The New Girl's Guide to Fitting In

6

There was a knocking at my door, harmonizing with the knocking in my head. My tongue the texture of sandpaper as I reluctantly lifted my exhausted body out of the comfort of my bed to answer whomever it was that was calling for my attention. Just the sound of their knuckles on wood made my brain scream in a way that made me want to dart to the bathroom to empty the contents of my stomach. Feet touched the cool, hardwood floors, while my equilibrium struggled to keep me upright.

Never again would I drink whatever it was in those godforsaken cups.

My stomach rolled in anger when I arrived at the dorm room entrance.

Another knock. Unnecessary.

"Sylvia! Open the damn door." Lorelai's frustrated voice found my ears and assaulted them, I bit down my teeth to fight the urge to vomit. 

Before she could knock or call, again, my fingers grasped the handle. Pulling it open, there she stood, dressed like a model. Her long figure was encased in jeans and a crisp white shirt, while a pair of simple white boots sat on her feet and not a hint of pain on her face. Either she was an impressive actor or she knew how to handle a hangover. Whichever one was true, I jealous, regardless.

I found myself wanting to smack her.

Her smile faltered at the sight of me, drinking my appearance in. "That vodka did a number on you, didn't it?" She tsked, pushing past me to take a seat on the chaise. Chocolate curls bouncing, her dark eyes met mine with a hint of remorse.

Clearing my throat, the dryness of my mouth making it all the more difficult, I made my way towards the kitchenette. Sliding my feet in exhaustion up to the fridge, I removed a cold bottle of water to accompany the Tylenol that I planned on grabbing next.

"Would you like some breakfast?" My voice sounded so incredibly unfamiliar to my ears; pained and hoarse. However, I couldn't find it in myself to care enough to apologize. Instead, I pulled my leftover blueberry muffins out of the fridge and placed them in the toaster oven to heat. The smell of them filled the area, causing Lorelai to finally respond.

"Yes. Oh man, those smell delectable. Where did you get them?" Laughter bubbled to the top of my throat at the sight of my newfound friend on the verge of drooling in my living room. The hangover seeming less dire in that moment.

"I baked them." Reaching for my water, I gingerly took sips. The icy liquid causing me to sigh in relief. Very much needed. I found my temple pounding and my stomach rolling at the sudden hydration and, before you could say 'uh oh', I was stumbling towards my bathroom.

My sore fingers gripped the bowl as I heaved up what little water was in my body. If drinking always caused this sort of pain and agony, then I most certainly did not need it ever again. A small rap across the door alerted me to her presence. Looking up at her, I found her leaning against the doorframe. Her eyes held worry and guilt as she digested the image in front of her.

"Sylvie, I'm so sorry. I should have never dragged you to that party." Her voice seemed genuinely remorseful as her fingers twirled a lock.

I hadn't thought much of the party, except that I despised liquor and I may have left my cardigan. Other than that, I couldn't honestly make out the events of the night. I remembered meeting Fenton and drinking with him and his friends but the rest of the night was a complete blur.

"How did I get home?" 

Lorelai's eyes softened, her teeth chewed at her bottom lip. "Russo."

An unfamiliar name that only deepened my confusion. 

"Who?" My stomach turned, once more, but I was determined to continue our conversation.

"Luca Russo." She said with nervous hesitation.