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Opening her eyes slowly, Lola felt the warm rays of the sun on her face. Sitting up slightly, she stretched her arms and legs, before falling backwards into her sheets, enjoying the softness of her bed. After the night before, she was exhausted. It had been in the extremely early hours of the morning that she had returned to her apartment. Alex had driven her, but the drive she didn't remember; all the words they had exchanged had been meaningless nothings. He had attempted to talk about what had happened with the tabloids, but she had shot him down each time, desperate to think of anything else.
She had mentally resolved to deal with them tomorrow.
But, tomorrow was no longer a mystical day on the horizon. Tomorrow was today.
With a small groan, Lola rolled onto her side and pulled the pink shag blanket, which she was wrapped in, over her head. The tacky throw had been bought on an impulse by Elowen from Next as some BOGOF deal. (Lola wished the tabloids would bloody well bog off!) The garish blanket was of the same taste as the cheetah print coat Alex had forced her to wear on what had essentially been their first date - although she hadn't known it at the time. Reflecting back, Lola wished she had known. It had been easier then. If she had known it wouldn't last, she would have lived in that night forever.
Next to her, Lola felt a quiet buzz.
She ignored it.
Now, another and another.
Piss off, she attempted to mentally communicate to whoever was texting her.
Clearly this hadn't worked, as now her phone was worse than ever. Vibrating and shaking so much that Lola thought it might begin to explode like an atom bomb.
So much for her telepathic powers!
Reluctantly throwing back the covers, which she had forged into a make-shift cocoon, she picked it up and watched the screen illuminate automatically. The home screen of her phone was filled with hundreds of missed calls, unanswered texts and social media notifications: a list of people desperate for information, which wasn't ceasing to go down, as her phone continued to buzz. With such an overwhelming wave of attention, she didn't even know where to begin.
At least, she didn't, until a new text message in all capitals graced the top of screen, marked as being from her mother. Lola supposed that was somewhere to start. Opening the chat, she was confronted with dozens of furiously-worded texts her mum had written - no surprise there. She could win the lottery and be told that she was going to go on a year long holiday and she would still act like somebody had told her she was going to receive a lobotomy. If you searched for mardy witch in the dictionary, Lola was sure there would be no definition, just a picture of her mum - frowning as always, of course.
