53

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~53~

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~53~

It was a quick sickness. I woke up, felt my stomach clench, then ran to the restroom and hurled my guts up (twice) in the toilet. When I finished, I leaned against the wall behind me and shut my eyes, taking deep breaths to channel my racing heart. I felt eyes staring at me, but didn't care to open mine even when I knew someone had taken a seat beside me. I remembered the dream, as clear as though I really experienced it. And I wasn't sure if it was that, or the alcohol last night, but it only took a few minutes before the sick feeling subsided.

When I finally opened my eyes I lazily let my head tilt to look at Colby, who I knew had been looking at me the entire time. Our locked eyes were sharing an unspoken conversation. It was going one way though.

"Do you want to talk?"

The tired look in my eyes gave its own reply, and he nodded in understanding. It's not that I didn't want to discuss this with him, it's just I don't even know how to explain it myself. I didn't want this to be a big deal, one that requires a long and dramatic talk about my past. I feel like after last, after Colby officially asked me to be his girlfriend, I don't want to mask that over with this. This was our last day in Miami, all our friends were here with no stress about La, I couldn't be selfish and let something my mind created subconsciously ruin this.

So I put on a brave face, I threw the images of blood and the sound of yelling in the small box in my head labeled 'ignore' and I sniffled my dry nose. I took a few deep breaths then stood up, looking down at Colby and motioning for him to get up as well as I was fine. He did without question, then gave me a tight and unexpected hug.

I let him, embracing the hug and locking my hands behind his back. The beat of his heartbeat was so smooth, the sound of his voice sweet when he said, "You know you can talk to me, right?"

I knew that, it's one of the only things I'm certain of, "Let's save it for La... yeah?"

He leaned back without breaking the hug and smiled down at me, planting a kiss between my eyes, "Yeah."

"Did you not kiss my lips because I threw up?" I accuse with narrowed eyes.

He laughed softly with guilty eyes and pulled me back to the room (after I brushed my teeth), where we may have messed around for a bit to let off some steam. Even with hungover headaches the two of us couldn't resist.

-

"Fucking psycho-"

"It is not fucking psycho! Vanilla is the 2nd most liked flavor in the U.S!"

"Is chocolate first?" Devyn butted in.

"Yes, no idea why though."

"Doesn't matter! You're still insane! At least get toppings?!"

The one arguing with me? Yeah, Jake. He seems to have an opinion on just about everything I do and right now, it's about ice cream. Our flight back home leaves tonight and it was around 7 in the afternoon, and since we all had a long day of shopping and arguing over tiny things, we all felt we needed ice cream to finish off the night. It was a great idea until Jake, the motherfucker, decided to challenge my knowledge and choice of Vanilla ice cream.

𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙚/ c.bWhere stories live. Discover now