Josie Guerrero is focused on one thing: getting accepted into the prestigious art studies program within the Art School at the University of Southern Washington. With thirteen weeks to create her sophomore portfolio, she knows she can't afford any d...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
I'm pretty sure I was still a little drunk when I woke up this morning.
I laid there, motionless and on the verge of puking, while I buried myself under the duvet and desperately tried to piece together what happened last night. I don't remember much, aside from the fact that I accidentally told Olivia that the only man she's ever loved has been having hot, crazy sex with other girls. So, I guess the hangover that was pounding in my head when I woke up was kind of karma.
I felt like the worst friend in the world as she cried into my shoulder, but when she pulled away, puffy-faced and red-eyed, I could see the determination solidifying in her emerald eyes as she sat back and pulled herself together. She swallowed hard, stood up, uncapped the tequila bottle on Halle's nightstand, and poured her first shot. I could tell she just wanted to forget everything — the memories on the swings, the night in the hotel room, and now, thanks to me, the thought of him with someone else. So when she poured herself the shot, I poured myself one, too, because it was my fault she was even upset in the first place. I think Halle took them with us just to show her support, but in retrospect, one of us should have stayed somewhat sober because, after the third tequila shot, we were all goners.
"I can't believe we're all alive," Halle croaked as she sat up beside me. "I don't even remember how we got to bed. I actually can't remember anything after eating those chicken nuggets."
"Nuggets?" I shook my head, and my entire world started to spin at the sudden movement. "We had pizza, Hal."
"We had pizza pre-tequila. You made me heat you up nuggets. Don't you remember sitting on the kitchen floor eating them?"
I — no. No, I didn't. Not at all.
I closed my eyes and sank back into the mattress, trying as hard as I could to shake the hangover fog that was clouding my brain, and then, like a dam breaking under pressure, it flooded back to me all at once — Liv blackout drunk giving us blow job tips, Halle nearly falling off her bed while giving an entire speech on how Harry Potter is an allegory for World War II, and then there was me, sneaking downstairs and sitting on the kitchen floor with a bowl full of chicken nuggets clutched to my chest as I drunk texted Micah Costa.
"Oh, no, no, no, no."
I could distantly hear Halle asking me what the hell I was freaking out about, but I couldn't seem to focus on anything other than what I could have possibly texted him while blackout drunk. It took me three tries to get my passcode right since my fingers were moving so quickly, but when the unlocking sound finally echoed through the room, my heart dropped straight into my stomach as I stared down at the two unread text notifications from him.
Mierda. Mierda. Mierda. Shit. Shit. Shit.
It took me a few times reading through the drunk texts to finally register the gravity of the situation, and when it finally hit me, my body burned so hot I actually started to sweat.
