𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

FIFTY| geometry test discoveries

THE next morning, Eden Bexley woke up to a pounding headache and John B.'s leg draped over her lap.

"Shit." Eden lightly groaned as she opened her eyes, gaze squinting as she tried to process everything. She could hear the scribbling of a pencil, soft breathing from one direction, soft snores from the other, the crinkling of cans being thrown away. 

She'd fallen asleep at the Chateau.

She has a hangover. 

She has a geometry test today. 

"Shit." Eden groans yet again, lying her head back down as she recalled the fact that she indeed had a test—a test in which she'd done little studying for and was currently not in the right head space for. The girl closes her eyes again and resists the urge to let out another whine of annoyance; Eden Bexley was not a morning person, to say the least. 

"Good morning to you too, Eden." 

The Bexley opens her eyes and lifts her body to see Pope sitting at the kitchen table, notebook splayed out in front of him as he scribbled down different equations, shapes, and definitions down—it wasn't unusual to see Pope being productive in the early morning hours, let alone studying.

"Pope, please tell me I'm dreaming about this geometry test." The Bexley stares at the Heyward, expression weary as she ran a hand through her hair—it was knotty and strands fell in the wrong direction from whatever position she'd been lying in, but that was the least of her problems right now.

"It's a reality. And it's happening in—" Pope looks up from his notebook and taps his phone screen, "—about an hour."

"Fuck my life." Eden huffs, lying her head back against JJ's shoulder, where she'd ultimately fallen asleep last night. She can hear the rhythmic sound of his breathing, feel his chest lightly rise and fall with each breath—unlike her, the Maybank boy is still asleep, rather dead to the world as he cradled a beer can in his grasp.

From the corner of the room—where she was picking up discarded beer cans and solo cups full of different alcohol and soda variations—Kiara sarcastically chimes in, "Believe me, Eden, when I say I gave him the exact same phrase."

"I told you guys to study." Pope shrugs innocently. 

"Like we've had all the time in the world to do that?" 

While wanting to stay in bed, Eden ultimately forces herself to sit up, eyes scanning for her phone—she has no clue where it ended up after ordering pizza. Met with no sight of the device, the Bexley decides she might as well get up and get ready; she only had an hour before she'd have to get up, and she looked like shit to say the least.

Keeping her on the couch was John B.'s bare leg, one draped over JJ's figure—right beside Eden's head—while the other found refuge in her lap. Eden's face crinkles in slight disgust, and she doesn't bother being gentle as she pushes him off of her. 

Looking down at the boy—John B. was lying opposite of JJ and Eden, head dangling off the edge of the couch. He had a solo cup wrapped around one of his hands while his other arm clutched a Cheez-It Snap'd bag—Eden can't even fathom how he'd fallen asleep.

Eden rolls her eyes at his state—leave it to John B. Routledge to find a way to sleep in any position—and sits up, allowing the morning sun against her skin. She stretches with the room she has, before getting up, making sure to give John B. a decent shove upon the shoulder as she did.

Running a hand over her face, Eden crosses into the kitchen, Pope outstretching his hand to reveal an Aspirin as he proceeded to indulge in his notebook, as if he already knew the headache she was feeling.