Hearts and Heels

16 // in which jen is engaged

I groan as the sunlight shines brightly through the window, and finally rests on my face.

I've never had to deal with the sunshine before, because my curtains have always been drawn since I didn't want to be disturbed in the morning. Honestly, who does? Apparently, something's different today. I take my time with opening my eyes and getting used to the brightness as I attempt to sit up.

Nope, bad decision.

My hand flies up towards my forehead as if it would stop the throbbing in my head and I let out a hiss. "What . . . ?" I speak to myself. Why am I having such a bad headache? Like, someone's drilling into my brain. This only happens when—I gasp in realization. I was drunk last night, wasn't I?

"Why am I talking to myself?" I mumble.

I try to remember what exactly happened yesterday, but nothing comes up. If anything, it just makes my head hurt even more. After a few seconds of just laying down, trying to calm the pain in my head, I realize something.

I'm not in my room.

I recognize the room so I'm thankful to know that I'm not kidnapped after being drunk off of my ass last night. The four walls around me are covered with cream colored paint. The comforter that lays on top of me is very familiar. My eyes widen apprehensively. This is Joshua's comforter. His bed. His room.

Panicking, I inhale deeply and slowly turn to the side, silently hoping that he's not there. And if he is, then please be clothed.

Feeling relieved after seeing that Joshua's nowhere near me on the bed would be an understatement of the year.

"Oh hey, you're up!"

"Holy—oh my—oh my gosh—you shithead! Stop talking so loudly."

Joshua cracks a smile, and leans on the door. "Good morning to you too, princess. Were you trying not to swear . . . but then ended up doing it?"

I glower. "Yeah, well, it just happened. Couldn't stop it." He mutters something under his breath, but I can't hear it. "What did you say?"

"Huh? No, nothing." He shakes his head, and then looks down. I follow his gaze, and notice a cup in his hand. It looks odd. I've never really seen him taking it before. Is this his new morning beverage? "Oh right, I almost forgot!" He starts to walk towards me. "This is for you."

Did I hear him wrong? My eyebrows knit in confusion, and I say, "Sorry? Did you just say that's for me?"

"It may look weird, but I swear it's good for hangovers," he responds, his amusement written all over his face. "It's a recipe I learnt during college."

I raise an eyebrow suspiciously. "Are you sure you're not trying to poison me? Maybe you're planning to take over my house, and own everything. Maybe—"

"Maybe," he interrupts, "you should just trust me." When I make no move, he brings it further towards me. "Come on, you had a lot to drink last night. Won't you drink this one, too?"

There's something weird about his sentence. You had a lot to drink. I feel like I've heard it recently. It triggers the blurred images in my head. But still, nothing. "I did drink a lot, didn't I?"

"Yeah. Don't you remember anything?"

I shake my head.

"Not even a little bit?"

"Nope. Why . . ." I trail off, suddenly feeling scared of the answer. "Did I do something?" I gasp. "Did I break something? Oh God, Olivia's going to kill me—did I get out of control? Was I screaming? Crying? Laugh—"