❝news flash, thompson. you're not my type.❞ ____________________
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I WAS ONLY halfway awake when I felt something brushing against my cheek.
"Shh, I think she's awake." a voice whispered. I was too tired to identify who it was.
"Wait, just one more," another voice said softly, and I felt the brushing on my cheek stop and start again.
"I feel kinda bad for doing this."
"Me too, but just think of the look on her face when she wakes up!"
I groaned, finally regaining my senses. I rubbed my eyes, struggling to open them. I saw Debbie and Lola hovering over me, eyes widened, with the guiltiest looks on their faces.
"It was Debbie, I swear!" Lola blurted out, at the same time that Debbie accused Lola.
I slowly sat up from where I was sleeping on the floor, my eyes half-closed. I leaned my head against the frame of Debbie's bed, sighing heavily.
"What the fuck did you guys do?" I croaked, my voice being at least two octaves lower than usual.
Debbie and Lola exchanged looks while Lola reluctantly handed me her phone, and I sent a confused expression her way as I bit my lip. As I brought the phone up to my eyes, I was able to see drawings all over my face. And they weren't hearts, or stars. There was a huge dick drawn in black Sharpie on my left cheek.
"I fucking hate you guys," I said jokingly, as Lola and Debbie laughed along too.
"Okay, but . . . where were you last night, Nelly?" Debbie asked, as soon as the laughing died down.
"What do you mean?" I questioned, forcing a poker face to hide the butterflies from what happened last night.
"C'mon, don't play dumb. Wherever you were, you forgot to take off your shoes." Debbie mentioned.
I cursed myself as I looked down at my feet. I was, in fact, still wearing my Vans. Damnit.
I felt guilty for not telling them the truth, but I didn't want to tell them about the incident with Carl. There was no point in doing so—no one would care, and Carl wasn't the least bit himself. It would just make things more awkward.
"I just went for a walk. Had to clear my mind," I lied, avoiding eye contact with Debbie.
She could easily tell I was lying by the way I twiddled my thumbs when I was guilty about something, and the fact that I was looking outside the window while talking to her.
