Sunburn

EIGHT

            When I woke the next morning, the sense of dread hit before the headache.

Even before my eyes were open, I could tell that something was wrong. For starters, the sea was too loud. I could usually hear it from my room, but being ten minutes back from the seafront dulled the waves into comforting background noise. Here, through an open window somewhere, the sea sounded much closer than it should've.

Slowly, my eyes fluttered open. A stream of light filtered through an inch gap in the curtain, landing on my face, and I couldn't help but squint. Shielding my eyes, I sat up.

This was a living room I'd never been in before, but one I had a vague recollection of buried in the back of my mind. The second-hand tartan print sofa that had been scratching my cheek all night, the TV held up by a stack of thick textbooks in the absence of a stand, the mismatching chairs at a dining table in the corner. All the hallmarks of a first home furnished on a budget... and then it hit me.

This was Owen's apartment. I'd slept on his sofa. I'd got so out-of-my-mind drunk that this had seemed like a better option than going home. Even though, in any universe, it certainly wasn't.

Oh, God, what had I said? I racked my brains for leftover snippets of conversation, but they were too hazy to pick out words. The wine had done too much of a good job covering my tracks. Had Owen offered to let me stay here, or had I been a complete intrusion and begged my way in? As much as I didn't want to think about it, a slightly nauseating gut feeling pointed me in one direction.

And then something else came to me. An image, suddenly clear as day among the haziness of last night. Katie, stood there in her comfortable, everyday, we've-been-together-so-long-I-don't-need-to-impress-you-anymore pyjamas. With her arms folded, looking very much like I shouldn't have been there in the first place.

The thought made me want to die. Things had been going so well, and now they'd been ruined by a few too many glasses of wine. Katie seemed to like me before—and though admittedly I'd struggled to stomach their new life milestones while mine was at such a standstill, I'd kept that all inside. There hadn't been a reason for her to dislike me; we were just polite acquaintances brought together by Owen. Except now I'd transformed into something she definitely had a reason to dislike: the clingy ex-girlfriend, getting a little too close for comfort.

I wasn't trying to get back together with him. We were just friends—but my actions now didn't make it look that way.

One thing was for certain: I needed to get out of here. Glancing around, I noticed my bag and shoes abandoned on the floor beside the sofa, and didn't hesitate to snatch them up. I kind of needed to pee, but no urge from my bladder could be strong enough to keep me in this apartment a moment longer than necessary. I needed to get out, get home—and then, unfortunately, get to work.

I'd slipped my shoes back on and was making a beeline for the door when the noise stopped me in my tracks. I heard a handle rattling, and then the door on the opposite side of the room opened.

There stood Katie.

"Um... hi," I said, willing my voice to sound normal, though it still came out a lot squeakier than intended.

"Hey," she said coolly. She was still in her pyjamas, but had since tied a robe around her waist. First thing in the morning and she still managed to look put together—all while I was looking completely worse for wear. Just another difference between Katie and I to add to the list. "How are you feeling?"