Broken

• Chapter 87 •

I wake up in an unfamiliar setting. I can't feel my arm, my eyes are heavy, and I'm uncomfortable. My eyes struggle to open at the blinding sun shining from the left. That's strange, the sun always comes in from my right side—

I jolt up in sheer panic, where the hell am I? I force my eyes open and scan my surroundings. I blink a few more times and glance down at the hard body engulfing me.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

I SLEPT WITH ASHTON.

Well, not really. Not that I would mind that, either. STOP, CLEM. WHAT THE HELL?

His head rests on my chest, his arm is sprawled across my stomach. Fucking hell, how did I fall asleep?

Oh. My. God.

MY PARENTS ARE GOING TO SHISH KEBAB MY TITS.

I try to get up as slowly as possible, only to be stopped by my buried arm. I narrow my eyes to slits. No wonder I can't feel it, Ashton is SLEEPING ON IT. I groan in frustration, heat creeps up my neck as I struggle to remove my arm from under him gently. I'm careful not to wake him up.

I don't want to face him right now. I sigh when it's finally free, and find that it is red and has patterns imprinted on it from Ashton's body. I roll my eyes. White people problems.

I stretch my arm, willing it to feel something. I crawl away from him, quickly sitting up at the edge of the bed. My legs dangle over the side, I glance back slowly, wincing as my bare feet make contact with the cold floor. He's sound asleep, and by the looks of it, he'll remain sound asleep until the afternoon.

I pick up my things and tip-toe to the other end of the room, taking in a shaky breath to prepare myself for my death: checking my phone.

It's probably not that bad. Relax, relax, relax—

48 missed calls and 53 new messages from mom and dad.

That's it, my life is over.

I swallow slowly and dial my dad's number, my heart hammers in my chest.

"CLEMENTINE! WHAT THE FUCK?"

My heart sinks into my stomach and I jump back in fear, yanking the phone away from my ear.

"Hi, dad..."

"DON'T HEY DAD ME! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? DID SOMEONE KIDNAP YOU? WHAT HAPPENED? WHERE ARE YOU?"

I sigh, "Uh no, no one kidnapped me... I kinda just... Fell asleep."

There's a pause.

"Y-you WHAT?"

I grimace, "I'll explain everything once I get home, okay? I'll be there soon."

"I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE YOUNG LADY."

I groan, "I know..."

I hang up the phone and let out a huge sigh, glancing towards Ashton. He's sleeping like a baby, it's kind of peaceful to watch. He's going to have a nasty hangover.

I sigh and roll my eyes, "Screw you... For making me actually care about you in the slightest," I mumble as I make my way to his kitchen.

I crack open his fridge and get out ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.

"Clementine!"

Vanessa rubs her eyes and runs towards me, hugging me tightly. My heart swells, "Hi Nessa, how are you?"

She smiles up at me, her eyes are lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I'm good now! What are you doing here?" she looks at the batter I'm scooping onto the pan.

"I'm just making pancakes for Ashton. You want some?"

Vanessa nods profusely and Zach stumbles into the room with bed-hair and extremely cute racer pajamas. He squints at me with a confused expression, "What are you doing here?"

I laugh, "Nice to see you too, Zach. Want some pancakes?"

His big eyes pop as he races towards a chair and nods enthusiastically. I grin and give them both a stack of pancakes before heading towards Ashton's room.

I walk up to his nightstand and set down some aspirin and coffee, along with two water bottles and a massive stack of pancakes of his own. I cover the items with a stainless steel food cover to prevent the food from getting cold. I've no idea how long he'll be out.

Should I leave him a note?

No way, that's overstepping the friend-line. I don't want him remembering anything from last night, especially anything to do with feelings. Maybe he won't even remember I dropped him off. It's not like he even meant what he said, right? Yeah, it must've just been hormones, emotional instability, and the alcohol talking.

I sit on the edge of his bed and examine him, my heart aches a little. A part of me wants him to remember. It wants him to remember that he cares about me, even if it's just a little bit. I want him to stop icing me out and I want to be in his life. I want to be his friend.

I've started caring about him, for some deranged reason. I don't want us to be strangers.

I shrug, c'est la vie.

This burning urge to reach out and touch him, caress his cheek one last time comes over me, but I stop myself. I pull my arm back and sigh in defeat. This shit's complicated. I'm not supposed to grow attached to anyone, anyway. I shouldn't care about him.

... It would be better if he didn't remember anything from last night. I decide against leaving him a note. I need to get home.