Stardust

Stars and Stories

Stardust: Stars and Stories

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        The sunlight glided in passed the lace curtains, radiating over every inch of the cluttered bedroom like each ray was a tiny dancer soaring across a vast stage. The beams reached across Skylar's face. The tweets of the birds outside basked in the morning's glow, but Skylar shared none of it.

His throat rumbled acidically. His eyes stung. His stomach felt like the fiery pits of hell. His back ached and his head pounded. Everything was too loud; even the sound of his own breathing. With hangovers like that, he preferred to sleep for at least forty-eight consecutive hours before he even fathomed doing something with himself that required the slightest ounce of movement or thought. It was uncomfortable to breathe, let alone process that it was seven o'clock in the morning.

"Skylar," a female sang nearby.

Her voice swam around Skylar's ears. It sounded like she was miles away and beneath the ocean. Or possibly he was the one that was miles away and drowning beneath the pints of liquor that he consumed the night prior.

He groaned, then opened his eyes for a brief moment only to be blinded by the sunlight penetrating the curtains. Clasping his eyelids closed, he burrowed deeper into the soft sheets, never wanting to leave the mattress.

"C'mon, Sky," she called, "today is the first day of our sophomore year."

"Which gives me all the more reason not to wake up," he grunted, his voice muffled. The feathery pillows soothed the nuisance of a throb in his head and helped to pacify the lurch of his stomach.

"Skylar," she exclaimed.

"Brennyn," he snarled, "you're being annoying."

Before he could taunt her or throw his chest out in triumph at her abrupt quiet and nuzzle himself even deeper into the bed, an elbow crashed into his spine as well as the rest of a body.

His eyes jolted open and he hissed in agony.

"Get up," Brennyn shouted, straddling him beneath her and punching at his back. Her knees digging into his sides was the most uncomfortable.

She sneered at her seemingly unconquerable hold on him, until he suddenly flipped over, tossing her off of his back. She sailed over the edge of the bed. A yelp shot passed her lips as her back collided into the hardwood. Her hair flew every which-way and some of the brunette strands stuck to her lips. Writhing on the floor, she spat out her own hair.

A gleaming pair of copper irises peeked over the edge of the bed at her embarrassing disposition.

"Your punches feel like mosquito bites," Skylar chuckled. "You have mosquito fists."

She brought her lips into a hard line. "Great, now I have to brush my hair all over again."