Hope Begins to Fade

Shhh...quiet

Even groaning hurt my head. I moaned and then winced at the moan and then moaned at the way my wincing made my already churning stomach feel. It was a vicious circle and so it continued until I lay still and barely breathing in the hope that if I just stopped everything I might start to feel better. It didn't. Even breathing felt too loud.

I tried whimpering. I still felt like the scrapings from the foot well of a taxi after a busy Saturday night but it was something of a relief to be able to express my pain. I felt movement beside me and my brain struggled to piece together the events of the previous evening. I forced my eyes open anticipating the pain to come because I was almost certain that I'd not remembered to close the shutters on the window before I'd gone out. Peeling back my eyelids millimetre by millimetre I realised that the room was early morning dim and the shutters were closed. I exhaled the breath I'd been holding with relief.

A glass appeared in front of my face. "Here drink this," Matt's voice spoke softly. I struggled up onto one elbow and took a sip before swallowing down the pills he handed me. I took another sip of Sprite before collapsing on to my back and closing my eyes.

"You're feeling pretty shit huh?" Matt asked. I responded with a little high pitched hum of agreement, I wasn't capable of much more. It wasn't the first or even the second time I'd woken up beside Matt. He'd crashed in my bed after his night out the week before when he'd been incapable of making it to his own bed and after our beach day we'd both fallen asleep on the sofa watching a movie and I'd woken up with a crick in my neck and Matt's foot jabbing me in the ribs. This was the first time I'd woken up beside him when – oh god memories of the night before came flooding back – I'd hurled on his shoes in the driveway and he'd held my hair back as I'd emptied into the toilet the contents of my stomach that hadn't made it onto his shoes.

I rolled over very slowly and painfully to face him realising as I did so that for once I wasn't getting tangled in my hair. I raised a shaking hand to my head and realised it had been loosely plaited into a braid. Did Matt do that? Matt was on his side watching me with sleepy eyes. "I am sooo sorry." My voice was no more than a whisper.

He gave me a sympathetic smile. "There's nothing to be sorry for Sunshine. You did good work last night."

"I don't think so." Wow, it almost hurt to speak.

"Sure you did! Do I look like a man filed with regret over bad decisions? No way. Check the score card. Matthew Sanders one, bad decisions zero." Matt reached over and gave me a gentle pat on the cheek.

"Well from where I am it's bad decisions five hundred and eighty-two and Caitlin Walker minus seventy-five," I moaned and cringed as the words echoed around my brain.

"How about we make a pact, you stop me from making bad decisions and I stop you from making bad decisions. How does that sound?" Matt asked.

"It sounds loud," I complained.

"Okay then. How about we make a mutual resolution to stop each other making bad decisions, how does that sound?" He whispered. Even though my pain was real I couldn't stop my mouth curling into a smile. Why the hell did the guy have to be so adorable? Why the dimples? Why?

"Sounds like a plan," I whispered back then spoke up a fraction louder, "I don't really make many bad decisions though."

"Then my job will be easy. Just so you know though, you're still Cock Blocker in Chief." Matt matched my volume and if it was at all possible his smile widened.

I settled more comfortable onto my side and noticed the braid that snaked under my neck and across the pillow. I picked up the end and twitched it between my fingers for a moment before I asked, "Did you braid my hair." I could feel the blush rise up my cheeks.