Secrets Not Lies

Chapter Fourteen - Headaches

My head was pounding the next morning when my dreams blurred away and I was groggily pulled from my sleep. Every inch of my brain was aching and pulsing with agony. My stomach swirled with nausea and for the first few moments of being awake, I was convinced I was going to throw up.

Once I let my insides settle slightly, I cautiously opened my eyes. Light flooded my vision, making me squint with a groan as my eyebrows furrowed in pain.

I was slightly disoriented, not remembering much from the day before. What I could recall was the guilt as I watched Brooklyn's heartbroken expression. I was still in shock that I'd ended things with her but knew it was for the better. I didn't have romantic feelings for her, nor did I find her attractive. It was better to let her go rather than fake how I felt.

My mind wandered as I laid in bed, adjusting to the sunlight streaming into my bedroom. The last thing I could remember was chugging back three or four beers faster than I should've. I couldn't have helped it though, I was feeling guilty about Brooklyn and confused about my sexuality. I'd never questioned the fact I was straight before and maybe it was because I hadn't felt the pressure to. 

Having Phil around changed everything.

I continued to groan lowly in pain as my whole body—not just my head—was hurting. I'd always hated hangovers and that was why I typically refrained from drinking. But, I'd wanted to drown out my thoughts and now I had to deal with the consequences.

There was a shuffling outside my door followed by a quiet knock.

"Good morning," Phil greeted after easing the door open.

I grunted in response as he stepped into my bedroom.

"I heard your groaning from my room so I thought I'd bring you some medicine," he told me in a soft voice, clearly aware of my pounding head.

My eyes closed, giving up fighting the blinding light. "Thanks," I mumbled, not sure if Phil had been able to hear.

His footsteps approached my bed and I heard a clinking as he set a glass down on my bedside table. "Give me your hand."

I slowly lifted an arm out from under my covers, my body aching as I did. I felt Phil place a pill in the palm of my hand and I muttered another incoherent thanking.

"Do you need anything else?" he inquired gently.

The room was silent as I breathed deeply. "Quiet."

"Right," he said quickly, "sorry."

I waited to slowly open my eyes again until Phil had left, closing the door quietly behind himself. I basked in the silence, slightly missing his presence in the room.

Cringing, I thought back to the night before, imagining all the embarrassing things I could've done. Like most people, I was incredibly stupid when drunk. Although I was having troubles coming to terms with my developing emotions towards certain things sober, I'm sure my drunk-self hadn't had an issue with it. I suddenly felt compelled to ask Phil if I'd done anything, nervous about his answer.

My eyes swiveled to the pill in my hand, and I propped myself up, adjusting my pillow so it was at my back. As soon as I shifted positions, the room began to spin and I felt my insides twist with nausea again. I stayed upright though as I had to take the medicine.

I reached for the glass of water Phil had brought me, chugging it back with the pill. I knew it was a good idea to drink lots of water as I was dehydrated, so I slowly reached for my phone. If Phil was willing to bring me medicine without me asking, I was sure he wouldn't mind getting me more to drink.