Written And Composed

10 / blurring lines

MELANNIE WOULDN’T HAVE woken up if not for Charlotte's arms wrapped around her waist in a death grip. Her nails dug into her skin and Melannie could tell that they left marks on her. She blinked away the sleep weighing on her eyelids and removed Char away from her. When she sat up, her head rang like there were monster drillers assaulting her head. Melannie clutched her head tight and held it between her knees.

The pressure numbed the pain a little. She looked up and found that she wasn't in her room. In fact, the room she was in wasn't a room she had been in before at all. The wallpapers were faded violet, white flowers patterned across it. There was a big framed poster of Robert Downey Jr, surrounded with a few marvel movie posters. Polaroids of music lyrics were also in the mix. The room was singing Char's name.

A groan cut through her thoughts but it wasn't from Char. Her eyes widened when she peeked down and found Dylan, Jackson and Jake sprawled on two mattresses that were put together. Dylan was shirtless, his hand clutching Jake's ankles like it was a pillow while Jackson was plastered to the wall, away from both of them. Her eyes went back to Jake and she wasn't able to trap the chuckle that left her lips when she saw him sleeping with his lips parted open. Cute.

She climbed out of bed and decided to borrow some clothes from Char to change into. She was still in her top and tight skirt and she stank of alcohol. In fact, the entire room was filled with the stench. To not wake anyone, she tip-toed. Melannie placed a foot just next to Dylan's head which was a mistake because he twisted his head, knocking her feet and making her body gravitate towards the right. She fell right next to Jake on the mattress, her knees knocking his hand.

The mattress cushioned her fall so her only prayer was for Jake to not wake up. Melannie opened one eye and she let out a curse when she found him staring at her.

"Hey," he said. Ah, the morning voice, fresh out of bed. I'm screwed, she thought.

"Hey," Melannie squeaked back, trying to sit up. But he pulled her back so she hit the mattress again.

"Stop running away while I'm making conversation."

"Oh. Okay."

Jake's eyes ran over her legs, her curled position making her skirt ride up higher. Melannie's hands pulled the hem lower, suddenly nervous.

"How are you feeling?"

"Me? Yes, I am good. Why?"

Jake raised his hands and brushed her hair out of her face. Melannie's breath hitched. "You don't remember what happened yesterday?"

"Yesterday? Did something —"

And then it hit her. Like a slap she did not see coming.

Melannie had gotten drunk. She remembered kissing someone, someone who looked awfully like Jake, and then she had got lost in the crowd. Then the hands. The dirty hands on her body, touching her thighs —

"Hey, hey, skittle. You're fine. You are safe," he said, taking her hand.

"No- I don't- I don't remember what happened next. Did he —"

"No, no. I found you. We got you out of there before that fucker tried to get you alone."

Melannie let out a breath that she didn't know that she had held in.

"I shouldn't have left you alone. It's my fault you got lost in the crowd. I am so sorry. I am so —"

"But where were you?"

"I went to get you some water to sober you up. I thought you'd take a longer time in the washroom. I fucked up, skittle."

She brought their entwined hand upwards and pursed her lips at his bloodied knuckles. "Did you hit him?"