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Chapter 1, Part 2

Clover and I must have fallen asleep not long after I made my bed. It made sense; we had been up early in the morning the previous day. Still, it was pretty granny-ish to fall asleep before the sun even went down.

I woke up the next morning to a quiet knock on my door. Well, I didn't hear it, but Clover nudged me until I reached consciousness. I opened the door to Matt in his boxers with some serious dark circles, his hair a matted mess on his head. "Good morning," he said groggily.

    "You too," I replied, looking around his shoulder to the stairs, where there was Brad, sound asleep.

    Matt cringed, covering his ears. "You don't have to yell, yaknow." He shook his-- clearly hungover --head.

    "I'm not cleaning up after you, if that's what you were going to ask," I crossed my arms, imagining the damage that was probably downstairs. There were probably a million red solo cups and bottle caps scattered about. On a normal day, none of this would have mattered, but mom and dad were coming home from a two week trip tomorrow, and of course, last night would be the night Matt would pick to throw a rager.

    "I'm not asking you to," Matt said, getting down on his knees. "I'm begging you to."

    I rolled my eyes. Was he serious (read: he was totally serious)? "No, Matt." I said before slamming the door in his face. I had flashbacks to doing the same to Brad the night before, who probably didn't remember much of it, if at all, today. Poor guy probably woke up with a broken nose and would never know where it came from.

    Matt sighed from the other side of the door, and I could hear him sliding down the wall. I could practically see him with his knees against his chest, rubbing his forehead as he tried to plan out how he was going to fix the house before my parents returned home tomorrow.

    I, on the other hand, was completely worry-free. I happily changed into simple shorts and a t-shirt and brushed my teeth, putting my hair up into a loose pony tail and throwing a baseball cap on top of it to hide the mess. Clover was chipper as well, wagging her tail and following me around my room as I made my bed.

    When I came out of my room to go downstairs, Matt had left the hallway outside of my room and I could see him in his through the open door, making his bed. He had thrown on a pair of gym shorts, but was still shirtless. Often I was surprised if he ever even had a shirt on.

    Going down the stairs was an adventure, as I had to step over a snoozing (read: "blacked out") Brad. My foot came down on one of his fingers but his eyes didn't even flutter. I continued my careful descent, but Clover was not as mindful. She stepped all over Brad, but he still didn't stir. Matt was going to have to put Brad in a soundproofed room for days for him to get over the headache he was going to have when he woke up, if he ever did. Upon this thought, I stopped for a minute to see if Brad was breathing. It took a moment, but I saw his chest rise and fall. Good, I thought to myself, glancing at his clock, which was still ticking as well.

    I first headed to the mud room, throwing some food in Clover's dog bowl before moving to the kitchen, where I put some cereal in a plastic bag for myself and grabbed a bottle of orange juice to take on a walk. Throw me in a solid-colored track suit and I'd be a middle aged mom, I thought to myself as I clipped my fanny pack around my waist. What? Style over comfort. Clover was waiting in the laundry room, well trained to our morning routine. I hooked her leash around her collar, and just like that, we were off.

    Sunrise was just approaching as Clover and I began our journey, orange, red and golden rays beginning to peek through the trees. The air was crisp at this time in the morning, which I prefered much more over the muggy summer heat that came around noontime. Clover appreciated the morning air too, her golden coat shining in the sun and her tail wagging.