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EIGHT
intoxication
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I mentally cursed myself for keeping the blinds drawn when the sunshine almost gives me a headache the next morning. I groan in frustration, throwing over the blanket to hide my face. Contrary to the other parts of the world, Australia has crisp winters from June to August and the sun, though comforting to most people, isn't very much preferred by someone like me. A wet feeling against my cheeks makes me sit up. I had been drooling and there was almost a pool now on my pillow. I giggle to myself and walk up to the window taking in the panoramic view outside. It was still quite early on a Sunday and the air felt cold but soft against my skin.
However, my tranquil moment was short lived as there was a rapping on my door. I realized with frustration it must be Ian, my guest. Unlatching the door, I see him standing with an annoyed expression in his plain black t-shirt, his arms across his chest. It was right then that I noticed he had a few scattered tattoos on his hands too. I speculated how much it would have hurt to get the ink in so many parts of his body.
"Well?" His voice makes me snap back to reality. Why did I get lost every time he stood in front of me?!
"I should be asking you that. What d'ya want?" I furrow my eyebrows.
"A clean shower for the time being. The guest room that you have given me doesn't have a proper bathroom" He states, running fingers through his messed up hair.
"How can you say that? And what are you implying by properbathroom?" I was getting jittery again.
"You should come and see yourself" He sighs, gesturing me to come along. I contemplated for a moment, doubting whether it was a prank of some sort but anyhow, I decide to go.
I hadn't entered the guest room in a long while. The cream painted walls and expensive furniture looked a little antique for the ones we usually use at the other rooms. Ian pushes open the bathroom door and I stare in awe at the mirrored walls and shelves full of body washes and shampoo bottles. I never knew my father had arranged so much even for the guests.
"What the fuck is wrong here?" I glare at Ian, who was leaning against the doorframe.
"This" He says before turning on the shower and a surge of water immediately sloshes to the entire floor. I jump away in response, trying my best to save myself from getting drenched.
Ian turns off the tap and looks back at me, a question mark on his face. I was burning in humiliation. This wasn't supposed to happen at the Davenport Residence, under any circumstances.
"You did this deliberately" I say as I give him a skeptical stare.
"Oh man, are you gone nuts? Or are you still half-asleep? Can't you see there's probably some crack in the waterline?" He rolls his eyes and I scowl.
