coffee stains || dreamnotfound

twenty - dream

i wince, splashing cold water onto my face before rummaging through the bathroom cabinet for some advil to cure my throbbing headache. i definitely regret drinking whatever it was i drunk last night. i swallow the small pill, and peek at myself in the mirror. my blonde hair is a mess on the top of my head, and bags are forming under my eyes. i shake my head at my scruffy appearance, and try to pat my hair down to tame it but when it doesn't work, i sigh. i stroll back into my bedroom just as my phone vibrates with a message.

i flop back down onto my bed, and scroll through some texts i missed yesterday and notice george's message. 'tell me when you're sober.' is all it read, but i instantly recognise the meaning behind his words.

i remember last night's call, and admitting my fondness for george which i still don't understand. i squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment, draping my hand over my face. what was i thinking?

i feel nerves bubble in the back of my throat, but i ignore them as i force my shaky hands to hit the call button. he takes a moment to pick up, but when he does, the pit in my stomach grows. with a gulp, i wait for him to speak.

"do you have something to tell me?" he asks, and i nervously chuckle.

"yeah, uh, i wanted to apologise. i shouldn't have said any of that weird stuff- i was a little drunk."

silence meets my ears in response, and i go to say his name in question when he finally speaks up again. "oh." another painful pause in our conversation, "it's fine. is that all you had to say?"

"uh, actually, i want to talk to you about something." i say, clearing my throat, "i think, um." i pause in awkwardness, not knowing where to start.

"just say it." george orders, annoyance lacing his voice.

my brows crease into a frown, "wait, are you mad at me for something?"

"no, i'm just busy, so if you could hurry up and get to the point, it would be appreciated."

i sit stunned, listening to the sudden agitation in his voice. is he really busy? propping myself up on my elbows, i push myself off the bed, giving into the urge of my legs to start moving to walk off the nervous energy george is providing to me. his bluntness makes me anxious, and staying still seems to makes it worse.

"i'm hanging up." he announces at my silence, and something about his tone rubs me in the wrong way. my shock at his initial anger dies down and i find myself getting worked up, too. i feel something tic in my head, and a scowl replaces my frown.

i clench my jaw, "you know what?" i ask, rhetorically through gritted teeth, "i was going to say this nicely, but since you're having some trouble with your attitude, i'll just say it."

"i'm all ears."

i despise the sarcasm which laces his voice, "i was going to ask for space. you're too- agh." i say, exasperatedly.

he snorts, "yeah, okay."

"leave me alone, george." i pause, sighing deeply, "you're in my head too much." i pull the phone from my ear and hang up immediately. i can't tell if i'm hurt or irritated by that phone call, and it annoys me how rude he was being. i walk over to my closed door, leaning forward to rest my head on it. i take a few steady breaths, but it doesn't work to relax me.

i spin to face the wall beside me, and with a grunt, my fist connects with the surface. pain floods through my hand, and i feel adrenaline in my veins. i don't hesitate to throw another punch at the wall, creating a neat hole.

my arms drop to my side, and the feeling of warm blood tickles as it runs down my slender fingers. i look down, noticing a few spots of the red liquid on my floor and i curse at myself. i make my way back into the bathroom, and shove my hand under the icy water of the tap which numbs my hand almost immediately. rolling my eyes, i grab a bandage from the cabinet with my free hand and wipe my other hand down my shirt to dry it, before aggressively wrapping my hand up tightly.

i run my good hand through my hair in frustration as i make my way back into my room. flopping down into the comfort of my bed, i grab my phone once again and scroll through the contacts. when i find the name i'm looking for, my thumb hovers for a moment over the 'call' button. i glare at my ceiling as if to ask, 'should i?' but i only get the sense that i'm being mocked in return.

exhaling, i hit call, listening to the dial tone patiently. they pick up, and one sentence falls from lips, "britt? can you come over?"

i wonder if i'll regret this.

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word count: 864
*in editing*
please vote!

LOL
he's trying to convince himself he's straight
:o