𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 [ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

mr. smooth

"Good morning!" You chimed as Sasha let out a painful groan, her hands grabbing her head, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Do you have to be so loud?" She hissed, her voice a low whisper, probably the quietest you've ever heard her talk.

"Sorry," you apologized and handed her a water bottle, watching her gulp it down immediately. Sasha's hair was a mess and the makeup she had on last night was smeared everywhere. It took everything you had inside of you not to laugh.

"Is Connie up?" She gasped after finishing the whole bottle of water. You smirked and pointed to the dead weight just beneath the two of you, snoring away.

"I conclude that he is not," you smiled and stepped over the lanky man, heading to your closet to grab some clothes for the day.

"I can't believe I have to do this all again tonight," Sasha groaned and slumped back down into her bed, pulling the covers over her head.

"I think you can sober up in time," your hands grabbed the red sweater off of its hanger and you swiped a pair of jeans from the built in shelves in the closet, throwing them onto your bed to change into.

"Oh, I know I can, I just hate feeling like this after," you laughed at Sasha's complaining before handing her some more water and some saltines.

"Well, maybe go easy tonight," you joked and headed off to the bathroom to shower, hoping that Connie would be long gone by the time you'd get back. The last thing you needed right now was another awkward encounter with that man.

Grabbing your things, you made your way to the communal bathroom, your flip flops echoing down the narrow hallway. Your hand gripped the cold handle, swinging the heavy door open and turning to your left towards the showers. You always picked the last one on the right, it had the best water pressure.

Flicking the water on, you had it positioned right down the middle, a perfect balance between hot and cold. You welcomed the water onto your dry skin, the comfort of it like a warm hug enveloping you. As you showered, the thoughts came racing to your mind.

I hate how pretty you are Connie's drunken words still clung to you from last night and continued to bang around in your head. Words always stayed with you, they mattered. And Connie was drunk, so how much of him had really meant that? And the café, you couldn't forget about the café. He hated you. He literally said he hated you were pretty.

"Stop thinking about him!" You scolded yourself, frustrated that you even cared.

"Tell me about it," another girl giggled from the showers and you scrunched your face up in embarrassment. You didn't know you'd been that loud from being so stuck in your thoughts.

"So what'd he do?"

This time, the voice was right outside your shower stall and you jumped a little, not expecting them to be so close.

"N-Nothing" you stuttered and hoped the girl would go away.

"C'mon, what'd he do?" She pushed, her tone insinuating that she was more interested in the drama than you. Trying to stay as private as possible you replied with, "He called me pretty."

"He called you pretty?" She sounded discouraged that that was the big reveal.

"He was drunk."

"Oh...so you don't know if he meant it or not," the girl inquired and you cleared your throat, hoping she'd just leave you alone.

"Look, when people are drunk, they almost always mean what they say. If he had to be drunk to say that to you, then he must be interested."

"But he hates me."