9. The Morning After

1.5K 93 56
                                    

The sun blinded, and beneath the covers of my duvet, the sickly sweat of Janelle's calf stuck to mine

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

The sun blinded, and beneath the covers of my duvet, the sickly sweat of Janelle's calf stuck to mine. "What time is it?" I asked, hating how my windows faced the east.

Janelle's eyes flung open at the sound of the loud braaap, taking off outside my windows. "God, what's the sound?"

"Baker," I answered, grating my teeth as I checked the time on my phone. Only he would rise before 9 am on a Sunday to train.

Head throbbing, I peeled my leg from Janelle's and turned onto my back to address her. "Why are you in here?"

Janelle scrubbed the side of her face from the flat of her back, dark hair sprawled across the white pillow. "Well, I almost made it to Nate's room... Or was it Luke?"

Gross.

"I don't know. I ended up here after Baker tossed you on the bed."

My brows drew together. "Baker?"

Janelle explained the level of intoxication we all fell under and how Nate called Baker for a ride.

"You fought with him the entire way," she went on, keeping her eyes closed. "We had to shove you in the back on the other side of the truck."

I was far too hungover to deal with any of this, but Janelle continued anyway, "He kept saying, 'You're the one who left Hadley'." Mocking his deep tone.

I shouldn't have asked, but I did. "What was I saying?"

"I have no idea. I was in the middle of Nate and Luke. No, it wasn't like that—" she interjected quickly. "They were arguing about some race. It's all on camera."

I froze. "What?"

Janelle sat up with no small amount of effort, squinting her green eyes against the blinding light. "Baker brought Johnny, and he filmed the entire thing from the front seat."

I leapt from bed, my head pounding like a thousand jackhammers and rushed downstairs.

I nearly kicked the door open when I entered the garage, regretting the poor decision to shout my little brother's name. "Johnny!"

My voice reverberated off the walls and punched me square in the face.

I'd never been so hungover in all my life. I was certain my mascara had smudged beneath my eyes, and my hair was in some sort of crooked rat's nest on the top of my head, but I didn't care. The last thing I needed was a video going viral.

I never heard anyone scurry so fast, and I might have followed the noise if my fucking head didn't hurt so bad. "Johnny!"

The soles of my feet froze as I descended the stairs. It didn't help that the damn door was left open, and winter's cold coated every surface.

Snowcrossed: Currently Under ConstructionWhere stories live. Discover now