Sober

Ch. 8

(POV: Kyler)

Saturday night, I lie in my bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. My head hurts, my stomach hurts—I'm tired as hell, but I can't clear my mind enough to go to bed.

Deja's passed out beside me, and I look at her, sighing as I comb my fingers through my hair.

What the fuck did I do?

Not that I think Nick would ever date me, but I think I lost my chance of ever attempting to approach him normally.

Though, I didn't think he'd go along with it. Knowing Nick, I expected him to punch me in the face and throw me out the stall...but he gave in. He gave in a lot. So much that it kinda scared me, however, it was too hot for me to back away.

I roll over onto my side, now glancing at my phone.

Nathan had texted me earlier, saying they got Nick safely back to his dorm, but they both asked me what had happened. Of course, I didn't wanna tell them what went down, but when it came to the argument, I didn't even have an answer.

It's three in the morning, and I'm still lying here.

Against all better judgment, I grab my phone off the night table and text Nick.

'Hey, are you up?'

I stare at the screen, and after a few minutes, he marks it as read. But to my surprise, he responds.

'Yeah. Why?'

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah.'

I grip my phone.

'I can't sleep. You wanna talk about earlier?'

'No. Sorry.'

I exhale.

'It's fine.'

I turn off my phone and sit it back down, somehow feeling worse than before. I grab my pillow, shoving my face into it as I start crying softly.

Before I knew it, morning arrived. When Deja got up around ten, I acted like I was still asleep, while in truth, I didn't sleep for even a second.

My head hurt more than the night before, yet I slugged out of bed and dragged myself to the kitchen where Deja was making breakfast. Though when I walked out, she did a double take.

"God, you look terrible! Are you hungover?"

I scratch my head and shrug.

"Not to mention, you always fix your hair before leaving the bedroom."

I shrug again and walk over to her, stealing some bacon from one of the plates. She continues to look at me, her face full of concern.

She touches my shoulder. "Kyler..."

I step away from her, and she puts her hand down. "I'm just a little tired. It's fine."

After our short interaction, I return to my room to try and sleep again without any luck. I text Nick, and though doesn't respond, I keep trying. At first, he was marking them as read, but eventually, he just ignored them altogether.

I prayed that he was alive and well, but he was probably just annoyed by me. Not to mention, I had other things to worry about, like my damn insomnia.

Yet, that cycle continued to loop like that as the week started.

I couldn't sleep, but since I had to go to class, I had no chance to try and sleep again, not that it ever worked anyway.

I couldn't concentrate on a damn thing. I fucked up so many drinks at work that my boss had to confront me to make sure I wasn't sick or depressed.