I'm In Love With The Brown-Haired Boy//L.S//

Chapter Nine

It's the next morning, and I have a massive hangover. Ever since I woke up, I've just been lying in bed, watching Netflix. My stomach is killing me, and every time I move, I feel nauseous. To be honest, I don't remember much of last night. The only thing I do remember is the one thing I wish I could forget. I guess puking my brains out was enough to sober me up just enough to make that the only clear memory.

I don't remember much about the party, how I got home, or even how I ended up back in my bed. But the kiss—I remember the shape of his lips and how they felt on mine. It's all I've been wanting ever since I laid eyes on him, but I never wanted it to happen like that.

I've tried to get my mind off the kiss, but I just can't. Every time I think about it, I want to curl up into a ball and cry. Harry hasn't texted me or tried to reach out in any way. Every time I get a notification on my phone, a part of me hopes it's him, wishes it's him—but it never is.

I roll over in bed, trying to get comfortable. I told my mom I wasn't feeling well, so she brought me some soup. I've been trying to eat it, but every time I take a bite, I feel like I'm going to vomit. I've left it untouched for so long that it's gone cold.

When my mom asked why I didn't stay the night at Harry's, I lied, telling her I started feeling sick at his house, so he brought me back home. She believed me.

But when she said his name, my heart sank to my stomach. Tears pricked my eyes as memories of last night flooded back.

I really messed up this time.

***

Sunday feels exactly like Saturday, except for the constant stomach ache. I can finally tolerate food, though this time, I just don't feel like eating. I have no motivation to do anything and make no attempt to leave my bed unless it's to use the bathroom.

I'm in the middle of watching season seven of Shameless when I hear a faint knock on my door.

"Come in," I respond, barely audible.

Lottie walks in with a cupcake in her left hand.

"I made you this," she says, holding it out to me. "It's your favorite—chocolate with chocolate buttercream frosting."

She brings the plate over and places it in my hands. I take the cupcake from the plate and bite into it. Of course, it's delicious.

"Mom said you're not feeling very well, so I wanted to do something to make you feel at least a little better," she says with a small smile.

"Thank you." I set the plate down on my lap and pull her into a tight hug. "This means a lot. Thank you," I say, still holding her.

We pull apart, and she glances at me. Her expression softens, but she looks a little sad. She turns to leave, walking halfway across the room before stopping and turning back around.

"There's more if you want another. Just let me know, and I'll bring you one."

She walks out, gently closing the door behind her. I finish the rest of the cupcake while continuing my show.

Despite how annoying my sister can be, she's not so bad after all.

***

On Monday, I don't go to school. Instead, I do the same thing I've been doing for the past two days—lay in bed and eat food. I'm even still wearing the same clothes I changed into that night. My phone shows ten missed calls and fifteen unread messages from Gigi and Zayn combined, but of course, none are from Harry.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffle down the hall to the bathroom. The cold tile floor sends goosebumps up my legs as I stare at the shower. I haven't showered in four days, and I briefly consider taking one, but the thought of standing under the water feels exhausting.