When You Least Expect It

37

Oh fuck. I'm woken to the unmistakable feeling of sick churning in my stomach. My head is pounding. I have to fight my way out of the sheet I'm tangled up in as the gag builds in my throat. I grab at my trash can but it's too late. The first heave lands on the carpet with a sickening splat. I'm more successful hitting the trashcan the second time.

The room is spinning as my stomach continues to empty. What feels like a never-ending cycle of the sour smell causing another gag which leads to more vomit which leads to another gag. My stomach starts to ache as the muscles contract once again.

Finally, it stops. The last of the contents of my stomach empty into the trash can. I quickly knot the bag, so the smell is somewhat contained. My head is throbbing at this point, and now I have to clean the floor. I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and my knuckles burn. Well, that sucks.

As I'm making my way back up to my room, cleaning supplies in hand, I hear shouting coming from the third floor. I can't quite make out the voices, but someone is not having a great morning. My stomach churns once again and I decide to mind my business.

The smell of vomit and spot cleaner isn't making this easy for me. I don't know why I let myself get so drunk, but boy do I regret it now. Actually, I do know why. Whitney.

It's always Whitney. Somehow, I let that girl get in my head and instead of being an adult, I decided to drink until life made sense, or didn't. I don't know.

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It's early evening when I wake up from my second nap, the room still smells like stomach acid and spot cleaner. My stomach churns, but this time it's hunger pain. Nothing sounds good at the moment but I know it won't subside so I might as well find something.

After rustling around in the cabinets and finding nothing worth having, I figure I might as well jog down and see what Jay is up to. Have some salad or a smoothie or something light. I have a feeling a greasy burger and fries might not be the answer for me tonight.

I'm lacing up my shoes when I hear arguing on the stairs coming my way. Curiosity gets the better of me and I press my ear against the door to get a better listen.

"I know! Okay? I know. You've told me a hundred times already! I get it, give it a rest!"

"I'm just saying, he gave me a bad vibe from the start. I mean like I'm sorry you're going through it but..."

"Lace, I swear if you say it again, I'm going to shove you down these stairs!"

Wait, Lace?

I casually open the door and step out, "Hey, I thought I heard you two out here..."

I stop when I see Katie's face. "Katie are you ok? What's going on?"

Her face is tear stained; she's clearly been crying. Lacie's face scrunches up, "Now is probably not the best time Derek."

Katie stomps past me and up the next set of stairs. Well, that's a first.

The door slams and I turn back to Lacie, "What happened? Did I do something to her? Is this about last night?"

"Technically, yes. But no? I don't know." She shakes her head, "You didn't do anything wrong. But it is about last night."

"I think I'm more confused now, explain."

She sighs, "I don't even know if it's my place to say. I just want to be there for Kate." She glances towards the stairs, "You know what, fuck it. You're like one of her best friends. That guy she's seeing, Bryce? He got super pissed off because she came running to help you last night. He left while she was helping you and when she finally ran in to him today... He called her a fat cheating bitch. Said everyone knows she's "your whore". He yelled at her and just kept calling her awful names."