Jennie
The door swings open.
"Go away," I immediately croak. I can't look at her - I just know the disgust in her eyes would make me die of shame.
She doesn't listen, of course. When does Lisa ever listen? Then next thing I know she's beside me, gathering up my hair, pulling it out of the way. She's saying something but I can't make it out over the pounding in my head and the turning of my stomach.
When the retches finally abate I sit there, on my knees, my arms still hugging the commode, and rest my head against the thankfully-clean porcelain. Lisa begins to rub my back, and it feels... good. I sigh. I'm too embarrassed to feel good about what she's doing. I wish she'd flush the toilet, ridding us of my first upheaval, but it doesn't happen; eventually my arm is flopping for the handle, ungracefully shoving it down and letting it clang back into place. The evidence of my shame swirls and disappears.
"You feel better?" she eventually asks. I want to snort at the question. No, never will I feel better about this moment.
I feel weak, shaky and sweaty, but no longer nauseous. "I'm okay," I mutter.
"I made you something," she says. I immediately think of food and feel sick at the thought.
"I don't want it," I groan.
"You don't even know what it is."
"I can't even look at food right now."
"It's not food," she says. "Well, not exactly." She stands up from the floor, pulls a hand towel from the cupboard and wets it in the sink. Suddenly, cool water is on my neck and that feels good, too. I moan in appreciation.
"You going to camp out here for a while?" she asks. I still haven't moved from my toilet-hugging spot.
"I need a shower," I mumble, mostly to myself. I feel disgusting. I'm sure I look even worse, which is unsettling considering I'm sitting next to Ms.. Sexy Sobriety over here.
"Okay, take your time," she says quickly. "You know where everything is?"
I hadn't meant to imply I wanted to use her shower. It seems weird. I don't know her well enough, do I?
Oh hell, Jennie, it's not like she'll be joining you.
Though after her fiery kisses last night, that doesn't seem like such a horrible idea...
Stop it, you floozy!
I need a cold shower, stat. I manage to nod against the porcelain, to which Lisa responds, "All right, but you should really try to drink some water first. I'll go get your glass." I sit there, plastered to the toilet, until I hear her return and set the glass on the counter. The click of the bathroom door follows her retreat.
Throwing up made me feel a little better. I'm not nauseous anymore, at least. I brush my teeth and gulp half the glass of water before stripping and stepping into the shower. I try it cold at first, but that just seems torturous, so I quickly crank the heat and indulge under the hot water for the next twenty minutes. I use the shampoo and conditioner I found lurking in her cupboard, not bothering to put them back when I'm done. I figure the game is back on; there shall be no more cleaning for me.
When I'm done I poke my head out the door. Lisa isn't anywhere in sight so I make a quick dash for the bedroom wrapped in nothing but a fluffy towel. When I'm safely inside I dress in my old clothes and brush my hair. I search for my cell phone for nearly five more minutes before finding it under the bed. What the hell? I'm not surprised to see there were a dozen drunken texts sent to Jisoo before I passed out.
What's more surprising is the half dozen or so missed calls from Rosé. Persistent, much? I have a feeling Lisa doesn't like the idea of us befriending each other... which is all the more reason to return the call. I quickly hit resend and wait.
"Jennie!" she answers. "I've called you a million times. Are you okay?"
I cringe - her shrieking nearly splits my head open.
"I'm fine," I assure. "Could you speak a little lower? My head really hurts."
"Ooh," she says, lowering her voice. "You hungover?"
"You're not?" I ask in disbelief.
"A little," she admits. She doesn't sound hungover at all, and I'm green with envy. "I don't get bad hangovers. Oh, but Chanyeol makes the best hangover remedies. I can give you the recipe real quick if you want. Or, ooh! I can come over and make one for you!" She sounds so excited, her voice rising to that head-exploding pitch again.
"Rosé..." I groan.
"Whoops! Sorry!" This time she whispers. "Is Lisa with you right now?"
For some unknown reason, hearing her whisper makes me want to whisper. It's funny how that is, but I match her tone when I reply, "No. She's downstairs."
"Did you just go to her house last night and pass out?"
I falter. "Um, something like that."
"I'm so sorry about last night, Jennie. I had no idea you were blowing chunks in the bathroom."
I groan at the memory. In fifty years, I think I'll still look back on this day and be embarrassed.
"Don't remind me," I mutter pathetically.
"What are you guys doing today?" she whispers.
"I don't know. I've been throwing up all morning," I whisper back.
"You sure you don't want me to come make that remedy for you? I swear it works."
"Lisa said she made me something. I'm not really sure it's a remedy, though..."
"Her remedy won't be as good as mine," she says confidently.
"I'll be fine, Rosé."
"You know, we're going out to dinner with Chitthip and Marco tonight. You should come!"
"When you say 'we' you mean..."
"Lisa and I, of course."
