Only you | Derek Morgan

Was she worth it?

L A Y L A ' S P O V

Drinks with Penelope is always a good idea, in the moment. The next morning though? Not so much.

One reason I'm sure I'll never become an alcoholic is because of how shitty the hangover is. I feel fragile, exhausted, achy and any noise above a whisper makes me want to cry.

I've yet to open my eyes but I can hear Penelope's groans of discomfort beside me, no doubt feeling exactly as bad as I do right now.

Somewhere around our third glass of wine last night, I confided in her about the fight Derek and I had yesterday and the distance leading up to it. After listening to me ramble through it all, Penelope too concluded that his behaviour has been weird lately.

"Thats so not like him," She had said, her eyebrows scrunching together tightly. "Wait.. maybe he's proposing."

"Nah," I had told her, with the same sheer bluntness Derek delivered in that exact sentence to me when I asked a few weeks ago. "Not any time soon."

Somewhere between our fourth and fifth glass of wine, which was like water to us at that point, Penelope had the brilliant idea to give Derek a taste of his own medicine with a dose of distance, and convinced me to not go home last night and to stay over at her apartment. And for some reason I agreed, which I am seriously now regretting while I fight back the urge to throw up all over her living room floor.

We ended up passing out on the couch sometime in the early hours of the morning. My head is pounding as I reach between the cushions for my phone. When I realise it's dead, I sluggishly pull myself up to a seated position.

My car is parked outside but I'm in no state to drive right now so with a lethargic form of mumbled permission from Penelope, I request an Uber from her phone.

I eventually muster up enough energy to make it to the kitchen to get some water. I rub at my eyes and groan when I realise that the hazy blurriness in them is not from the hangover, but from the fact that I took my contacts out at some point last night, not realising I didn't have my glasses with me.

"Are you nearsighted or farsighted?"

"Far," Penelope grumbles into the pillow she's clutching, mumbling about her computer screens doing her no favours.

"Damn," I sigh when I realise I can't even borrow a pair of her glasses. My short distance is fine, my difficulty is seeing things far way.

Just before I get the notification that my ride is downstairs, I throw a blanket over Penelope and tuck her in since there's no way she's moving from this couch for the foreseeable. I also leave some pain meds and water for her on the coffee table.

"As much as I hate you right now.." Penelope flashes me the brightest grin she can muster up in her fragile state. "I had fun last night."

"Hate me?" I have to laugh. "It was your idea to open that third bottle and you know it, Penelope Garcia."

"Shhh," She mocks, turning back to her beloved pillow. "I'm sleeping."

When I eventually make it in to my Uber, I roll down the window as soon as we get on the road and hope and pray the fresh air does me some good. I cannot wait to get home.

Derek went out for drinks with Spencer last night and part of me is hoping he's feeling as hungover as me this morning so I can convince him to take a sick day with me. We can nap until the late afternoon, order food and eat it in bed and finally talk. Because whatever this fight is? Im over it. Maybe Penelope was right. That night apart might be exactly what we needed.