All Over You

Hands I Haven't Felt

I feel better than I deserve, my head doesn't pound and my stomach feels only slightly unsettled. Although that may be because I'm still drunk or because I'm distracted, rushing around the house throwing makeup and clothes everywhere. I don't even have time to do my hair, so race out of the house in jeans and unbrushed night before curls. I wince into the car mirror as I slam the door, considering whether I should be driving when there's probably still copious amounts of alcohol in my system. I must be getting old, I never used to feel this hungover and dehydrated after a simple night out with colleagues. I wish I had drank some water, or even better saved some for this morning because I'm gasping. 

I go to back out of my drive regardless of last nights unlawful consumption, but my stomach drops. Liam. I text Liam last night. I slam the breaks. 

My hands fly to my head as panic takes over. I fumble through my bag and open my phone which is low on battery as I forgot to charge it before I crashed out. I cringe hard at the message I sent. Then I cringe even harder at the fact there's no response.

My stomach churns even worse than it did this morning. I always look forward to seeing Liam but I almost hope that today is the exception and that we don't cross paths. Not only do I look as if I dressed in the dark but I also can't believe I have fucked up this bad and mentally promise myself to never do so again. Liam means too much to me. I can't be drunk messaging him like a teenager. I need to sort my act out. This, and I'm still late to work. So I have to throw my phone back in my bag and floor it all the way to the studios. 

Being late is something I have never experienced before. The whole place is so empty and calm that it's somewhat soothing. The atmosphere is almost serene with no busy workers rushing about to get things done. I know this will all change the second I enter the studio. My scuffed trainers squelch against the floor and my breath quickens while I burst throughout the building.

"Tiffany. You're late. Someone has filled your spot." Hayley booms the second the studio doors shut behind me. 

I cringe once again as a thousand heads turn to look at me. I now despise being late. I sheepishly shuffle about in the spotlight, my ratty hair seeming even more untameable now everyone's staring. I hurriedly rake my hands through it in hopes of a distraction. I shouldn't have worn these jeans. They're much too tight and dont even reach my ankles. I'm sure everyone else is thinking that too. I wish they'd all look away. I glare at Hayley for intensifying this embarrassment. She has a little more hatred than usual in her gorgeous hazel eyes today. Especially when she glances back in my direction. I assume that's also due to last nights antics. The nights where you aim to go easy and only stay for "one or two" always end up doing the most damage. I hope her and Geoff didn't argue too severely, after all the drinks were my suggestion.

"We need some behind the scenes photography. I hope you can deal with that." Hayley continues, dumping a heavy piece of camera equipment in my hands. 

I throw the strap over my head and trip over my feet on the way to Keira, who's eyes are gleaming. Seemingly, the hangover gods decided to spare her. She doesn't seem too bothered by the fact that I, Tiffany Davenport, am late. I should be more worried that she will be frustrated with me, after all she is the head of department. I forget that sometimes due to how close we are. 

"Alex asked me out on a date! A proper one!" she squeals, her camera headset hanging around her neck. I miss that feeling. Hayley's consolation job is nothing like my true passion. 

"Did you say yes?" I giggle back, matching her enthusiasm despite the morning from hell.

"Of course! Its an actual date!"

"So last night must've been something special?" I tease. 

"Not like that! I am just glad he seems to want more with me."