[18+ ONGOING]
Josephine Devereaux has spent her entire life wishing she liked change & spontaneity. But when she gets accepted into Southern Chicago U's forensics program, change suddenly isn't so scary. Fast forward two years- she's a junior at the...
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I always envied those who didn't get hangovers.
As I began to sit up, my head throbbed, and I knew that getting up was a luxury I would have to wait for.
I hadn't even drank that much, and I knew how to handle my alcohol, but nothing kept me from nursing migraines and repressing nausea the morning after.
I stared at the ceiling, recalling the night.
More specifically, the pregame.
Dale's was never unpredictable. We'd go once we were all drunk enough to save money, we would dance, Blanca and I would buy one drink, a pint of beer for me and a shot of tequila paired with a Corona for her, we'd dance more, and we'd all leave together. Somehow, we weren't tired of it just yet.
But what was unpredictable was finding out that our new designated group of friends was also home to Beckett Daniels.
I'd only seen his smug looks and messy brown hair in his element, in our element. In the classroom or the lab. So seeing him trudge out of his bedroom in loungewear, crack his neck as if he had just woken up from a nap, stretch his hands in the air high enough to reveal some of his lower abdomen that possessed a trail of dark hair leading to god knows what, and look at me with sleepy eyes, was unexpected.
To see him grab a beer and socialize with the parts of my life I had intended to keep to myself, was unexpected.
Calliope, Blanca, and Serena were a part of my world. My world outside of forensic science. He was unfortunately a big part of that world, but I was okay with seeing his stupidly perfect chiseled face often, so long as it stayed in a classroom or a scholarly setting.
That face wasn't supposed to surreptitiously slink into my other world.
The world that was mine. Where I let loose.
Where I made stupid, overtly sexual remarks that my friends laughed at. Where I drank too much sometimes and starting giggling uncontrollably, unable to resist the urge to strip because I found clothes quite suffocating once drunk. Where I occasionally smoked too much and found myself explaining the cinematic genius behind Damien Chazelle's Whiplash, amongst other movies. Where I sometimes cried on Blanca's shoulder because she did nothing but feel it with me instead of trying to fix it. Where I found myself gossiping like a schoolgirl with Calliope over her most recent class crush, devising a plan to get him or her to notice her. Where I found myself clearing gravity bongs with Serena, because her alcoholic parents made her dislike drinking, and she had no one else to smoke with her when she got stressed.
Where I was me.
I didn't want Beckett to be a part of that world not because I disliked him, but because a part of me had a feeling that he'd fit into it a little too perfectly.
He frustrated me an insane amount. He somehow managed to shut my sarcastic remarks up with ones that were more positive, which absolutely infuriated me. But I would be an idiot if I couldn't acknowledge the fact that everything came a bit too naturally with him. And that wasn't something I was willing to risk.
