I COULD GIVE two fucks about why Quinn cares if I had a good sleep. I just nod my head, muster up an excuse about an early class, and spend the next few hours sulking―I prefer to call it sleeping―until the other person in the room walks in.
"Woah. What..."
I roll my eyes. On the phone again. Here we go.
"Is this your sleeping mask?" She taps my shoulder and I jolt a little.
"What?" I look at it. "N―oh, yeah, that's mine."
Quinn wears a sleeping mask? I think. The more I analyze it, the more it doesn't make sense on why he would leave the mask here. If it's crucial, which it is, and very evident with the whole yellow thing then it wouldn't make sense―he did it on purpose.
Of course, he fucking did.
This idiot gives all the fucks in the world about what everyone else thinks about him, so I toss it in the drawer and head to class.
✤✤✤
I'M VERY PROUD of myself for not thinking about Quinn for the rest of the day―well, until now. But that doesn't matter. The day is nearly done, I'm about to take a nice, warm shower after this run, and I'm going to sleep.
I'm going to have a very nice sleep. No more crying, no more suicidal thoughts. Just me... being me, which I just realized means I will cry and think of suicide.
Fucking shit.
Luckily, I'm right at the dorm entrance so even if I wanted to stop running, I already did. So at least I got my running done for today. I should feel proud of myself.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know."
I run to the bathroom for a quick pee before entering the dorm room, but just as fate has it his door swings open and he's looking at me. "Hey, oh my god, I did not think I would see you."
I wrinkle my eyebrows. "What?"
"I left my, uh, sleeping mask in your room. I was wondering if I could have it back." He laughs as if he finds that funny. How the fuck is that funny.
"Ye―you left your sleeping mask in my room? Are you sure?"
He seems confused as hell. "Yeah, I did."
I shrug my shoulders. "You could've left it with some other girl. I don't have it."
"What? I-I was with you last night." I shake my head. This guy. "I get the joke, I just don't understand where it's coming from."
"Look, I have to piss," I tell him and I don't look back.
✤✤✤
SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN pissing and cleaning my ass, I come to the realization that I'm mad at Quinn because a part of me wanted Quinn to kiss me and make me feel good like in that video.
At least I know what I want.
Before it was just a blurry picture, but now I know what I'm mad at Quinn for.
I don't know how much of a benefit that it is because somehow my negative voice turns that thought on me and makes me feel bad about myself.
It really gets to my head and what makes it worse is that it's me that's bullying myself.
Or actually, no.
What's worse is that I didn't see Quinn again. Not like I was looking forward to seeing him again, but it would make sense for him to clarify things with me...maybe the amount of romantic movies I've been watching has really gotten to my head.
I think that's what prompts me to smoke a bunch of weed. At first, it's just a weird smell.
Because, picture this, I'm standing outside Quinn's door planning on giving him his fucking sleeping mask and hopefully starting a conversation after (don't ask, I just want someone to talk to).
And then I start smelling this really strong scent. I'm not sure how weed really smells, but I heard it's really strong—okay, so I guess I do—and I know that the scent of weed was reported recently.
And then I start to think about the reason why I'm even giving this guy's sleeping mask back after he treated me like that. Or why I even want to have a conversation with him.
So I bang on the door—anxiously at first kr whatever—and this guy wearing all baggy clothes—I recognize him from welcome week—appears confused as hell.
"Are you guys smoking weed?" I ask. He nods his head as if it's nothing illegal or anything considering the guy's only 18, which I guess I wouldn't give a fuck either. "Well, I mean, can I have some? Or do you know where I could find it?"
"Well, I mean, you could have some if you want," he says wearily and he motions to the weed piled on his desk. I look at it anxiously because I'm not even sure how to even smoke it.
"Well, uh, how do you smoke it?" I ask.
"You don't smoke it," some guy announces rudely and he begins to show me.
I hesitate at first and then that same guy remarks some insulting remark, so I go for it, which I don't get why I do because—again—I ding give a shit about what other people say.
But I think what I did was a huge mistake. Because I don't feel insanely high like I thought I would, I feel like I'm going to die any minute.
And no one will even care to help me because the only two people in the room are complete strangers to me.
But then I'm back to normal and the two guys look at me strangely. I start to get up suddenly. "The first one's always shitty."
"Yeah, I don't think so—"
"C'mon! The second one is the one where you actually get high."
So I get down on the ground again and I inhale. And, yeah, for the most part I do feel pretty good about myself. All my negative thoughts fade away. And the first thing that was on my mind is now obsolete.
In fact, I feel pretty great. It only sucks that when it's over, I'm looking at two guys again. So I take a few more. And the best part is: they don't stop me.
