Never Summer Again

Chapter Eighteen - The One Ring

Score: Anti-hero - Taylor Swift

Lydia

My fingers are trembling, as I pull up Patrick's name from my contacts. I have to call him, I need to talk to him.

I need to be at peace with myself again.

My head is throbbing with what is possibly the world's worst hangover. My mouth is dry like the Sahara and my eyes feel like they're full of sand. I know I took way too many shots last night, but they couldn't have possibly been that many. I am sipping on my water in the back of Nate's car on our way back to London.

Thank God he's awake now, and Alex offered to give me a lift back. My other option was Greg, which gives me shivers even now. Or it might be the alcohol...

Nate goes over a bump on the road and I whimper. A splitting pain shoots through my skull, blinding me for a second.

Why the hell are we doing this to our bodies? Are human beings fucking dumb? I am never drinking again...

...Is the most abused phrase in the world, I know...

Last night must have been a complete blast. I have no recollection of how I'd gotten to Petra's room and when I had fallen asleep. The only thing I remember is that I woke up this morning, fully clothed, sprawled across Petra's bed, and Alex was sleeping on the floor next to the bed.

As the car keeps moving, I feel vomit rising up in my throat. I look at Patrick's name on my phone and my chest tightens. I know this is the right thing to do. I just didn't know how hard it is to do the right thing.

OK, here we go.

I press the button and wait.

Patrick picks up on the second ring and sounds cheerful.

"Good morning, babe, how'd it go?"

"Ugh..." I groan, as a statement. Patrick laughs on the other end of the line.

"That good, eh? Who won?"

My airways feel like they've collapsed, not letting anything in or out, as I try and say the name.

"Mark did."

"Oh, good for him," Patrick says, but his enthusiasm's gone. Or it might be just my guilty mind, playing tricks on me. "Anything interesting? Any highlights from the night?"

"I don't remember much, really," I say, trying to keep my voice calm, despite the things I do remember. "It was epic, I've been told. Nate dared Alex and I to make out."

"Again? Oh, darn, now I wish I was there even more."

"Pig."

"I know." He laughs and my heart twists in my chest again.

Making out with Alex is not something new, we've drunk-made out before, and both Nate and Patrick are OK with it. Actually, I've kissed more girls than boys in my life. The only two guys I've ever kissed are Mark and Patrick. Drunk-snogging a girl on a night out is something totally acceptable.

Snogging Mark, under any circumstances, though, while dating Patrick, is totally not, and is something I need to deal with now.

"Listen, babe, we need to talk," Alex turns around in her seat, looking at me with understanding and pity. She's been so supportive of the whole situation.

Her sad smile brings back flashbacks from the conversation we had this morning in Petra's room. I had asked her if everything was OK with Nate when I found her sleeping on the floor next to the bed.