Those Ocean Eyes

Chapter 30

When Cassie wakes up again, the bed's empty and she feels chilled to the bone. She heaves herself into an upright position and cocks her head to the side, but all she can hear is the house settling around her. She can't really blame Schwimmer for bailing on her – she probably looks like road-kill and smells like a distillery, and her attitude this morning obviously didn't give Rachel much of an incentive to stick around. It's not like she could even ply her with sex; not when the slightest movement made her want to toss her cookies. Cassie knows she's too fucked up to date a fresh-faced kid; that she has nothing to offer Schwimmer outside of the classroom, and it looks like Rachel's finally figured out that she's lusting after a lost cause, too.

Cassie squares her shoulders, forcing herself to swallow the disappointment – because why should she care, really? - and then she gingerly kicks back the covers. It takes a moment for the room to stop spinning, and she stays rooted to the spot, waiting for the nausea to subside. It doesn't, and she barely makes it to the bathroom before she's heaving her guts up, retching violently into the toilet. Eventually, there's nothing left to regurgitate, and she scrunches her nose up, hastily flushing the chain. It's a monumental effort to haul her sorry ass into the shower, but she slumps against the tiles, letting the spray go some way towards revitalising her. She stays there for a long time, feeling empty and exhausted, until it occurs to her that she should probably start saving on her electric, because she only has a couple of month's living allowance left in her bank account. She hastily soaps herself up, shampooing her hair and splashing some cold water on her face, and then she brushes her teeth until her gums start to scream in protest.

Her hand hovers over the thermostat as she walks slowly back to her room, but she opts not to turn the heating on, bundling herself into a fleece and some pyjama pants instead. Then she makes her way towards the kitchen, and her mouth falls open when she sees a stack of freshly washed dishes on her draining board. Her counter-tops are gleaming, there's no sign of the empty bottles from last night, and her washing machine's in the middle of a rinse cycle. It's almost like Schwimmer's trying to make some kind of comment about her slovenly tendencies.

Cassie's gaze falls on the note that's been taped to the breakfast bar, and she warily picks it up.

"Went to buy some groceries & pick up a change of clothes. I'll be back soon. Drink lots of water. Rachel xoxoxo"

Cassie rolls her eyes, but her heart starts thudding with relief, and she gladly takes Rachel's advice, quenching her thirst with a glass of water and throwing a couple of painkillers into the mix. Then she turns around, and realises the cabinet that's become her designated mini-bar - the one that houses her emergency stash, not to mention the wine she pulls out on the rare occasions she has someone over - is completely empty. She gapes at the barren shelves in disbelief, and momentarily forgets that she's an ailing woman. She runs to the window to check out her recycling can and, sure enough, it's chock-full of empty bottles.

"That little cunt," she curses, but then she starts laughing because, really, only Schwimmer would have the gumption to raid her cabinets, throw away hundreds of dollars worth of booze, and then run off with her house key.

Muttering under her breath, Cassie traipses back to her room and blow-dries her hair. She glances in the mirror, wincing at her sickly pallor, and then dabs on some moisturiser, hoping that it'll rehydrate her drawn skin. She coats her chapped lips with cocoa butter, relieved to see that they're quickly starting to heal – not that it really matters, because she doesn't plan on kissing that sanctimonious little shit anytime soon. Then she burrows back under the covers, and waits.

She's just starting to doze off again when she hears the front door clicking open, and her mouth sets in a grim line as she inches off the bed. She storms towards the hallway, just in time to see Schwimmer walking through her door laden with groceries and what looks suspiciously like an overnight bag. If Cassie had a chivalrous bone in her body, she'd offer to help her, but right now, she's content to just watch her struggle... even if Schwimmer does look kind of hot in her scandalously short mini-skirt, which Cassie's pretty sure she wasn't wearing last night.