May Kill Me

Fifteen

It takes a lot of effort to open my eyes: my eyelids feel puffy and practically glued together. 

When I finally have my eyes open, the first thing I see is a desert orange ceiling. That's how I immediately know I am not at my microscopic apartment. 

"Good, you're alive." A familiar - and slightly mocking voice - says from somewhere on my left. 

Turning my head hurts. 

Every limb in my body feels like it weighs about a hundred kilos. 

I try to speak next, but all that comes out is a frog-like croak. 

"Easy there, tiger. You had quite the night."

My brain - slowly regaining its function - places the voice as Jenna's, and once I have enough strength to push myself to a sitting position I realize that it is her. 

Jenna is sprawled on an armchair across from me, clad in a see-through white shirt and short black cotton shorts. Her thick black hair is made into a messy bun atop her head. 

"Breakfast?" She gestures at me with the pink bong in her hands. 

When I shake my head no (feeling like my brain rattles inside my head), Jenna just shrugs, brings her lights to the bowl, and takes a long hit.  

"Where am I?" I finally manage, and my voice sounds hoarse and deep like I've been smoking packs of cigarettes daily for the better part of my life. 

"Whoa," Jenna coughs out a plum of smoke, "You sound really gross." 

I feel really gross. 

At least, with the exception of my shoes, I am fully dressed. 

"You're at my place. Fuck, you really don't remember anything?" Jenna shoots at me, sounding both incredulous and disgusted. 

"Your place? How did I end up here?"  

The couch groans slightly under my weight as I shift in place. It's a faded mustered-colored corduroy sofa with sunken cushions. The coffee table in front of me is littered with opened beer bottles, and two half-full ashtrays containing cigarette butts and mostly finished joints. A sad-looking and neglected plant stand by a window that has no curtains. 

The single piece of art in the room is an Audrey Hepburn canvas printout that hangs behind Jenna. It looks very oddly out of place. 

"You got shit-faced," Jenna says with a shrug, before taking another hit. 

I got shit-faced? I never got shit-faced before. Buzzed, maybe, but not out of control flat-out drunk that I blacked out. 

At least I was still fully dressed, except for my shoes. My Adidas shell-toes are placed neatly on the floor. I can't imagine Jenna taking my shoes off and placing them carefully beside me. But then again, I didn't know her that well. I didn't know her at all. 

Fragments of memories from last night come back: Travis and I were sitting at a coffee shop working on the presentation when Jenna showed out seemingly out of nowhere. She invited us to a friend's birthday celebration at some bar and the rest... The rest I couldn't remember. 

This was insanely out of character for me. 

"Thank god you're okay!" 

Travis walked into the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist, showing chiseled abs and well-defined biceps. 

"Morning, baby!" Jenna's demeanor changed entirely when she saw Travis, practically jumping out of the armchair, all giddy like a schoolgirl. Her reaction to Travis was quite the contrast to how she greeted me this morning. 

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" Travis dislodged himself gently from Jenna. She grimaced at this, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"I'm okay, a bit light-headed," I replied, rubbing my temple. 

"Don't move, I'll get you some water and an Advil, okay?" Travis was gone before I could even say anything. 

Jenna rolled her eyes and went back to the armchair, not saying anything. 

I was starting to feel even more awkward and out of place than before. There was clearly something going on between the two of them, and Jenna seemed jealous. Even in my clouded-mind state, I could see that much.

"Here," Travis came back with a tall glass of water and a liquid-gel Advil pill. 

"Thanks," I replied, taking both gingerly. Even though he had the towel around his waist, he was standing right in front of me, and the fact that his crotch was pretty much right in my face didn't escape me. 

I swallowed the pill, followed by a long drink from the glass, feeling the thing slide down my throat. 

I then took another long gulp, finishing the water. 

I didn't realize I was that thirsty. 

"Where's my backpack?" 

"It's right here," Travis briskly bent over and produced my backpack which was placed on the other side of the couch - hidden from view. 

Travis's hair, which was usually stylized and gelled back, was hanging limply over his forehead and grazing his eyebrows, making him look more like a nerd rather than the douchey jock-type I was used to. 

"I'll get you more water," Travis offers, disappearing again. 

"Thank you," I mumble in response, unzipping my backpack. 

I have one text from Andrea, and all it says in all caps is WE NEED TO TALK. 

"Here," Travis comes back with another glass of water. I down this one just as quickly before asking him how I can get home from here. 

"I can give you a ride; I'm heading to work, anyway." Travis offers. 

"Or there's the bus," Jenna suggests, speaking for the first time since she set back down in her armchair. 

"I'll give her a ride," Travis repeats, a bit forcefully. 

Jenna winces but doesn't say anything. 

Yup, there's definitely something going on between these two. 

And I definitely don't want to be caught in the middle of it. 

"I can take the bus, really. It's not a problem." 

"See, she can take the bus." Jenna practically hisses at Travis. 

"Look, Oceane, I'm not just going to let you get home all on your own. Give me five minutes to change, okay? You can wait outside the apartment building if that makes you feel better." 

"Sure," I reply, placing the glass of water on the coffee table. 

I don't wait for Travis to leave the room before I quickly put my sneakers on. Truth is, I want to get out of here as soon as I can, especially with Jenna glaring at me the whole time. 

"You know," Jenna says suddenly - once Travis isn't with us - "Men don't find it very attractive." 

"What?" I blink at her in confusion, expecting her to say something about Travis and my interaction with him. 

"When you're obsessed like that. That guy, Jonathan, if he knew you're still pining after him, I'm pretty sure he'd find it very creepy." 

"Jonathan?" I stared at her, feeling even more shocked than I did this morning when I woke up in a stranger's apartment. 

"Yeah. You wouldn't shut up about him the whole night. It was a massive turnoff," She smirks.