I wake up to a bone-shattering headache. There's pain behind my eyes, pulsing against my skull and straining up from the cramped muscles in my neck. I feel nauseous and shattered.
What the fuck happened?
I turn in my bed and open my eyes. The ceiling is further away than it should be. The window should be above my head, not to my left, it should be smaller, too.
And then I realise that the bed I'm laying in is neither a bed nor mine. It's an old leather couch and the blanket over me is thin and made of fleece.
Where the fuck am I?
Not at home, obviously.
How did I get here?
I don't remember much of yesterday, must've had more than just one drink too many.
Claire.
Alex.
The nausea.
A friendly hand on my arm.
A flash of green hair.
Everything so blurry. A single haze of impressions and out-of-focus pictures.
I rub at my eyes with my left hand and turn onto my side.
The room is fairly large, contains a kitchen, a working space, a small table with chairs around it, and a TV. The couch is meant for TV-watching.
The building must be old. The glass in the windows is thinner than it should be, the wood isn't properly lacquered.
There's a metal-grid stairway leading up to a sort of gallery with a set of doors. Whoever I'm here with is probably up there. Maybe still asleep?
God, what if it's a boy? What if last night-
The door opens and a girl steps out. She still looks tired and only realises I'm staring at her when she's already halfway down the stairs.
She looks a bit older than me. Her hair is neon green and short, messily spiking away from her head. She's wearing grey joggers and a loose, black top, her feet are bare.
She nods at me.
"So you're alive," she says and I have absolutely no clue what to make of that.
"Remember anything that happened last night?" she asks now as she stops by the kitchen and fishes out a cup from the cupboard.
"Coffee?"
I nod and sit up. I'm still wearing the silver top and the cargo pants. My hair is hanging messily against my cheek and I put it back and begin combing it with my fingers.
"I remember going to the club with my friend," I say then.
She takes out a second cup and turns on the coffee machine. "Go on."
"I'd already drunk a fair bit before and then I went dancing... And then I went to the bar and drank more. I went to the loo and when I came back my boyfriend was there and we had a fight..."
I don't want to explain to her what we fought over. It's none of her business and I don't see how it's relevant.
"He left and I went back and drank more because I was trying to get in a good mood and then... I think I wanted to dance, but-"
The memories are too fuzzy. I don't know.
The girl leans onto the counter, hands in her pockets.
"And then?"
YOU ARE READING
Moonlit Waters
Любовные романы"I'm just scared somehow that you're not even real." "And what if I wasn't? What if I wasn't, but wanted to be?" When Timothy Crow gets the ability to turn into a girl whenever he goes swimming, his first reaction is to panic, resulting in his near...
