and the stars will all come out

chapter eighteen! ☆

LANDRY DIDN'T KNOW HOW SHE'D GOTTEN THERE, BUT SHE'D WOKEN UP SPRAWLED IN HOTEL BEDSHEETS WITH A BLINDING HANGOVER.

She blinked wearily: she had no idea what time it was, if she was even in Tennessee anymore, or anywhere in the space time continuum for that matter. All she knew was she was in absolute agony, she felt as though she hadn't slept at all, and every passing second with this pounding headache felt like a century. 

Weak, she said the only thing she could feel. "What the fuck?"

Her mouth tasted like something had died and rotted in her throat, and her voice sounded rough and gravelly from the dehydration. Honestly, she'd spent two seconds being awake, and she was surprised she hadn't puked yet.

"You alive over there?" Dave said from the other side of the room, and groaning, Landry glanced up at him.

Somehow just looking up was too much, and she immediately went to shield her eyes from the blinding white lights popping up in her vision.

She'd intended to get trashed, sure, but it had been so long since she'd actually gotten trashed.

Wheezing in a breath, she mumbled, "Fuck, that's the last time I'm drinking Fireball..."

She blinked quickly a few times, propping herself up on her elbows in an attempt to force herself to recuperate, but this didn't work, so she sank back into bed. "When's checkout time?"

"Eleven, so we have loads of time," Dave answered from that same spot on the opposite side of the room, echoing Roanoke. "Can I get you anything, by the way? A pillow? Tylenol? Breakfast?"

"Water would be good," Landry mumbled weakly, fishing out one of the many pillows underneath her and slapping it over her face. It wasn't a cure, but she was able to find some relief in the pillow-induced darkness, thank God.

"Whatever you need, dude," he replied, and bed springs creaked loudly, indicating he'd gotten out of bed. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere."

She choked out a weak laugh. "Don't worry, I can't."

Dave's footsteps were soft against the carpet, and with the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing, Landry was seemingly alone in the hotel bedroom.

She sighed into the pillow, wondering how long it would take this pounding hangover to just subside.

And we have to get back to Virginia today...

Needless to say, Landry regretted everything. But like always, in one way or another, she would find a way to get back on her feet.

☆

AS THEY CHECKED OUT OF THE HOTEL AND GINGERLY CLIMBED BACK INTO THE U-HAUL, LANDRY WAS NOW QUIET AND CONTENTED AND JUST A TAD HUNGOVER.

Popping a few Tylenol had more or less done the trick, and Dave was perfectly fine with letting the ride back to Arlandria pass in silence. He had the music up at a somewhat quiet volume - Queen and the Police, clearly Taylor inspired - and had refrained from speaking as Landry's throat healed from overuse, and she slowly became accustomed to being sober again.

She'd never been a coffee person, but here she was riding shotgun in the U-HAUL, sipping on the Thermos of bitter black liquid Dave had poured for her as she scribbled fervently in the songwriting notebook.

Only this time, she wasn't songwriting.

Hey Dave,

What do you think of hanging out sometime? Like, not at the cabin. Maybe at a movie. Or maybe we could go to the diner for lunch again, or hang out in the woods with the boulder. Whatever you like, really. Grab ice cream? Go bowling? I wouldn't mind going into DC, if you want to go there. I don't know, just something. I really like riding shotgun with you, and it's no trouble at all to be navigator. I loved Nashville.