Quiet Little French Girl. [h.s.]

Drunken Slurs; Rolling Eyes.

Thump. My head aches. Thump. What happened last night? Thump. Ugh.

The contents of last nights alcohol has not been kind to me as my head continues to ache, I feel like my brain could explode any minute. That was not my plan for last night, I was only supposed to have a couple of drinks, and remain fairly sober, so I was still in a fit enough condition to talk to Odette. I blame the lads.

Shit, Odette! What happened to her? Is she okay? How could I just leave her like that, I'm such a bad person - she's not used to clubbing and the first time she gets taken it's with a bunch of drunken hooligans. I wonder what she's going to think of me, it can't be good.

My eyes are still closed even after my mini mental breakdown - everything seems quiet and in order, I know I'm back home because I recognise the Caribbean air freshener that's plugged in to my bedroom wall. That's one thing I don't have to worry about then, at least I'm home and safe and I'm not in some random strangers apartment.

My eyes reluctantly begin to peel open, the crusty residue from my nights sleep still in the inner corner as I attempt to look around the room. At first it's a glassy sight but I quickly blink it away and begin to focus on my familiar surroundings, everything seems normal, it's almost frightening how calm the morning is.

A deep breath overwhelms me and I suddenly realise my lack of clothing, I'm naked. How did I get naked?

A small piece of paper sits itself on my bedside cabinet; I notice that the beautiful cursive writing etched onto the paper with fresh blue ink reads, 'Breakfast?'

I smile at the note and hastily get dressed, only Odette could make me feel this excited on a Sunday morning with the simplicity of a one-worded note. The further through the apartment I walk the more I am able to smell the heavenly food that most likely is readily prepared on one of my marbled kitchen counters, she's extremely organised and has most likely timed it all perfectly. 'Good morning' she signs with a knowing smirk, oh god, what did I do?

"Morning baby," I smirk back, two can play at that game.

After her short rush of embarrassment, Odette composes herself and places a large plate of food in front of me. Everything made just the way I like it, fried eggs sunny-side-up with bacon, coated in just the right amount of crisp; other foods lay waiting beside the goods on my plate and I search frantically for a knife and fork so I can divulge in the viands before me. Sensations explode in my mouth as I taste the mouthwatering meat, everything so evenly balanced it sends me into a type of sensory euphoria.

"What happened last night?" I finally break my own silence, Odette's eyes scan my lips and then lift to my own - clogs turning in her head as if she's considering whether to actually relay yesterday's events. This worries me, oh god, seriously, what did I do?

'You had an amazing time.' She explains with a silenced chuckle.

A bitter burn trickles down my throat as I swallow what is most likely my sixth shot of the night, several other drinks already in my system at this point. My hand firmly grasped in another, a way of ceasing the spinning room and preventing anymore lightheadedness - it works to a degree but doesn't sober me like I wish it would.

"Who's designated driver?" I slur my words, glancing at the three, also intoxicated, lads in front of me; Odette securely to my left as she soberly chats with Amy, their conversation about being the only two girls left...or something or other.

"Odette shall drive our chariot." Niall laughs hysterically at his own joke, provoking the rest of us to follow his contagious actions. "Oh and Amy, she's beautiful. You're beautiful, have I ever told you that?" His reckless hand grabs Amy's forearm and she watches on, stunned. Clearly he's never told her that then. I laugh to myself.