Hate To Miss You (2) | 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙷𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚜 ❈

Six

I knew I was going to be hungover, but I had never anticipated just how much. There was a point in the night that I couldn't remember past, some time around twelve when I was in my seventh drink, and from there in our everything was a blur. I had fuzzy memories, memories that I couldn't decipher.

Blue eyes, breath against my ear, hands on my waist, kissing in the back of a car, I was assuming that was a cab. But who the hell was I kissing? The last memory I had however, was throwing me off, a bare chest against my own, and the sound of somebody moaning.

I looked down at my body, not naked. Okay? So, I had faint memories of possible intercourse but I was in a t-shirt and shorts? Had I just gotten dressed after? How did I even manage that in the state I was in? And who the hell had I hooked up with. My mind immediately paints a picture of Luke Hemmings, because he's the only person I was with last night with blue eyes, but that didn't seem right. I would never kiss Luke, not like that, he was like a brother. No amount of alcohol would change that.

And so, who?

All of this confusion was giving me a headache, and I rolled with a groan over to grab my phone off the nightstand. My eyes landed on a sticky note. I cocked my head to the side, my brain pounding against my skull at the movement. I reached for it with shaky hands, and knew one thing, I only ever shook like that after sex, and I'd only ever had sex with one person.

It couldn't be, right?

No way, I shook the thought from my mind quickly. Jack had a girlfriend and I didn't want anything to do with him, so why would it be him?

The note wasn't much, and gave me near to no answers, just a love heart in the middle of the post it. My head felt like it was going to explode and I knew only one single thing. I needed Advil and a bagel. I texted Faye, not wanting to get out of bed to face the sunlight, but also wanting Advil so badly I might cry.

She trudged into my bedroom, seemingly with a hangover of her own, and gave me the two little pills to swallow with some water. She was still in her pyjamas, which looked just as dishevelled as mine, telling me she was probably just as drunk when she put them on.

"What even happened last night," she groaned, rubbing her eyes.

I sat up in my bed, my pillows a mess and my mind reeling. "No idea, but this is why I don't go out."

"I feel you, girl," she sighed, also flopping on top of my covers. "I feel like shit."

"Same," I admitted. "Hey, you didn't see me come home with anyone last night did you?"

Faye shook her head no, shrugging. "I came home with Luke around two, I think you stayed back with those hockey boys."

My heart stopped, and my eyes widened. "Hockey boys?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "That cute one you like was all over you last I saw."

Panic started to settle in at the realisation that there was two possibilities, both not good. The first, was that I'd slept with Nico, not even making it to the date we were meant to be going on tomorrow night, which was mildly embarrassing and made me wonder if he'd still talk to me after sleeping together. But, why would he leave a heart? The second, was a possibility I didn't even want to entertain, and that was that I'd gone home with Jack.

I don't even recall seeing the brunette last night, which made matters worse. But the scariest part, was that I had images of blue eyes and hands I recognised worshiping me between my sheets.

I think, deep down I knew, I knew from the handwriting on the post it that I'd recognise anywhere and the distant memories I had of the boy, but I wasn't willing to admit that it could have happened. Not now, not after all this time.