Clarissa Lincoln is a martini glass half full type. Heck, even when she slurps the last bits of icy vodka from the glass, she'll tell you it's plumb full!
Until a disaster of a night on New Year's Eve sends the daydreaming, serial dater spiraling as...
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Taylor Swift wakes me up the following day.
It seems the queen of pop wants to remind me that no one is asking me to just say yes. It's not her fault I chose that song as my ringtone, but it still feels taunting today. The song finally fades as whoever is calling this early on New Year's Day wisely stops.
I pull the soft velvet eye mask from my face, shielding my eyes as they adjust to the bright sun shining from the glass door leading to my little balcony.
Now that I've given up on love, I guess I'll have to change my ringtone. What era should I enter next? Maybe Red, no... I did Red recently. Midnight maybe? We all know that was a breakup album now.
But it's not a breakup with Thad, is it? We never even saw what we could be before that evil redhead got between us.
I'll switch it to Bieber's song Lonely; that should fit my twenty-twenty-four vibes. Someone doesn't agree when Taylor's muffled voice comes through the apartment again.
"It's New Year's Day people sleep!" I yell grumpily from my bed at whoever it is.
Then suddenly, my eyes shoot wide open. What if it's Thad? What if he realized he made a terrible decision and regrets it now!?
I nearly fall off my daybed, which is actually a pullout bed from my couch. When you live in a small space, everything has multiple purposes, like my dresser, which is also TV stand, or my end table, which often serves as a dinner table, and my chair and or laundry basket.
Someday, I'll be so rich that each room will have its own purpose.
My cell phone continues singing, and I go in search of it.
I assume my purse is somewhere under a pile of clothes on my floor and my phone is in it. I kneel over the pretty teal, pink and purple checkered rug I had to have as I search. It matches my lavender couch, yes, lavender. The perk of being a girl living alone is that my entire apartment is done in feminine, girly colors. I got to choose it all, with the help of Candice and Melanie, of course.
Where is my damn phone? I chuck a sweater across the room as I search.
I have to pee so bad, but it could be Thad calling, and I need to know.... The song stops, and I grumble, but luckily, I see my faux coach hiding under an old blanket just as it stops.
I frantically pull the phone from my purse and lunge for the bathroom.
Melanie was the one who called twice; not Thad. My heart drops that I was wrong. I make a face at my phone and set it on the vanity as I brush the nasty morning breath from my teeth.
I don't look half bad, considering. My hair is still almost straight from my blowout yesterday, aside from a few flyways, and my makeup is only slightly smeared. A quick face wash makes me look pale, and my eyes are puffy but not too frightening.
