about you | c.c & k.m

•six

Present time
Indiana

I woke up to the sound of the pre-alarm I set last night. Today, Caitlin was supposed to—finally—take me on some tourist activities, since I only have three—two and a half if you squint—days left in Indiana before I had to go back to Connecticut because the semester is about to start.

My head feels surprisingly clear, a stark contrast to the sea of emotions from the night before. I glanced over at Caitlin, who was still sprawled on her bed, with an empty beer bottle teetering on the edge of the nightstand.

After all the girls left, I couldn't find the moment to talk with Caitlin about whatever happened at the draft after-party, because everyone seemed to have different versions. Caitlin was completely wasted last night; she insisted on bringing more beer to the room so we could continue the party in bed. I obviously refused, but Caitlin still managed to bring one can that she drank before I could manage to put her into bed. Lucky for me, she was already in comfortable clothes, the ones she changed into after the game, so I just let her sleep in them. I quickly went back to the guest room to get my pajamas, through Caitlin's drunken protests, thinking that I was leaving.

When I got back to Caitlin's bed, I found her deeply asleep, so I had to wait until the next day to talk with her, leading us to this morning.

I sighed in bed and made my way to the kitchen. I needed coffee, not to wake up, but to keep focused. As I waited for the pot to brew, my mind kept replaying my interaction with Kate in this very same place. How she was so close to me at one point, and how the night could have ended up with her so far away.

Kate was mad. I might not know Kate that well, but she definitely doesn't seem like someone who is easily irritated or gets angry quickly. But last night's realizations really annoyed her. The thought that Caitlin might lie, not just to Kate, but to me as well, is terrifying. I don't want to believe it; I refuse to think that she might have done it just for fun or because she was jealous of their friends. There has to be another explanation.

Interrupting my thoughts, Caitlin stumbled into the kitchen, looking worse for wear.

“Morning,” she mumbled, rubbing her temples.

“Morning,” I replied, handing her a cup of coffee. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” Caitlin groaned. “I haven’t drunk this much since… well, since before you got here.”

I know, all we have been doing is drinking. Caitlin has never been into alcohol much; she did have a drink here and there but not as often and not as much. Since the accidental drunken scandal that Caitlin got through when we were teens—that caused several fights with her parents—she never drank that much again. But these couple of days, Caitlin has been drinking just as much and getting just as drunk, but not enough to give a fuck.

“Yeah, I noticed. You okay?” I limited myself to say, taking a sip of my coffee.

“Just hungover,” Caitlin said, waving it off. “What about you? You didn’t drink much last night.”

“No, I didn’t,” I said slowly. “I guess I wanted to keep a clear head.”

Caitlin looked at me, eyes narrowing slightly. “Everything okay?”

I hesitated. This situation has to be tread carefully.

“Actually... I was just thinking about last night. Do you remember how everyone was doing shots?” I wanted to start neutral, making sure she remembered. Caitlin nodded at my question, her expression relaxing a bit.

“Yeah, hard to forget that. I had way too many,” she chuckled.

“And you remember that Kate left early?” I asked, trying to sound casual.