𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍•ᵉ ʲᵃᵉᵍᵉʳ

10

𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟶𝚝𝚑

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐍, 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓. As I peel my eyes open, the sunlight streaming through my curtains feels way too aggressive for my current state. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I groan, pushing myself up to sit against the headboard.

The memories of last night flood back, each one sharper than the last. The beer pong game, the ridiculous sidequests with Leno, and the random kiss with some guy who reaked of Smirnoff, the insane truth or dare game. I can't help but cringe at how messy everything turned out. Then there was the embarrassing moment when Sasha just disappeared, leaving me stranded without a ride.

"Great," I mutter to myself, rubbing my temples in an attempt to soothe the headache. "What a glamorous night that was." I remember having to call my cousin at 3 a.m. to come pick me up while I stood outside in the cold, waiting, praying Sasha would suddenly remember me and appear. Spoiler alert: she didn't.

With a sigh, I flop back onto my pillows, staring up at the ceiling. I really should text Leno, maybe get his number from someone , but now that seems impossible because he mentioned he went to school somewhere west of Shiganshina.

I groan again, thinking about how I let the night slip through my fingers. I glance at my phone, half-expecting a text from Sasha explaining where the hell she went. But nothing. Just a couple of random memes from group chats and an unhelpful notification from a social media app about last night's party.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cold floor against my feet. The plan for today is clearly to recover from whatever the hell I just put my body through. Maybe binge-watch some trashy reality show or drown my sorrows in junk food. "Yeah, that sounds perfect," I say to myself, pushing up from the bed.

As I shuffle toward the kitchen, I can't help but think about the awkward interactions from the night before, especially with Eren and Historia. I shake my head, trying to forget it all. "Just another day in paradise," I mumble sarcastically. Time to figure out how to make the most of a hangover.

I shuffled my way to the pantry, rummaging through the shelves for my designated hangover snacks. After a few moments of digging, I triumphantly pulled out a bag of stale chips and a half-eaten granola bar. I chuckled, my voice raspy and barely recognizable, the remnants of last night still echoing in my head. "This is the life of a broke, nineteen-year-old girl with a low alcohol tolerance," I mumbled to myself, shaking my head in disbelief.

The absurdity of it all hit me again, and I let out a small laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. Who knew surviving a chaotic night could leave you feeling so empty and full at the same time? I plopped down on the couch, snacks in hand, ready to embrace the delightful chaos that was my life, at least until I had to confront the consequences of my actions later.

I turned on Jersey Shore and let the chaos of their lives drown out the throbbing in my head, tuning in for several hours as I munched mindlessly on everything in my kitchen.

I downed so much Tylenol that I was pretty sure I could have opened my own pharmacy, and I had a heating pad pressed against the back of my skull, desperate for some relief from the relentless pain.