I woke up feeling disgusting and with a motherfucker of a hangover.
Cole and Noah, who were twins, were like brothers to me and I trusted them with my life, but those two should never be let near alcohol ever again. Not if I were with them anyways.
I sat up on my king size bed. My head was pounding and a wave of nausea hit me for a moment, only dial back down to a dull, steady churning short after.
Groaning, I stood up and went to my dresser to put on a pair of pants, and cringed at my reflection in the oversize mirror above it: I looked like shit.
Coffee.
The power of this single thought made me run down the carpeted stairs.
As I reached the living room, I was met with the aftermath of our night: scattered, crumpled up beer cans and a couple of empty whisky bottles littered the floor. It looked more like a frat house common room than a respectable, adult businessman sitting room.
It was incredible how three, twenty-three year old men were capable of wrecking such havoc in just one night of drinking.
"We're two-hundred pound wolves," my friends said. "We can tolerate alcohol like no other."
Bullshit: my headache said otherwise.
I walked to the kitchen where Cole and Noah were sitting at the long, tall middle table that was meant to be an island. They were holding their heads in their hands, looking the way I felt.
Their mom had had enough of them from day 1 and she finally kicked them to the curb, saying it was about time for them to move out of the family home.
Their house was a work in progress, so they kindly invited themselves over to mine while they waited for it to be done.
None of us bothered with hellos, fearing any noise volume, however small. I reached for the coffee pot, expecting it full of dark, bitter bliss.
When I found it empty I was not pleased.
"Couldn't you have made coffee?" I roared, to hell with the hangover headache. They stay at my house all the time, convince me to drink oceans of alcohol and not even have the decency to make a fresh pot of coffee.
"There's none," one of the twins replied, but I was too grumpy to pay attention.
"Really, you just need to push a button," I insisted.
"Yo dickhead, you're out of coffee," Cole said.
I let that statement sink in. Fear, cold sweats, feeling of doom all washed over me in rapid succession.
No coffee equals no life.
"Clean this mess, I'm going out" I barked, already heading to the door.
"What about the meeting?" Noah prompted.
"It's Saturday, what meeting?" I replied, trying to sort my thoughts through the haziness in my mind.
"The meeting with your father," Cole says.
"Fuck," I yell, slamming the door behind me.
That's why I got in a bad mood that day.
YOU ARE READING
Fated - An Ordinary Story of Extraordinary Love
Hombres LoboEmerson was no ordinary girl. Sure, she was leading a normal, small town life, working in a normal, small town coffee shop, with a small, normal circle of friends. She liked her life that way - or so she thought. In a normal day, like every other...
