Stuck On The Puzzle

The Hangover - Chapter 1

My alarm goes off. That same beeping noise every day that will ring through my head until I find the motivation to actually move my arm from my comfy position in bed and hit the snooze button. I swear every day the hit gets more harder and powerful. I squint looking towards the bastard alarm clock.
'7:30 - Sunday, 26th October'
I groan and roll back over rubbing my eyes trying to force my eyes to wake up. I opened them again and blinked, adjusting my vision for a split second. Confused as to why my alarm went off, I picked up my phone from the other bedside table.
'7:31 - Sunday, 26th October'
It was Sunday. I had no work or uni. "Thank fuck." I muttered as my phone slipped out of my hand onto the bed and I fell back to sleep again. Unfortunately once I wake up I can never fall back to sleep properly. It's always been like that and it's pissed me off especially on days like these when I wake up early and then remember I don't have to do anything. Except that was a lie - I had coursework to do - but that wasn't exactly on the top of my list of things to do today, especially with the way I was feeling from last night. I sat up pulling my pony tail tighter and pulling my nightie down again. I had only just come to the realisation of my room smelling of cigarettes and alcohol. It lingered within my bed sheets and body.

As I trudged over to the full length mirror I was struck by the sight of death. Black panda marks lurked under my eyes and my foundation and bronzer was patchy. "Gross." I mumbled kind of laughing almost at the state I was in. Or should I say ended up in.

I'd been in New York for two years now at university. Luckily my Mum and Dad both had decent jobs, and I started off working and doing errands at the age of 13 to earn some cash. I'd saved up for uni and a decent sized apartment here for ages, willing to fulfil my dream of a professional photographer. There was something about New York. The way the people were and the vibes and buzz of the busy city. I only lived about a 10 minutes car drive away, or 7 minutes by subway which is how I usually get to work and uni.

As I stepped in the shower I let the warm water run over my face and I tried to recall some of the events from last night. Nope, nothing. I rarely did these 'full clean sessions' where you'd lather your legs full of shaving cream and shave every last hair. My legs are slightly longer than usual, so it takes ages to shave them top to bottom, especially with a wide surface area I call my thighs. It's worth it in the end, though.

I step out of the shower, soaked through to the bone with droplets of water rolling down my forehead. I look towards the mirror and realise I completely forgot to put on the extractor fan so the mirror didn't steam up. But I did, as usual. I turn it on rolling my eyes and open the door making my way to my wardrobe in my towel and turban. My actual bedroom was small, but bearable. There was a small balcony outside it which I'd usually sit and do my coursework or have a smoke or people watch. Both next doors were up for rent so I didn't have any noisy neighbours. I have had a few parties in my apartment before, and been reported to the main building owner that I was disturbing people from getting to sleep. I don't blame them, me and my mates are loud and annoying as anything when we're pissed. Well, I call them 'mates' but they're really just people who keep me company from time to time, or go out and have a good time not remembering what the fuck happened (eg last night). No one actually knew me well, I kept myself to myself most of the time which I prefer anyway.

I heard a violent knock at my door. I'd cleared last nights makeup off my face and towel dried my hair but I was still in a towel. "Fuck fuck fuck." I muttered as I quickly ran around my room trying to find some pants and a bra. The knock got louder and I heard a muffled shout. "Two seconds!" I shouted. "Open up Nat." He shouted back. He? Who could it be. I decided to brave the huge window that overlooked the whole of the city so that who ever was in the building opposite mine could look in and see me standing there stark naked if they got lucky. Quickly making my way over to the door I looked though the peep hole. A feel of relief washed over me. I opened the door slowly letting Matt in. I stood half behind the door and half in sight just so that if anyone did happen to stroll past I wasn't there for them to see me chilling in a towel. He looks at me frowning and then suddenly a smirk spreads across his face. He shakes his head closing the door. Matt has been my best friend for a good 10 years, we're close as anything and basically inseparable. He was a tall, muddy blonde haired boy with an alternative and bright piercing blue eyes. Bit of a ladies man at times but was shy and well reserved too. "Cheeky." He says winking. I walked back to my bedroom shaking my head and pulling the door a-jar. I peep through the crack and he slumps down on my sofa switching on the TV. "Why are you here then?" I ask as I wonder over to my drawers. "Just thought I'd see how things were, haven't seen you for a couple of days." I slip on some knickers and a bra and then throw on my 'The Kooks' band tshirt and some light blue mom jeans and a thick black buckled belt. "Smells of cigarettes and alcohol Nat. You been parting again?" He shouts. "Last night, yeah." "Have fun?" Well, to be truthful I can't remember anything so how can I say I had fun. "Yeah, it were alright." I say.

After applying some makeup and making small talk to Matt I finally appear and he's helping himself in my kitchen area to some snacks. I tut at him and he chuckles, "You managed to find some clothes then." He says. "You managed to find my food then." I reply looking back at him proud of my come back. He punches me in the arm playfully as I fill up the kettle. I turn on my Bluetooth speaker and put some Oasis on. "Nice choice." He says putting down the packet of crisps on the table and slinging his leather jacket towards me. I catch it luckily, my reflexes aren't usually very good but that was a one off. I make a coffee and join him.

After an hour or so of singing along to some Oasis and chatting about things he gets up to go to the loo. I check my phone.

Jasmine😋 [1]

Hey Nat! Fancy going out for a coffee this afternoon? Xx

I reply and decide to meet her at 3. She replies within a minute,

Jasmine😋 [1]

Sure. I heard there's this new place that opened up about a week ago, Café Grumpy. Sounds pretty cool. I'll pop round yours first, not sure you know where it is xx

I send a thumps up emoji and put my phone back down. Matt comes back into the main living area on his phone. He flops back down onto the sofa. "Matthew!" I say annoyed at how he lumps down damaging it more every time. He laughs and continues to eat and sits on his phone. I shake my head. "Sorry babe." "Don't even start." I snap back. He puts his phone down and leans over to me poking my cheek bone, "Eh lighten up!" He says. "How can you expect to lighten up Matt you just came over and sat down eating my snacks." I say. He sits cross legged facing me on the sofa. "That's what best friends do." He says smiling. I look his way and he's grinning. I ruffle his hair and grab the bag of crisps. His hair was a soft messy mop on his head, shaved at the sides and long on top. He had an edgy look about him, slightly misleading. He looks like the type you'd expect to be in a indie sort of band but he doesn't really have any friends except me. We moved here together and spent our lives back in Sheffield playing guitar together and doing covers and smoking occasionally. He had one lip piercing on the left side and small ear stretchers. I only just analysed his outfit, he looked somewhat stylish today rather than wearing some old tatty jeans and his leather jacket. He actually made an effort. He was wearing his tight black jeans, a black and white checkered shirt and his Doc Martens. "You actually bothered to make your outfit half decent today?" I say. He glares at me, "What's that supposed to mean." I chuckle and he looks offended. "Are you saying my style isn't good enough?" He says. I shake my head, "No you just sometimes look like you've come from the backstreets of London." I say. He raises his eyebrows, "Speak for yourself." My mouth drops slightly and he laughs chucking a pillow at me.