Don't Look At Me With Those Judgy Little Eyes (Currently under revision)

Chapter 3- A Night in Italy

(***Damon Salvatore (from The Vampire Diaries; Belongs to L.J. Smith) and Aria Montgomery (from Pretty Little Liars; Belongs to Sara Sheperd). I own no characters; only the story and plot line I put together. All characters belong to their rightful owners. This is a nonprofit story. All rights reserved***)

Chapter 3

A Night in Italy- the Food is Italian, the Cars are Italian, and so are The Boys.

　

I awoke in my bed, remembering nothing from what had happened last night. I looked around my room. The curtains were closed, so my room was very dark and shadowy. I felt my head, the palms of my hands were sweaty and so was my hair. I opened my eyes wider and looked at the clock. It was noon. I got out of bed very slowly, gravity making my head spin. "My head," I groaned and held it, feeling nauseous. Speaking of vomit...that must be this horrible taste on my tongue. "Gross." I pinched my face, ready to gag. I walked to the bathroom, flipping on the light switch. I was shocked with the sight. I had puffy red eyes, purple bags and bedraggled hair. I took a Tylenol and brushed my teeth for almost ten minutes. After showering and changing into presentable clothes, I walked downstairs, finding the house empty; nothing unusual.

I walked downstairs and put together my breakfast: a bowl of cereal. As I ate my cereal, I typed up another draft, feeling the need to vent, even if my once lover never reads it.

Dear Ezra,

I have the worst hangover ever! I know, curse myself for drinking, but it was necessary. I needed some fun, but as it turns out, it was boring. I should have realized that sooner…but whatever. I drank, watched my friend pass out, and woke up with massive headaches and vomit breath. Gross, I know. The strangest thing, though, is I vaguely remember what happened last night. I remember talking with Elena, many drinks, and then- blank. I don’t remember how I got home. This is just like that Hangover movie. Oh well.

I miss you...a lot. A simple phone call would make the world stop, Ezra. No, a simple text message would make the world stop. I love you.

Love, Aria

P.S. I think I am sober enough to drive.

I closed the laptop and checked the clock. I better call Elena and apologize. She only drank, because I pretty much made her. I’m being a crappy friend already. I sighed and fell onto the couch, staring up at the chandelier my mom had constructed. It was a chandelier made of broken shards of glass from a mirror. At least it wasn’t like that Christmas tree last year. The theme was Coke. Literally all the ornaments were coke cans my mom found on roads and trash bins.

I heard the dial tone for a few seconds when she answered. "Listen, Elena," I began, but she interrupted. "Aria, where did you go last night? I woke up this morning in my bed! Did ...did YOU do that?" she asked.

Oh, crud. "Uh, no, did you just wake up?" I asked her. "Yeah, this is weird.” She said. “Elena, I think Stefan took you home.” I said suddenly. “Hopefully. Uh, lemme call Stefan. I will see you later at my dinner. Bye." she said in a hurry. "Bye." I said, although the line went dead already. I sat down alone in my living room. I wonder who brought me home. I mean I only know Matt, Elena and Stefan. One of the three were passed out…so what gives?

It was just all so strange; my fault, though. I should have never decided to drink like that. I’m so stupid! I groaned and rolled my eyes, grabbing my coat as I walked outside of the house. I jumped at the sound of the screeching of a crow.

I dropped the keys to the house on the porch, placing a hand on my chest; my heart thrumming fast against it. The crow was on the porch railing, staring at me with its beady eyes. I breathed in, suddenly, and grabbed the keys, the crow watching my every move. I walked past the crow, watching the crow’s every movement. I scurried away, fearing that the crow might just swoop my petite body up into the air.