The Fight

Irish loser man

The next morning was rough.

I wake up to a shooting pain in my stomach and when I sit up in bed, I let out an agonizing scream. It feels like dozens of sharp and pointy knives thought a nice place to live would be my abdomen and now they're fighting with each other. The sound of footsteps echo through the flat and seconds later, my door swings open showing a panicked Macy.

"Ah ah ah! Lay back down right now! You're not getting out of bed today," Macy says, holding a breakfast tray with a stack of pancakes, orange juice and some pain killers.

Macy's my best mate as we say here. I don't mean to brag or anything, but Macy's gorgeous. She stands at a tall 5'6 with long brown hair, and she's got these electric green eyes that somehow always convince me to watch her favorite movie after she pulls her "puppy dog face" on me. She's quite the catch if you ask me.

We've been close since grade school. She and I had the same classes in year seven and we clicked. It was, and still is, Macy and Jessalyn against the world. We go to Uni together and freshmen year we roomed together, but then I got an apartment and from time to time she crashes here when she's not flying around the world showing her fashion designs to famous fashion designers.

Did I mention that she interns for some of the top designers in the world? She's been working with Burberry, Louis Vuitton, and her most recent internship was with Dior this past weekend in Ireland. Yeah, my best friends pretty cool.

"Hey, quick question. Is Nicholas here?" I ask, remembering that he crashed on my couch last night.

Macy cocks an eye brow and shakes her head.

"Nope, no sign of him here. Why?"

I guess he must have left earlier. I make a mental note to call him later and see how he's doing.

"He said he may stop by later, wasn't sure if he was here," I say, lying through my teeth.

Macy shrugs and sets the tray of food down next to my night stand and sits on my bed. She commands me to open my mouth and I do as she says. She puts the two painkillers on my tongue and hands me my juice so I can wash them down.

I laugh and then groan from the pain that erupts in my stomach.

"Thank you, Mac. I really appreciate it, ouch," I say, moving my back up against the headboard.

"Of course, Jess," she says, climbing into bed with me. She shimmies under the covers and pulls the duvet up to her chin, "ah, toasty."

"Stop it, you're going to make me laugh and my stomach kills when I laugh," I complain, shoving her arm playfully.

"Yeah, that blow to the stomach you got last night looked like it could've caused internal bleeding," she snorts. "It didn't, right?"

I send her dagger eyes and she puts her hands up in mock surrender.

"What?! I didn't know! I was watching the fight on my flight back from Ireland," she says, stressing her last word.

"Why do you say Ireland like it's something import-," and then it hits me, "your fashion show! How did it go! I totally blanked, oh my god, was it incredible?"

Macy turns her body towards me and nods eagerly.

"It went lovely! Thank you for asking, even though I had to drop a hint."

I roll my eyes and slowly adjust my body towards her like she did.

"Just tell me everything, please. I'm dying to know."