comfort {complete}

20

By Monday morning, I'm not hungover anymore and my mother has stopped glaring at me. She can't believe I would be so careless and unmindful of my health like that, but I can, so I've been tuning her out, mostly. If she won't listen to my apologies, I'll stop saying them.

"Wow, you look terrible," Becca comments, running her eyes over my leggings and innumerable-sizes-too-big-for-me t-shirt. "Honey, wear some makeup."

"Honey, no," I reply, heaving my bag over my shoulder and heading for Lois's car. "Oh my God, who is that?"

There's a boy in my usual spot in the front seat, and he's grinning at me in a way that makes me want to curl up in my bed and cry. Lois slaps him on the arm and gives me apologetic, please-don't-freak-out-on-me eyes that make me want to curl up in my bed and cry just a little bit less.

"Okay, this is Daniel, he's my cousin, he won't touch you, I promise," she blurts, waving her hands to emphasize her point.

"Ugh, fine." I trudge to the backseat and fold my arms over my chest. "This sucks. Drive."

"I'm sorry," she says again, but I'm not really listening.

a/n: i'm so tired and it's like 9. my life.