Smash!

•T W E N T Y F I V E•

Long chapter, but I dare you to read it all in one seating!
Riley's POV

"Up and at 'em!" The warmth of the sheets is pulled away from me, allowing blinding light to stab at my tired brown eyes.

"Fuck off..." I let out a rumble from deep in my throat, and squeeze my eyes tightly shut against the sudden sunlight. I grab blindly for a pillow to cover my head, but come up empty handed. Rising up on my elbows, I look around through sleep lidded eyes, realizing that I fell asleep at the foot of the bed. I must have came in and dropped, because my clothes from last night are sticking to my skin.

"It's errand day." Jamie states, folding up dirty sheets and pillows cases into a laundry sack. Her long red hair is up and away from her freckled face, tied up high on her head. Cozy in a worn red cotton pull over, with sleeves so long they bunch up at her hands. Jamie empties out the nearby hamper, just watching her tires me out. A bear like groan is my reply as I sink back into the bed.

"What time is it?"

"Eight in the morning." Jamie answers my barely coherent mutterings.

I'm too hungover for this.

"Are you mad about last night?" Is she deliberately not letting me sleep in, to force me to do bitch work all day? Yes, I do live here, so of course I have to contribute and clean after myself, but can't all this wait? Just by a few hours? Must it exactly right this moment? And why so much chores at once?

"I'm not mad." With a frown, Jamie suddenly struggles to fold the sheets into precise squares. "Just annoyed that you drunkenly barged in when I was sleeping. Woke me up, then wouldn't let me fall back asleep. You kept asking for my hand in marriage or something. Then I narrowly missed being crushed to death when you practically collapsed onto the bed." I don't even have a chance to be embarrassed when Jamie's frustrated tone changes to concern.

"Are you too hung over from last night?" She pauses over the hamper to ask, the look on her freckled face looking disappointed.

Yes, I am. All night long I downed shot after shot to keep up with Nate. I vomited my guts out. I danced till my limbs went numb. I'm fucking exhausted. Regardless, I pick myself up off the mattress. My body immediately wants sink back down, joints protesting and stomach threatening to give. I know I'm too slow getting up, too delayed. The room is titling on its side, gravity is doubles down on me, and all I hear in one ear is the sound of the my throbbing headache.

"Not too much." I lie, forcing myself up. My headache worsens two times over as I straighten up. My stomach churning from my liquid diet. Regret over why did I drink so damn much last night settles in, worsening the nausea. Jamie inspects me, her green eyes searching for a reason to sit me down, and baby me.

"You sure you're up to this?" Answering Jamie's question with a slow nod, I try to find a clean shirt, but Jamie gathers them all up.

"First, I'm putting a few loads to wash." Jamie starts, even pulling off the curtains hovering over the bare mattress, not at all put off by my dumbfounded face. You have to wash curtains too? How can they get dirty if they just hang there?

"While we wait for the loads, we'll scrub the bathroom, mop the floors, dust, and clean all the windows." Jamie counts off her fingers, ignoring each roll of my eyes at every listed task. Hungover, and put to work, it feels like we never celebrated my birthday at all. The hangover is proof it happened just last night, but today is already so awful it might as well have never happened.

"And I definitely want to clean your car out." Jamie adds, hurriedly walking out of the apartment to do laundry in the building's laundry room. At her words, my stomach threatens to puke out all of last night's contents. A panicked, cold sweat, that stinks of booze breaks out over my body. I sell drugs out of my car. Speed, crack, you name it, it's under my seats, stuffed at the back of my glove compartment, hidden in my trunk...