Good Girl Gone Bad

28 | Get In, Loser. We're Going Shopping.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Get In, Loser. We're Going Shopping.

Listen To: Bad At Love by Halsey.

Dedicated To: Each and Every one of you still sticking here with me because if you're still here than you deserve the world and I'd gladly give you mine. 🖤🖤🖤

Forgive the cheesiness. I'm sleep-deprived. Obviously.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are two kinds of people waking up on a Sunday morning.

Number One: The outgoing type who tend to wake up the next morning nursing a killer hangover.

And Number Two: The lazy asses that spent the night binging Netflix and wake up late in the afternoon, lethargic but refreshed.

Now, assuming I was at a party last night, you'd definitely expect me to be a number one, right?

Wrong.

Infact, this Sunday morning, I was neither of the above.

Instead, my wonderful dipshit of a friend Valentino decided to wake me by calling me at ten in the morning and demanding I haul my ass to the race track for practice.

I woke up to the sun streaming through my curtains, the damn thing bright enough that the maroon curtains barely provided any hindrance.

My phone sat on my dresser and the obnoxious SpongeBob song was at it again. I really needed to change that tune. Valentino called me in class once and the laughter that ensured had me ducking for cover.

'What?' I groaned into the ghastly device, after having spent a few minutes slapping my arm around the side table blindly and knocking over half the stuff on it in search for my phone.

'Don't you show me that attitude, you little troublemaker. I want you down here in half an hour and if I don't see that pretty little ass perched on this beauty of a bike standing next to me then so help me I will make your life hell.'

'Wow,' I managed to mumble sleepily, rubbing at my eyes with my free hand as I suppressed a yawn, 'someone hasn't gotten laid in a while. What's with the hissy fit?'

'Faye!' Val barked, 'be serious. The finals are coming up in three weeks and you can't wake up in the morning. You haven't practiced in ages. At this rate, going to Vegas is a complete waste of time. What was the use of all those years spent teaching you fonkass how to ride?'

'Sheesh, chill motorbike patrol. When did you become my mom? I'll be down there soon okay? Happy? You just ruined a poor, innocent soul's hungover Sunday.'

'Innocent,' Val scoffed, and I heard the beep signaling the end of the call. Moaning in annoyance as the dull thudding in my head started to intensify, I sat up and managed to peel my eyes open after several failed attempts.

Sometimes, I regretted dedicating my weekend to racing. A girl's gotta get her beauty sleep.

Not that I'd be any less ugly when I wake up.

Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled across my bedroom blindly and almost slammed into the bathroom door, before falling into the bathroom in a heap, swearing at the light.

I took one look at myself in the mirror and let out a shriek, jumping back. You could say I was the definition of a hot mess. Without the hot.

Taking in my vulture nest hair and makeup streaked face, I groaned in annoyance and watched my face thoroughly before stripping and stepping into the shower.