Not His Girl

The Aftermath of Being a Total Drunken Idiot

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Excuse the mistakes

Dedicated to Sidthesloth1 who made the banner on the side

READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE

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I woke up feeling like death.

From the moment my eyes opened, I felt ready to die. My head was pounding, and despite the fact that I was barely awake, the sunlight pouring through my window was giving me sensory overload. My stomach was doing somersaults, and my mouth was dry and rough. As I'd said before, I was feeling like death.

"God, kill me now," I muttered, and I rolled onto my back and reluctantly poked my head out from under my comforter. I'd been awake for the past half hour, and I had maybe moved an inch from the position I'd woken up in. At the moment, moving seemed relatively unnecessary. Besides, I was a tad preoccupied.

Last night was a complete blur in my memory. I was remembering bits and pieces, like Olive and Lillian, and my being an idiot and getting pretty much shit-faced. Also, my breath smelled rank, so I was pretty sure I'd vomited at least once. Everything else was uncomfortably hazy, and at this point, I was hoping that I didn't have any kind of heavy petting with someone.

Slowly, I glanced at the clock on my bedside table, and I squinted at the neon green numbers. It was about ten-thirty in the morning, and as comfortable as my bed was, I pushed off my blankets. I was someone who couldn't sleep in past a certain point without feeling guilty and unproductive. It was a curse that was annoying as hell, especially in situations like this.

Not that I was horribly hung over often.

I shook my hair out of my face as I propped myself up on my elbows, and I instantly regretted the jarring actions as my mind swam. After a couple moments, everything started to go back to normal, and I looked down at myself to see I was still clad in my outfit for the party. I wiggled my toes to check and see if my shoes were on, but they weren't. I frowned and tried to figure out why I hadn't attempted to change out of my clothes, but had made the effort to take off my shoes.

That's when my memories hit me.

"Oh fuck," I breathed, and my eyes widened. Gingerly but quickly, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bed. My hands grasped each other in my lap, and I winced as I replayed the events of last night in my mind.

I remembered Duke finding me slouched in the bathroom, Duke bringing me upstairs, Duke helping me into bed, Duke taking off my shoes, me trying to kiss Duke, and me admitting I had a crush on Duke... to his face. Hot damn; drunk me needed to stop making appearances around Duke because I seemed to keep screwing myself over.

"Jesus Harper, learns some damn self-control," I muttered to myself.

I boosted myself up off of my bed, and after a woozy moment, I crossed my room to my dresser. I opened the drawers and grabbed the comfiest clothes that I could find without having to fully bend over. My current objective, which I needed to focus on before worrying about Duke, was to change out of my party clothes and clean myself up.

Slowly, I pulled off my clothes from last night, and I stepped into my favorite pair of black sweatpants. I tugged on a white tank top, and I padded into the bathroom. I squirted a huge glob of toothpaste onto my toothbrush and scrubbed my teeth until they hurt. Then, I threw my hair up in a bun without brushing it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the door that joined the bathroom to Duke's bedroom. I bit my lip, and after a moment's hesitation, I took a step and gripped the door knob. I pulled the door open only to find Duke's room empty.