Good Girl Gone Bad

36 | Ah Gravity, Thou Art A Heartless Bitch.

Road Trip:
Verb.
Plural: Road trips.

Long car rides with friends (Always idiotic), family(You want to murder) or pets (You want to marry), etc. Generally entails excessive heat, and/or air conditioning, rest stops, pee breaks, speeding, sleeping, and lots of cities. Red bull is acceptable.

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It didn't take me long to make my decision.

In fact, it didn't take me any time at all.

By the time I got home that night and was climbing back through my window, I was certain a road trip was exactly what I was going to do.

Everest would set off for Vegas himself in around four hours. I'd said goodbye to him, a sense of loneliness already settling. He'd seen my fallen and face and grinned, holding up a tattooed hand with a small flower in his grip that he'd gotten from God knows where and gently pushing it into my hair.

'You'll be in Vegas by the time this dies,' he'd promised with a laugh. And with a last cheeky wink in my direction, he'd left me behind in a cloud of dust.

I pulled out that very flower, as my feet landed on my bedroom floor softly, and placed it on my side table with a sigh, wondering about his other piece of advice.

Ryan.

I'd been thinking about that too. Probably more than the road trip. And honestly, Everest's words seemed to make sense. Not that anything else had in the last two days.

So I decided I might as well talk to him. Maybe even go over today and - God knows what. But just talk. However hard it may be.

Blinking my weary eyes, I pulled my curtains shut as the sun started to rise and fell onto my bed with a tired sigh.

It felt like seconds after my eyes had drifted shut that I heard someone next to me.

'You look like the dead. Wake up Sleeping Dead.'

I groaned, rolling over and pulling my blanket tighter around me, waving Asher away with one hand as best as I could.

'You're late for school Faye. Like, 'I didn't get to wash my face' kind of late.'

At that my eyes tried to fly open, they really did. But it didn't work in the least. That was, until reason came to mind.

'It's Saturday, you twat. Let me sleep.'

Asher sighed and the bed dipped as he fell onto it, laying down on me until I could barely breathe.

'Come on, I need to show you - wait, why the hell are you wearing a jacket and jeans in bed?'

This time I blinked and came to life with a groan, rolling over to glare at Asher as well as I could through slitted eyes. 'Experiment,' I mumbled out the lie, yawning widly, 'now bug off.'

He shot me a cheeky grin and snuggled in closer, digging under the blanket and throwing an arm and leg over me. I groaned I'm annoyance and tried to push him off but he barely moved and the result was basically an even more exhausted me.

'Asher, let me sleep,' I whined, pouting at him pleadingly. He seemed to think about it, forehead crinkling, before finally making up his mind and shrugging.

'Fine,' he sighed, 'one more hour. And then we have to get up.'

But unfortunately for him, buried under mounds of soft blankets in a relatively comfortable environment usually always leads to sleep.