Only With You

08 | jupiter

QUICK A/N: I changed the title of this book - it was formerly called CHASING CONSTELLATIONS. Sorry for the confusion! I was never crazy about the old title, and it was so hard to fit on the cover... lol.

08 | JUPITER

the fifth planet from the Sun and the largest in the Solar System.

☆

"GOD DAMN IT." I lean against the sandwich counter at Subway, my esophagus on fire from the catastrophic hangover. Acid reflux, nausea, a pounding headache—all the works. The smell of pickled vegetables and baking bread makes me want to throw up the coffee I had this morning.

"Are you okay, Aria?" my coworker asks timidly. Gina's only nineteen, and she reminds me of the typical Instagram influencer these days—a total babe online, but just like the rest of us IRL. My constant hangovers freak her out.

"I'll make it," I say, but my brain is swollen. The lights in the hospital's food court are way too bright.

"Maybe you should take a break," Gina says.

"You sure you're okay on your own?"

"Yeah, you look like you're going to throw up again."

"Good point."

I hurry to my purse in the back of the small, cramped store, and pop a Pepto Bismol tablet. It'll suppress the puke for at least a little bit. Gina's right—I can't be arranging cold cuts on bread in this state, so I head into the hospital and hope a walk will help. I've been wanting to visit Caroline (and maybe Ryan, if he's still here) all morning anyway.

It was easy to forget about Dad and Trudy last night—Luna and I went to a club, drowned ourselves in shots, and hung out with random drunk girls we'll never remember, dancing to whatever top 40s crap was on. Normally not a fan of Drake, but he sounds damn good when you're drunk. But now that the sun's up and the hangover has settled, everything reminds me of the words Dad said; how disappointed in me he is. I don't even care about Trudy anymore. It's my own fault she stole from me. But the older I get, the deeper Dad's scathing opinions cut.

I'm a loser. Sure. Whatever. Moving on.

To distract myself further, I head straight for the emergency ward. I pass a display of some of the hospital's founders—photos as old as the early 1900s—and catch my reflection in the glass. Hairnet, check. Dorky visor, check. But I can't be assed trying to hide the truth.

Just as I'm crossing through the hall that'll bridge to the ER, a tall dude in my peripherals catches my eye from down another hall, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. It's Ryan, but he's nowhere near his room from yesterday. His back is facing me as he walks with a doctor who's probably in her thirties. Mature and kept together, but pretty. For a second, I wonder if they know each other—you know, personally—only because I don't get why Ryan's over here and not in the emergency ward. But the doctor's holding a clipboard, and they stop in front of a room together. Formally, she opens the door for Ryan and allows him to pass.

So, he's here on Official Business. Just as I'm getting the sense I shouldn't be lurking, unintentionally stalking this guy, my eyes flick to the colour-coded sign beside the hall. Before I can finish reading it—hema-somethingorother?—Caroline's voice sounds from down the hall.

"Aria! What're you doing over here?" She storms up to me in her usual scrubs.

"Jeez, am I in trouble?"