Enough | ✔️

+ 39 +

"Quorra,"

I switch sides, hugging my pillow closer to my head and scrunching up my nose at the disturbance.

"Quorra."

I roll over onto my face, welcoming the warmth of my duvet and pulling it tighter across my body.

Finding solace in the silence as the noise disappears, I slip away once again into a warm cocoon of sleep. A drowsy sensation washes over me and smooths over the creases in my forehead as I slip further and further into the velvety, comforting depths of-

"Quorra," a heavy weight rests on my shoulder.

With a groan, I blindly reach out a hand to stop the source of the voice. It collides with something hard.

"Ow," I mumble.

"That was my collarbone. Quorra, wake up, or we'll miss the coach," the voice I now identify as Slater says, patience withering away like an unwatered flower.

I don't reply, dreading the early start to the morning as I remember that the lake trip is today. Lara successfully coerced my parents into paying for it a week ago, and since then all I've been doing is deliberating whether I even want to go anymore. The whole Martha-May situation is definitely overshadowing my excitement.

"I don't want to go anymore," I decide, my words dampened by the pillow flattened against my face and blocking out any streams of yellow light.

Slater sighs, the sound audible even through all the duvet bundled up around me. His hand now strokes a rhythmic pattern down my back, trying to convince me to get up. I focus on the pleasant sensation, the warmth from his hand seeping in past the covers.

"You've already paid and there are no refunds. Come on, Quorra. It's already six and the coach leaves at 7," he persuades, the bed dipping down as he sits down next to me.

I groan groggily, knowing that there's no way out of this. Despite that, six is still an ungodly hour to be awake. A silence settles between us for a moment, but I shake off the strong desire to fall asleep again and turn over onto my back, ungracefully pushing the tangled hair out of my face and rubbing my eyes.

Slater chuckles, satisfied with his victory as he claps his hand against my leg and gets up, "Okay, get ready and come downstairs to the lobby. I'm going to go down there now and sort out some paperwork. Can I trust that you'll be down there before seven?"

I barely process his words, still drunk with bleariness.

"Yeah," I sigh, sitting up and grabbing the hairband around my wrist to tie my unruly hair back.

I spend the next half an hour last-minute packing, regretting my decision to postpone it with each article of clothing that I haphazardly fold and throw into a bag that I'm only half-sure is mine. Zipping it up and tossing it in the general direction of the door, I stumble into the bathroom and get myself ready for a definitely-eventful and mentally-draining day of... god, I don't want to say it...

Physical activity.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

"You are literally the biggest drama queen I know," Hannah sighs, sitting elegantly as I drop into my seat and proceed to get in a heated argument with my seat belt.

The coach engine starts with a loud splutter as we start towards our destination.

"And you've been using the word 'literally' a lot lately," I insult bitterly, trying to bring the seat belt around to the other side of my neck, "And it's not my fault that the coach almost left without me. I was out my room at 7, as I should've been.