BFF (A Josh Hutcherson Fanfiction)

2 - The First Note

I wake up to a jackhammer doing construction outside. It’s a constant thumping against the pavement of the road directly outside my window. They’re probably fixing a pot hole or something. Couldn’t it have waited just an hour or two longer?

Then I remember the road is far enough away that I wouldn’t hear the jackhammer so loudly if it were fixing a pothole. There isn’t even a road outside my window. There’s nothing but trees and other nature things. Nope, that pounding is definitely not a jackhammer. It’s my head.

I’m normally good about drinking, considering my family history. I hardly ever get drunk, and I definitely never get drunk enough to black out. Last night I wasn’t myself though, I was Josh’s cool, cultured, beautiful friend from home. Or at least that’s how I vaguely remember introducing myself after my first couple of drinks at the bar we went to.

The night started innocently enough, that much I remember clearly. We went out to dinner with Josh’s famous friends as he had planned. Everyone seemed very nice and wholesome, like Josh. They graciously invited me into their conversations even though I hardly had anything to add since they mostly talked about famous people problems. All of his friends made me feel comfortable and welcome and treated me like I was just as famous and important as they are.

When they decided to hit up a bar that is notorious for a) its famous clientele and b) its knack for serving alcohol to underage guests (which a surprising amount of Josh’s friends are), they invited me without hesitation. Part of this was probably because they wanted Josh to come and Josh was my ride (well, his limo driver was my ride), but I decided to accept the pity invitation and have a good time. Josh said I should make friends in California, and who better to get in with than the people who practically rule this city?

The trip to the bar is where things get a little fuzzy.

I swear my plan was to have just one drink. But one of Josh’s friends – I think it was Katniss – decided to order a round of shots, and I couldn’t say no to that, right? Then another one of his friends – a male this time – offered to buy me something fruity when the vodka tonic I didn’t remember ordering ran low. When a good looking guy offers you a drink, you can’t say no. Right?

Well, that’s what my brain was saying last night at least. I seemed to have forgotten how to say no at some point between the shots and the drink with the pretty umbrella that tasted like fruit punch and coconut rum. That’s the last thing I remember drinking, but the man playing my brain like a bass drum is telling me that even though it’s the last thing I remember drinking, it definitely wasn’t the last thing I drank. Way to get yourself into a shitty mess your first night in California, Jolene. This place is supposed to be totally different. You’re supposed to be totally different.

At least I ended up alone in my bed. Things couldn’t have gotten too bad if I’m here. Right?

Just as I’m thinking that maybe if I close my eyes this nightmare and my thoughts of turning out the way my family expected me to turn out will vanish and I’ll wake up in a few hours without a headache knowing exactly what I did last night and it will involve me being perfectly sober the entire time, there’s a loud crash in the kitchen. My head rebels against the noise by pounding even louder. Andre had to be the cause of the sound, because Josh yells, “fuck you,” right after it happens. I’m glad he said it so I didn’t have to. Andre already doesn’t like me.

The clock on the bedside table reads one pm. I’m pretty sure we didn’t get in until close to five am, which means I should be allowed to sleep until at least five pm before I’m expected to perform basic human functions, like opening my eyes or walking. I could get away with that mentality when I lived alone, on the rare occasions that I drowned my sorrows in alcohol. Now, I have a roommate who doesn’t like me and a roommate who may or may not be in a gay relationship with the aforementioned roommate who doesn’t like me. There’s nothing I can do but get out of bed and show my face to the masses.