Fourteen Days

Regret

Day 6

I've stared at the wall for over an hour now.

My head is killing me, but it's not only from the booze. It's because I remember everything that happened last night. I remember every dumb thing I did and wasn't able to stop myself from doing them. I kissed Lance. After he kissed me! Lance kissed me. My cheeks burn and I huff. It shouldn't have happened. The entire night just keeps replaying in my head. I shouldn't have drank, I knew I wouldn't be able to control myself and I fucked up.

I was such a flirt, but he flirted back. He flirted back. I can't, I can't like Lance. I can't like... I can't like boys. Especially a boy named Lance. I've dated girls before and I really liked them. But Lance has dated girls and he likes boys too. I just can't like boys, I was okay with thinking they're appealing to look at but now there are emotions.

Lance shifts, moaning quietly in his sleep. I sigh and press my forehead to his chest again, when will he wake up. Lance, I think in a whisper. Can you change the volume of your thoughts? He smiles, hugging me slightly. Are you awake? He doesn't move again. Just sleeps. I roll my eyes and pull the blanket up.

What if Lance likes me?

Stop, I need to stop. Even if he did, I can't like him. I can't. We've only been alone for 6 days, this isn't right. We're supposed to hate each other. That's just how it's supposed to be. I can't let Lance like me. If Lance likes me, I'll like him, and then he won't and I'll be hurt. If the only way to keep Lance from liking me is by hating him, so be it. I just need to push myself away from him, we're getting too close. He knows too much about me. Way too much. God I regret last night.

"G'morning," he mumbled. I raised my head, he smiled, squinting tiredly. I stretch and he lets go of me so he could stretch. "My head hurts," he groans and rubs his temples. "Mine too," I complain, arching my back off of the bed and yawning. I sit up, "I wouldn't sit up if I were you." He said, chuckling. I raise a brow, "Why not?" My stomach flipped suddenly and I lay back down, spins.

"Do you think you're going to throw up?" He asks, grabbing my water cup off of his side table. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was. It really helped my headache. He sipped his water and sat it down.

"Not until you asked." I mumble into the mattress once I'm done with my drink. He takes the glass and laughs, "Well then let's get to the bathroom." He said and sat up. "How come it doesn't bother you?" I scoff. He chuckled, "Because I can hold my alcohol. You've never been drunk before, you always throw up after your first time getting drunk." I hiccuped and slapped a hand over my mouth. I groaned quietly and he laughed. "It's not funny," I whine and I sit up, feeling the room spin. Lance gets off the bed and waits for me to stand. I whine again and stand. He grabs my hand but I quickly pull it away. He doesn't seem to question it.

"You want me to hold your hair back?" Lance asks, sitting on the floor beside me. I shake my head, laying on the floor in front of the toilet. "This sucks," I whine and he laughs, "Yeah, but when you throw up it will feel a lot better. So sit up and let it out." He pat my back and I groaned. I hate throwing up, despise it. I'd rather stay sick for a week than throw up once. Which I've done.

"If you throw up we can get some medicine I stole from Coran, he said it helped when he had a nunvil hangover." Lance said, leaning back against the shower door. I sit up slowly, poking my bottom lip out, "I never want to drink again." I say and close my eyes. Lance scoffed, "Not what you said last night."

I clenched my jaw, "Well I regret most of the things I said and did last night." I can see him out of the corner of my eye, he seemed hurt. I'm such an asshole, I hurt his feelings. He's just trying to be nice and I had to be a douchebag. I roll my eyes at myself and hold my stomach. Then I was heaving, bending over the bowl and letting everything out. I felt Lance move behind me, carefully pulling my hair back. I whimpered and gagged, I hated the smell even more. Lance hushed me and I retch again. He's so fucking nice, asshole. He snickered and I roll my eyes, "Stop listening to my thoughts." I groan.

"Stop thinking so loud." He laughed and pulled more hair back.

Hating Lance was a lot harder now.

"It looks like a little grape," I said, squishing the small round purple pill carefully in my hand. "It does not taste like grapes at all," he laughs, popping one into the back of his mouth and then drinking his water. I take mine and sigh afterwards, I need this to go away now. "What do you want to do today?" He smiled.

"Right now I just want to lay down and sleep. I feel like shit," I complain and flop onto his bed. He sighed through his teeth, "Well that's too bad because we both have laundry to do." I groan dramatically into the blanket, I hate laundry. "Would you like to be carried, your highness?" He teased. I roll over onto my back, my legs hanging over the edge, "Are you always going to hold that against me?" I scoff. Lance grins, "It's only because you looked like a poor damsel in distress." He grinned. I roll my eyes and sit up again.

Lance and I carry our baskets all the way to the laundry room, which is on the other side of the castle. Corans medicine worked really fast, I feel a lot better. Lance was humming the Shakira song again. He hip bumped me and wiggled his brows. I smile and bump him back. I hate him for making me happy. "That's what we're going to do today," he beamed, now walking with a slight bounce.

I raise a brow, "What?"

"I'm going to teach you how to dance. Real dancing, not square dancing." Lance teased, winking at me. I look forward and scoff, "Yep, every Texan just loves our rootin' tootin' square dancin!" I say in a forced southern accent. Lance nearly died from laughing, apparently, he'd been waiting his entire life for me to say something "Tex-ish".

"I can't dance," I say, setting my basket on the floor. Lance opened the washing machine, dumping in his basket, cramming them all in and then poured the detergent straight in. No measuring. "Yeah, that's the point of me teaching you." He said slamming it closed and starting it. I roll my eyes, "Do you remember what happened last time you tried to teach me something?" I ask, jumping up to sit on the dryer and pointing to my foot. He rolls his eyes with a grin, "How could I forget, you were blubbering all over me." He bit his lips and stood about a few inches away from between my legs.

I cross the quickly and try not to blush. I'm supposed to be pushing him away. "C'mon, I'm the best dance teacher. I'm Cuban," Lance laughed and pointed to himself. I roll my eyes, "There's no way." I shrug. Lance raised a brow and licked over his teeth while he laughed, "Wanna bet?"

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OOOO look at me with 2 chapters in one day. I tend to like write chapters ahead before I'm even finished with the chapter I'm supposed to be doing so this has been done for like a week lmao.