Blue 2

Chapter Eight

The vibrations of my ringing phone invade my sleep and shakes me roughly by the shoulders. I attempt to wave away the nuisance waking me up way too early, but my efforts go unnoticed. I wake up slowly, and immediately I'm aware of the chaos coursing through me. My eyes are heavy and burning, my head is pounding, and my stomach grumbles, threatening me to vomit. I swallow the nasty taste in my mouth and sit upright in the bed. I squint through the brightness of the sun pouring through the balcony doors and look around at the room. For a moment I forget where I am, and then it hits me: Last night I got super drunk, grinded against a stranger, basically, drunk dialed Blue and deleted his number before partying hard the rest of the night.

"Oh no. No more drinking for the rest of your life, Lily," I reprimand myself.

I push my hands through my hair only to find it knotted and tangled. I push and tug my fingers out. It'll take me all morning to get my hair straight. I'm scared to look at the clock on the bedside table for the time. It's almost seven, and I promised the family I would have breakfast with them to make up for yesterday morning. Guilt travels through me, but so does nausea. I swallow thickly and rest against the headboard. I'll be fine if I can just catch my breath—

A wave of sickness stops my train of thought. I scramble off the king bed and sprint into the ensuite. I get on my knees in front of the toilet and wait for my body to get sick. But after a few minutes of nothing, I walk back into the bedroom. This is exactly why I don't drink—the hangover is horrendous. I will never understand why people drink themselves sick and party until they can barely remember anything. I don't even remember why I drank anything last night. I regret every moment leading up to this. My head is throbbing like crazy.

And my phone relentlessly ringing isn't helping any bit.

Groaning, I climb onto the bed and look at the screen. "Unknown number..." I mutter, contemplating if I should answer or not. My mind is foggy as I desperately dig through my memories of last night. Did I give someone my phone number, or is it just a random person accidentally calling the wrong number?

"Hello? Who is this?" I hesitantly answer.

"What do you mean? It's me, Blue." He sounds confused, and it hits me that I blocked his number last night. I thought that was just a drunken mistake on my part. Now that I'm all sobered up, will I let it stay deleted or add him back to my phone? I'll think about it later.

"Yeah... I know that." I unbelievingly cough and rub my aching temples. "Um... why are you calling me?" Doesn't he know me calling him last night was out of my drunken consciousness? Does he expect me to take him back and forget everything happened?

His raspy and breathless voice breaks through my thoughts. "I'm worried about you, that's why. You sounded fucked up over the phone last night. Are you okay?" he asks.

"Apart from the raging headache and nausea, I'm perfect," I reply.

He sighs. "I wish I could be there to help you get through it. Hangovers hate you especially."

I frown. "You can't, though, for obvious reasons."

"I know that, Lily. But that doesn't mean I can't worry about you from afar." I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. Only he would get annoyed with me when he's lucky I'm even talking to him right now.

"You don't need to worry about me, I'm fine," I say through gritted teeth.

"I am always going to worry about you, ballerina—"

"Don't call me that," I interrupt him. He doesn't get to call me that, not anymore. Too many good memories associate with that nickname, and I am trying to move on from him. Not get wrapped up in his pretty words and so-called compassion. He just wants to convince me he truly does love me and get me back, only to start the second round of his messed-up game.