✔ DRUNK words, SOBER thoughts ✖ hemmings au

03. Seafood Shacks & Vomit Queens

[a/n: this story will have a few phrases here & there in tagalog, a filipino dialect. translations will be provided]

//

ARI.

The sun was stupid. Well, only at this very moment because its bright rays found its way through my curtains and blinded my eyes. I was hoping to get a good 5 hours of sleep before my lunchtime shift at noon today, but thanks to the oh so wondrous California sun, that wasn't happening.

I yawned, stretching out my arms and wiped away the small trail of saliva with my tank top. I sat up in my bed reaching over and grabbing my phone from the side table. Pressing the button and swiping the screen, I quickly checked my notifications and text messages. As I scrolled through Instagram, I looked at a 5-photo collage that Jasey posted from the party last night. In addition to cute all-female photos with other hot girls from school, and a photo of her and her boyfriend, there was another photo in the collage that caught my attention.

Luke Hemmings.

The picture showed Luke— pre vomit— with his preppy group of boy friends. He had his arm around a tall blonde in a skimpy outfit. I'd be lying if I said she wasn't beautiful, because without a doubt, she was gorgeous. Exactly Luke's type.

I threw my phone off to the side, swinging my legs off the edge of my bed and letting the sheets run down my bare legs. I made my way to my bathroom with my phone in hand. I glanced in the mirror and was startled by the reflection. Dark circles, matted hair, greasy face.

"Oh dear lord... I wouldn't even marry me," I spoke to myself, turning away from the mirror.

I plugged my phone into a set of speakers that sat on the middle shelf. With the upbeat sounds of We The Kings echoing throughout the bathroom, I proceeded to take a nice warm shower. After granting myself with the luxuries of sweet pea scented shampoos and 4-blade razors, I continued with my after shower rituals. Hairbrush karaoke.

"Cause I will never go down, any other wayyyy!"

I was definitely no singer, nor was I dancer but I did it anyway. Loud, proud, and all over the place, I danced around in my towel as I slapped on powder foundation, filled in my eyebrows and added my signature winged liner to my eyelids. With only 30 minutes left to spare till my shift started, I threw on one of the many Pier Pressure Seafood Shack tee shirts I had, along with a pair of black skinny jeans. I grabbed my purse and ran down the stairs, leaping off the last few steps. I entered an empty kitchen, noticing a pot of some traditional Filipino dish on the stove. I decided against it, and opted for a couple of granola bars and a can of Red Bull before heading towards the front door.

"Hoy anak! Baon mo!"

(translation: hey child or dear; your packed lunch)

I turned on my heel, facing my mom who was still in her scrubs. She held out a plastic bag in my direction. I sighed and trudged back to her with a smile. I was almost 18 years old and my mom still insisted on preparing lunch for me, completely ignoring the fact that I work at a restaurant that serves me a free meal each shift. As the youngest daughter, she still tried to baby me whenever she could. With my older sister off in college, my mom wasn't quite ready to let me go.

"Thanks mom," I kissed her on the cheek, grabbing the plastic bag from her hands.

"Be good okay? Don't play your music too loud. Ingat," she instructed.

(translation: be careful)

"Yes, I promise," I declared, opening the front door, and waving my hand.