A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Chapter 8

It must've been around noon the next day when I got up.

My headache was pounding, but not nearly as bad as it would've been if I hadn't drunk all that water the previous night. So I made the obvious decision of trying to find some painkillers, shot out of bed a bit too quickly, which rendered me quite dizzy.

I started to stumble my way to the door when I realised that Brendon probably had spent the night and I wasn't exactly comfortable with him seeing me in nothing but my boxers just yet, so instead I went to my closet, got out a random tee and a pair a shorts before I, once again, started my journey towards the living area.

"Morning, Sunshine," Spencer greeted with a laugh. "Your hair looks like shit, dude."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered, running a hand through it to try to flatten it down a bit.

"Your Poptarts and your Advil are on the counter," he added, more seriously now.

I flashed him what I deemed a grateful look before walking out there to get the before-mentioned things, hearing how the general chatter started back up behind me.

I put the Poptarts into the toaster, poured myself a glass of juice and downed the pills.

Then I sat down at the kitchen table alone instead of going out to join the others who were seated all over the living room floor. I just didn't feel up to facing anybody at that moment. I remembered clearly what had happened the night before. I'd mercilessly been too drunk to have any self-control but not drunk enough to loose my memory. I guess saying that I was insecure and confused would be the truest thing at that moment. I was hung over, I knew there was an endless list of things I'd done wrong to other people and I thought I might be beginning to understand what it was I'd lost that night with Brendon. Only, if I were right about that, it would turn my whole life around. And right at that moment I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle that.

"You may want to take the Poptarts out of the toaster before they burn," someone said from behind me.

I obediently trudged up to do just that, wincing at the slight burning sensation on my fingers at holding the scalding pastries. "Thanks, Bren," I muttered, turning around to face him.

He looked... bad, not ugly, just as if he weren't feeling well. He'd lost even more weight and I seriously think he was as thin as me right then. His eyes still seemed slightly red and the bags beneath them were deeper than ever.

For the life of me I couldn't understand why he'd come into the kitchen when he knew I was there.

"Brent sent me out to get some more juice," he quickly explained, unbeknownst to himself answering my question.

"Oh," I muttered, walking to the fridge to get out two different kinds of juice. I kicked it closed behind me before heading back to hand him the cartons. "Listen," I muttered. "I was an ass last night, I'm sorry." I paused lightly, biting my lip. "Actually I've been an ass for a while and I don't expect you to forgive me, I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry." I paused again, finally forcing myself to look up and meet his stunned eyes. "For everything."

He shook his head slightly as if to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "I've not exactly been an angel either," he said lowly, holding my eyes captive with his own.

They reminded me too damn much of June's and that was too much to handle. I looked back down. "You had all the right reasons," I answered.

"The end doesn't justify the means, Ry," he commented with a dry, unhappy chuckly. "So... what does this mean?"

"What happened between us..." I trailed off slightly, still not wanting to think about it. "That's going to take a while for both of us to get past. But for now, let's just be civil towards each other, okay."