Waking up was a mistake
My head is pounding. My limbs are lead-filled and heavy. My mouth tastes like something died in it. Probably my hopes and dreams. I want to lay back down but I know if I do, I'll probably never get up again, so I force myself to sit up and roll out bed. The floor is cold on my bare feet, and my vision goes fuzzy for second when I stand. Why do I keep doing this. I just need to set boundaries for myself, and stop drinking until I can't remember my middle name. It's not that complicated.
I sink onto the couch by the little balcony, and grab my phone from the charger. I have exactly zero texts wondering if I got home safely, so that's really sweet and heartwarming. I shut my eyes, leaning back on the couch. My head hurts still. In the quiet stillness of my mind, weird dream fragments come back to me, slipping away as I try to pin them down. I think I dreamt about kissing Jacob Bixenman. Wow, that's just embarrassing. That is some pining 12 year old girl shit right there. It really doesn't get much lower than that. We all hit embarrassing lows in life, Troye. Pull yourself together and go back up. I sit up again, massaging my temples as I gaze out the window. Last night is a vague blur that just gets blurrier. I stopped remembering things around the time that I drank that random pink drink. Come to think of it, I don't actually know how I got home. I swear to God if I fucking drove drunk or let someone else drive drunk for me, I will be so mad at Troye of 12 hours ago. I check my messages again but I didn't text anyone anything last night. Maybe I called someone? I tap into my call history, and see that I did make a call last night, and only one...to Jacob Bixenman.
Why the fuck did I call Jacob? Oh god. Oh god. Did I drunk dial him and confess whatever weird, suppressed feelings I have for him? Oh my God this is a nightmare. What do I do? How am I supposed to find out what I already did? Do I confront him? Ignore it and pretend it never happened? Is there some sort of procedural LA code to fall back on whenever you party too hard and drunk dial an obscenely attractive tall model? Out of sheer, I don't even know, desperation I guess, I go to Jacob's Instagram profile. He posted a new picture last night, him and a couple friends seated at a restaurant, serving looks to the camera. Something about the photo makes me do a double take, and then I realize what it is. That jacket. The jacket that Jacob is wearing looks familiar. Like, familiar to the point where I can almost smell it. It stirs some blurry, hidden memory in the archives of my brain, on the tip of my tongue, but disappearing every time I think I have it. Suddenly it hits me. Jacob was wearing that jacket in my dream last night.
I have never seen him wear that jacket in person, but he was wearing it last night, the same night I happen to dream that I kissed him, the same night that I called his number and as far as my phone tells me...he picked up.
Oh my God
What happened last night?
I have to text him, I have to. I have to know. I open a chat with his number, thinking carefully before typing out a message.
Hi Jacob, it's Troye Sivan. I don't want to bother you, but I think I called you last night from a party, and I was really really drunk. I don't remember much, but I was hoping that if anything happened that I should know about, you'll tell me.
I hesitate for a second before hitting send. Th message has hardly gone through before the "seen" notification appears, and a little typing bubble pops up. I watch the phone with bated breath, and it disappears. And then reappears. It does that a couple times before a reply from Jacob appears.
Hi Troye. I picked you up from the party you were at last night, because you called me by accident and I figured it wouldn't be that hard just to pop over and make sure you got home safely. I don't want to make things awkward, but you asked, and I'm not going to keep it from you. You kissed me last night. I didn't mean for it to happen, and I wasn't trying to take advantage of you, but you made the first move. Nothing else happened, I swear.
Hope that hangover isn't hitting you too hard. Drink lots of water :)
My phone slides through my fingers onto my lap as I drop it, mortified. Jacob is so polite, but he couldn't have made it clearer that I made a move and he absolutely isn't interested. God, does he have a boyfriend? Did I even ask?
I'm an embarrassment to myself, God that was such a slutty move. I probably just ruined my chance at the only new friend I've made in LA that I can tolerate. The only genuinely interesting, funny and sort of sweet person that I've met here. Why did I do that?
I should ask Emma to come shoot me and end my misery.
Or maybe I'll just send out a tweet asking someone to please shoot me and make it quick. There's probably at least one person who would do it.
I bury my face in my hands, slumping back on the couch. I fucked up. I'm not only mad at myself I'm...sad. I liked Jacob. And now thanks to my stupid, my fucking stupid drunk ass he'll probably never look twice at me again.
