Definitely, Maybe

Chapter 3: The Alex Effect

"Anne,"

No response.

"Anne?"

Silence.

"For the love of god, Anne!"

Anne groans and yanks the earphones out her ears and turns her head to me with an irritated look on her face.

"What do you want?"

It was three o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon and Anne, shockingly enough, was battling a crippling hangover. She was laying on her bed still underneath the covers with her hair in a messy ponytail and her eyes stained slightly black with last night's makeup and sporting a sickly complexion. I asked to pop over earlier that day and she agreed on the conditional terms that I brought with me some tomato juice and veggie chicken nuggets, that which she always claimed was the elite hangover cure. Alas, since my arrival she had consumed said hangover cure, threw it back it up and proceeded to feel sorry for herself while watching the new series of Stranger Things.

"Touchy," I said with raised eyebrows.

She groaned and rolled over from her side and flopped on her back, raising her hand carelessly to her head.

"I am in the depths of the fieriest pits of hell." She deadpanned. I raised an eyebrow bemusedly at her while she continued to wallow in self-pity.

"Self-inflicted," I sang while flipping through the crappy gossip magazine that was beside her bed.

"It is called wanting to enjoy one's self," She snarked.

"Are you suggesting I don't enjoy myself?" I asked. She moved her hand from over her eyes just to give me a knowing look, before returning her hand to its previous position.

"Not as much as you used to," She mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear. I tensed slightly. I knew what she meant. Anne had been my best friend since we were the tender age of six, and it was to my greatest delight that she had decided, like me and most of the other people we grew up with, to attend the university near the town that we grew up in. It was a decision that I was always quite shocked at. For me, it had never been a decision that was up to me. Anne was always very free-spirited and I never imagined in a million years she would want to stay here.

I had pretended not to notice that she blatantly pointed out the lack of enjoyment I found in life after Alex. I always tried to remind myself that no matter how alive I felt, the hurt I endured as a result was not worth everything else. Every single time I failed miserably.

"What did you want to ask me anyway?" Anne interjected, interrupting my thoughts.

"Huh?" I dumbly muttered, still finding my footing in the present.

"You rudely interrupted my hangover routine,"

I rolled my eyes at this comment.

"So what's up?"

I lightly fingered the magazine cover trying my hardest to read the words on it, refusing to meet Anne's piercing gaze. Suddenly my passing question that I was going to ask held a lot more weight on it.

"What do you think of Christian?"

I asked, still refusing to meet her gaze. I could hear her let out a deep sigh.

"We've had this conversation, El," She said rolling back to her side, facing away from me.

I was sure she was getting sick of me asking this question.

"He's perfect, obviously,"

I wasn't sure if she even tried to hide the bitterness in her tone, but, either way, she failed. I poked her shoulder, and she slightly turned her head toward me.