The Prom Queen's Date

Chapter Four

It didn't matter what god was yours or what belief or lack thereof said, death was no one's friend and came for your head no matter what. Death, an unlimited theory and yet it was the one sure thing in life. And somehow I evaded death's bony fingers as the sun crept behind my eyelids, sparking an avoidable bright light to start my day.

Because that's what a hangover felt like; death knocking on your head and brittle boned fingers prying your skull open to bare the heat of an endless fire.

My head pounded and my legs ached against the softest pillow I'd ever slept against. The scent of green apples invaded my system as my head smashed against the pillow to try and claw my way back to sleep where pain couldn't gain entry. Green apples.

Gasping more violently than I should've, my throat closed up and coughing knocked my body to sit up straight to garner breath. My bedroom didn't smell like apples. The first noise I'd hear in my bedroom in the morning was dad scraping the vacuum against the door for a split second warning before surging into the room, tackling the floor with its endless sucking noise.

Well shit. This room was familiar . . . more familiar in my dreams than reality as of the past couple of years but familiar all the same. Double shit. Throwing the bed covers to the side, fluffy pyjamas bottoms presented itself along with an overlarge black t-shirt fit for a grown-ass man to wear. Holy shit. What did I do last night? I spun around on the bed, so my feet landed on the floor and stood up. The last thing I remembered . . . What was my last memory? This was bad. I couldn't remember.

Wait. Sabrina. Prom queen. Prom committee. Yes. Yikes. But why was I in her bedroom? Being in the Jenkin's house, that made sense, but why was I had I been stretched out in Sabrina's bed instead of in Anna's bedroom?

So many thoughts inside the head that wanted nothing more than quiet, so I climbed back into Sabrina's bed, knowing full well that it was, in fact, hers and not her sister's. I sprawled under and beneath the covers, inhaling the green apple scent, hoping it would soothe my heavy eyelids and wreck of a brain back to sleep.

I could feel it, the pull of the black voiding splurged with random dream sequences, but my focus snapped to the creak of the floorboards outside of the bedroom, which slowly made its way inside.

How did I expect Sabrina wouldn't come inside her own bedroom? I was caught off guard, blearily peeking at the girl who rummaged through her chest of drawers, one hand clenching the towel that hung around her wet body and the other shifting through her drawer. Like how rain slid down a car window, I watched as droplets trailed down her back.

If I wasn't so hungover, the pounding of my heart would've been louder than the pounding of my brain.

"Oh, you're awake," she said quietly. "I thought you were dead for a while."

"A dead girl in your bed. Your dream come to life."

"You understand." She left the clothes on her chest of drawers and faced me, chin pointed briefly to my left. "Drink. Take two of those."

I reached for the tablets and gulped them back, sighing in relief as the cold water spread down my throat. "You're being way too kind to me. I wasn't even that drunk . . . right? How am I feeling this bad?"

"You weren't even that drunk," she repeated, sitting on the end of the bed. If I dared to look, I bet my pulse could be seen through my wrist. Nothing but a towel separated her and the bed. Jesus. "Sam, you don't have to believe another word I say to you ever, but trust me when I say, that's the biggest lie to ever come out of your mouth."

"Really? No . . . I wasn't that bad. Was I?"

"The fact that you have to ask . . . " she trailed off and ran her hand down the silky bed sheets. "You almost considered going straight for the likes of Jack Milton," she said casually, looking sideways at me with those bright eyes. "You were in the pool, in my sister's dress, thinking everyone was a character from Frozen."