Worlds Apart

Chapter Twenty Four

Waking up was never a pleasant thing if I was being fair. Even if you were living in a meadow with some bubbling stream and a few fluffy birds singing a fucking lullaby to you, it’s not that great. And that only happens to bloody Snow White anyways.

Falling asleep is much better.

What is even worse is waking up with a hangover. The sort of waking up where you haven’t even opened your eyes, but your mind is conscious enough to take in exactly what you’ve done to it. It’s the one where you can already feel the ache pounding in behind your temples and the bile has risen to the back of your throat and your knees are weak without any pressure.

This was one of those mornings, and I hadn’t even opened my eyes.

It was fair, I supposed, my body had to somehow fight back against the shit I was running it through. That didn’t mean I was going to like it.

Not having the energy to even concoct a groan in the back of my throat, I buried my head into the pillows that didn’t smell fresh anymore as I squeezed my eyes shut. A part of me was hoping that if I kept my eyes closed I could keep it away, even a few moments of peace would be worth it – as anyone who had ever experienced a head splitting hangover knew. Any time would be a gift, and falling asleep again would be a miracle when this was pacing behind my mind, readying itself to pounce.

Any moment spent conscious was dangerous, because the urge to throw up was all too strong.

However all that hoping was whisked away when I felt a little nudge at my side as the body beside mine shifted. This seemed to be becoming a habit, and it was one that I would like to be squashed immediately. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be the type of person that shared a bed at night. I was slightly worried I was going to rip Cam’s head from his shoulders one of these days. I’d probably still maintain that he deserved it.

In that frame of mind, I flicked my eyes open straight into a glare, ready to snap at him to fuck off. At the sudden light that was floundering through the pathetic white curtains I felt a wave of nausea, and it was completely in time to see the person that was lying at my side.

That wasn’t Cam.

Immediately I squeezed my eyes shut again. This time I gritted my teeth, feeling the sickening press of my stomach against my throat, everything deep inside it threatening to make a reappearance.

Realizing I was just going to make myself more sick if I kept myself in the dark, I opened one eye cautiously, peering to the person to my side. All suspicions were proved right as I watched Logan stretch into the mattress in his deep slumber. Vaguely I recognized that there were no lines or creases or attitude in his sleep, his face was just smooth and almost childlike in the innocence of sleep, hair pushed forward into his forehead. He slept in the same way as his brother, face dug into the pillows as he lay on his stomach, stretched out carelessly.

However that wasn’t really on the forefront of my mind as I attempted to scramble back from him, eyes bulging like mad as I stared at the sleeping Harrison.

I definitely didn’t remember that from last night.

As I shoot back away from the Harrison brother, my back knocked back into another warm, if hard, blockage.

I almost gave a shriek when I heard a lazy grunt from my side.

Although I would have very much liked to keep my wakefulness a secret in this circumstance, I didn’t really have impulse control at the moment. In that vein, I didn’t even think as I almost flung myself around in the other direction.

When I caught sight of the Harrison I’d originally expected, I was sure my eyes were about ready to drop from my head.

This couldn’t be happening.