Sunset Boulevard

Chapter 4

Delilah was beaten savagely all of a sudden...

"Wake up, slut!"

...with, it seemed, a pillow.

"Mm!" she groaned, mumbling a few incoherent words that Chelsea couldn't decipher, even with her ear against the pillow which the blonde's head was under.

"Yeah." She said, an amused grin on her face. "I never caught any of that. "

Delilah sighed heavily, and removed the pillow from her head. Blinking rapidly as the sun hit her eyes, and she felt them tearing up. She then narrowed her eyes at her best friend, as the brunette stood over her with a large grin on her face.

"You're a dick, Chelsea." She huffed, bringing her cool hand to her boiling forehead.

The brunette gasped, "PMS much?"

She rolled her eyes and sat up blinking rapidly for a moment.

"Wait." Delilah said, holding up her hand as if to stop the room from spinning. "What the fuck am I doing here? "

Chelsea bit out a laugh, and Delilah winced. "Jesus, how drunk were you last night?"

"Chelsea."

The girl snort-giggled and bounced onto her bed, crossing her legs in front of the ill-looking blonde. "Matt brought your drunk-ass home. It was fun to watch."

"Thanks for the sympathy, Chels," she glared at her, holding her head in her hands. "I can feel the love."

"Hey, if I wasn't still awake to bring you in here last night, you definitely would've been feeling the love, if you catch my drift," she wiggled her eyebrows and laughed when the blonde threw one of the fluffy cream pillows at her head, with surprisingly good aim.

"Shut up!" she whined, dropping back onto her back. "You could've told me he was going."

Chelsea shrugged. "Hey, I don't stalk the boy, he only lives here." She replied sarcastically.

"If you're gonna be mean and unsympathetic to my hung-over state, you can leave."

"It's my bedroom!" Chelsea was mildly insulted, but the stupid grin wouldn't leave her face as she watched her friend squirm in pain over her 'fun' from last night.

But then she grimaced, and shook her head as Delilah suddenly jumped up and ran into her en-suite, slamming the door and throwing up the contents of her stomach into the toilet, which hurt, since all that was in there was the alcohol. It bubbled up and burned her throat, as the bile made her eyes water involuntarily.

"You need any help in there?" the brunette called, wincing as she heard her friend's retching.

Delilah panted and slid to the floor, hugging the porcelain and leaning her cheek against the cool marble floor. She breathed heavily in and out as a sudden wave of nausea hit, and she felt her stomach rising again.

"Babe?" Chelsea knocked, peeking in and frowning sympathetically. She pattered across the floor and knelt down behind her friend, gathering up her long blonde hair in her hands and twisting it into a high bun.

"Well," she said, rubbing her back in a circular motion. "It sounds like you had a better night than me."

Delilah laughed into the bowl, the noise echoing out. She sat up, flushed the chain, and sat back against the wall, breathing heavily. Chelsea passed her a tissue to wipe her mouth.

"I take it," she breathed out very slowly, "Things didn't go well with Devon?"

Chelsea scoffed and sat down, cross-legged, in front of her. "He's a whiny bitch. He told me beforehand that if we had sex, I couldn't stay because his sister," she used quotation marks with his fingers and rolled her eyes, "was coming in the morning. I kicked him in the balls and walked out."