Lure To The Woods

XII

I woke up to the horrific sound of vacuuming. I groaned, burying my head under my pillow to drown out the noise. My brain was literally pounding so hard that I thought it was going to explode out of my skull. Who the hell vacuums this early on a Sunday morning?

I checked the time, realising it wasn't early morning at all. In fact, it was two in the afternoon. If I wandered downstairs this late, I would get an earful from Mum about sleeping in all day. I rolled out of bed, peeling the dress shirt I had slept in off of my back and dropping it onto the floor.

I stretched, trying to wake myself up. I smelt like weed, cigarette smoke and alcohol, which was making me feel queasy. I stumbled into the bathroom, gulping down water from the tap. I fumbled through my medicine cabinet, finding paracetamol. I took some, hoping it would help my hangover.

Next on my agenda was food. Greasy and full of carbs, preferably. I sat on the bathroom counter, pulling out my phone. I clicked onto our group chat, seeing a bunch of incoherent drunk texts pop up from last night. Most of them were from Mick- who was in a worse state than I was the last time I saw him.

'Hungover. Want food. Anyone for spoons?'

I sent the message and rested my head against the cold mirror, waiting for a reply. I thought back to last night and cringed, wishing I didn't remember anything. I had made such a fool of myself- throwing up in bushes and stumbling around in front of Xavier. I had trusted him way too easily, too. It was nice of him to take care of me, though.

On a normal night out, I would have woken up in those bushes this morning. Stumbling home at night with Xavier was certainly better than a walk of shame in the daylight. Not to mention, we held hands- I'd almost forgotten about that. 

I had seen his face!

Now that I was sober, I was hoping I would find him a little less attractive, but from what I remember, he was a god. I groaned once again. Trust me to be a vomiting mess when I come face to face with the most attractive man on the planet. Speaking of which, hadn't he told me to text him?

Now that I had seen his face and knew his full name, it didn't seem like a bad idea to give him my number, but I was still wary. I don't think he'd do anything bad with it, but it just seems like a romantic step forward and I'm not sure what I'd even say.

'Meet you there in 10.' -Heather

I pulled myself off of the bathroom counter, pulling on my coat and shoes. I don't think Mum even knows I'm home yet, so I may as well avoid the lecture and leave through the window. I was slightly unsteady as I crawled through the window and edged along the window sill, but I was experienced enough at this by now that I could do it drunk, hungover or sober.

I balanced along the garage roof and shimmied down the drain pipe, feeling less dizzy once my feet were on solid ground. I set off on my walk to Wetherspoons, excited by the prospect of a vegetarian English Breakfast to cure my hangover.

It was only round the corner, so when I arrived Heather was nowhere in sight. I slid into a booth, dimming the light so low that it was barely on. I rested my head against the table, hoping Heather would hurry up.

"You look like shit." A voice chuckled from behind me.

Upon inspection, I realised it was Mike. I waved, rubbing my eyes groggily to get them used to the light. Spoons was pretty dark at all times of day, but I just couldn't handle any light at all right now.

"Where's your other half?" I asked, looking for Mick.

"Pretty sure he died last night." Mike chuckled, picking up a menu to have a look, "Why's it sticky."