Dixison: Roommates

Closed on Sunday

Addison's POV

I knew Dixie's hangover was going to be bad.

It's not like I had never been drunk before—I went to college! Every Saturday was a campus-wide party and every Sunday was the same:

Waking up at noon with a pounding headache, mouth so dry it could crack, and the after-shame of whatever stupid thing you had did or said the night before.

I stopped drinking after an incident at Limelight, an LA nightclub that we all used to party at. I'm not going to discuss it in detail—I don't even think about it in detail anymore. But let's put it this way. There are a lot of people in LA. Sociopaths, narcissists, clout chasers, the money hungry, pathological liars, and abusers. It's the city of sin. All of this chaotic mess melting with sweat in the hottest days of July.

So on the first day that I met Dixie in LA, I knew I had to protect her.

I watched her through half-open eyes, the room still hazy and dark. 

Her mouth was open slack, soft breaths falling in and out, and I admired the rise and fall of her chest. 

Her hand still grasped mine. How was that even possible? How did eight hours of sleep not interfere with our hand holding?

I sat up, and the bed creaked under my movement.

Dixie stirred. "Charli getmesomewater." she moaned, pressing her back deeper into the mattress and rubbing her eyes.

"Okay. I'll get you some Advil, too." I grinned, pulling my hand out of hers. 

I walked out of the room quickly, before I could see her reaction.

Downstairs

"Goodmorning, family." I sang loudly as I entered the living room.

The place was a wreck. Crumpled and empty beer cans scattered the floor and half-full red solo cups littered the countertops.

Charli was passed out in an armchair and Chase lay beside her on the floor. Random influencers laid about the room, all of them still asleep.

I walked into the kitchen and pulled the Advil bottle from the cabinet. 

"Can I have some?" a quiet voice asked.

I turned to face Charli, who was slumped over in a standing position, shoulders hunched forward and knees nearly buckling. 

She took baby steps towards me and laid her head on my shoulder, embracing me in a hug. I rubbed her back through her sweatshirt.

"Good morning, knucklehead," I brushed my fingers through her tangled hair.

"Hmmm." she reciprocated, leaning in to my touch. "Where's Dixie?"

"Upstairs. This Advil is for her...I think her hangover's gonna be killer."

"Aw." Charli snuggled against me. "You like my sister."

"I do not!" I defended, cheeks tinting pink. 

"She's just my roommate. And I'm already talking to someone." I pushed two tablets into Charli's mouth and cracked open a water bottle for her. 

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hungover ROOMMATE to attend to."

Upstairs

Dixie had rolled onto her side, facing away from the door. I closed it softly and padded over to the bed. 

The light was coming in more thoroughly now, and I could see the freckles that scattered across her cheekbones. I moved her hair behind her ear with my thumb, stroking across her forehead.

"Please," she mumbled into the pillow.

I got off the bed and crouched next to it, eye level with her as I opened the bottle of water and drew two pills from my pocket.

"Dixie."