I wake up feeling groggy and slightly hung over. I have a migraine, and the sun is sneaking its way through my blinds and illuminating my small room.
Tyson tried to kiss me last night.
I almost let him.
It's Saturday morning, and I still have a day and a half left with my best friend before my parent's return. That is if he didn't take off already. I wouldn't blame him after our awkward encounter last night.
I toss my comforter off my body and quickly give myself a once over in my vanity mirror. I have bedhead but not terribly bad. I run my fingers through my short hair to attempt to give it some composure. I look down at my oversized shirt and sweatpants before deciding against changing. Tyson has seen me in my pajamas more times than I can count, and I'm too worried that he's upset with me to waste any more time.
Slowly, I pull my door open, trying not to make too much noise. Last night I gave him permission to sleep in Mikey's room, but when I see Mikey's bed untouched, I know there is something wrong. I race down the stairs, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and dash to the window inside the study. The one that faces the street. I pull back the blinds and breathe out a sigh of relief when I see Tyson's old beat up bug in the driveway. So, he didn't leave.
I make my way to the living room and sure enough, he is passed out on the couch, hugging the near empty bottle of vodka. I can't help stifling a laugh. He stirs from the noise, tiredly opening his eyes and looking up at me. He must have forgotten what he was holding because the bottle rolls right out of his arms and onto the ground with a thud. I burst out laughing, thankful for the change in the air.
His eyes are only halfway open, but his face holds a confused expression. "What's so funny?" He begins rubbing his eyes.
"You." I continue giggling, then take a seat on the loveseat across from him. "Look, are we okay?" I figure it's better to nip it in the butt then to let it fester any longer.
"Of course, why wouldn't we be?" he asks.
"You don't remember?" There's no way...he definitely wasn't that drunk...or was he?
"Remember what?" he asks, sitting up.
I shake my head, frustrated. "Nothing...I guess."
"No, seriously," he presses. "What did I do?"
I can't help but break out into a small grin. "What makes you think that you did anything wrong?"
YOU ARE READING
A Date with the Devil *SAMPLE*
RomantikThe Monster. In one moment, my entire life was ripped away from me. I ignored the warning signs until it was too late. Until I became the victim. He took my life away from me; my freedom, my courage. I've lived my life in debilitating fear since tha...
