Crazy in Love
"It's my favourite too"
Oh boy... if I had ever felt my worst in all my entire life, this was it. I wake up feeling totally disoriented. Fatigue is trying to overpower my eyes, my mind, especially my body. My stomach is humming with ache. My mouth, so dry. Is this what being 'properly drunk' feels like? Fuck that. Never again.
Conjuring up the strength I have left, I manage to lift my hand and stroke my tired face. I stretch; cramp! In the back of my left leg. Wincing, I curl into a ball and rub it hard, fast, begging for the pain to stop. Ouch, ouch, burning, squeezing, stabbing... poking, throbbing... gone. I sigh and relax, then give a groan of helplessness and fear. I hate this. I wish I had never gone to that party. Hopefully Joyce got up bright and early and has a nice breakfast waiting downstairs for me - she always does that.
But as I open my eyes a second time, I realise the ceiling of the room isn't it's usual colour. My room is pastel-pink. This one is blue. I am confused, so I force my head to the side to look out. This isn't my room!
I slowly push myself up into a sitting position and rub the back of my sore, pounding head. This definitely isn't my room. It appears to be an attic room converted into a bedroom. It's roomy, and tidy, but boring... I look down at myself. I'm still in the clothes I wore from last night - but my skirt is all twisted and has risen up to my waist. I try to pull it down, but hardly succeed while sitting, so I try to stand.
Woah! I have no balance! I spin round and throw myself forwards to press my hands onto the single bed matrice. I had never been truly "hungover" before, but now I suppose I can call myself a real human being. Right?
The door opens and I nervously bolt upright with embarrassment and worry; who is this person?... James?? Yes. James. He walks in holding a brown tray, on which there is a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, and a cup of steaming tea. Oh wow. I had never been so enticed by food before.
"Morning, sunshine," James stiffly chuckles, setting down the tray on the empty desk beside his computer, "I would usually ask how you feel, but I don't think I need to..."
He eyes me up and down sympathetically. I groan, lowering back down onto the bed, and press my shaking finger tips to my forehead. I am so confused. My memory isn't so good, either. I only have snippets of what happened... I let my head hang and then I notice the squared cotton bandages which have been taped upon my knee caps. Blood is lightly staining through.
"Oh, yes," James points at them sheepishly, "I didn't want to just leave them, even though you were extraordinarily drunk. I cleaned them and put protection over them to stop any grazes if you turned in your sleep. You can take them off now, if you like."
I slowly look up at him; I shake my head. He chuckles. He knows it's not because I'm worried I'll hurt myself even more - it's just because I can't be bothered. I actually feel so drained of all energy. Probably so much so that I won't be able to eat.
"If your stomach isn't up to this, it's not a problem. I won't be offended. My mum made extras so I brought it up just in case." James comments quietly while he watches me.
Something is odd here. James is acting... different. I can't put my finger on it, but I sense a change in him. Only mildly, but there is definitely something. He can't look at me in the eyes longer than 2 seconds, it seems. That's all I've picked up on so far, but there's more. I'm just too fucked over to notice. But anyone would notice the short eye-contact.
I can't be bothered to get into it, now.
I brush my hair back out of my face before reaching down to my jacket to get my phone out, but it's not in either pocket. James watches me search for it for at least 5 seconds before saying anything, as though he was enjoying making a fool out of me. Like a monkey searching for confiscated bananas.
"Here," James held out my phone, "I turned it off while you were sleeping; it kept going off, and I didn't want you to be woken up again."
I nod and take it from him. I hold the power button down and wait for it to turn on. The whole time, I just stare at the screen with my tight, sore eyes. James is watching me. I don't know why. Do I look like a zombie so much?
The phone was finally on. And before I could even think about who I wanted to call first, I had an incoming of alerts. 7 txt messages. Five of them were from my voicemail, informing me that I had new voice messages. One other txt was from Joyce, saying 'where r u?', and the last was from a random number, which said, "It's warren. Joyce is really worried about you. Where are you? Please call back asap."
I listen to my voicemails. They're all from Joyce, and as I go through them, Joyce's voice sounds angrier and angrier. In the last message, Warren interrupts her - I hear him. Then Joyce angrily informs me that she's staying round his house; her tone of voice is spiteful. She knew it would upset me when I heard her say that. So she put on a teasing tone.
I clip my phone shut and sigh in deep annoyance and distress. I didn't want to think about Joyce like that - I had no right to be angry with her. First, I had nothing to worry about, because Joyce would never, ever do that to me, no matter what. We have had a boy rule since we became friends in year 7 - which was 6 years ago. She'd never do anything with him... but... would he try to do something with her?
I scrunch my eyes shut tight and throw my phone on the pillow to vent my anger. I then rest my elbows on my knees and allow my face to fall into my hands, like the pathetic, miserable drunk I am.
James sighs for me, "Are... you ok?"
I shake my head, "Why didn't you say anything to Joyce or Warren? Why didn't you tell them where we were going?"
James blinks worriedly; he doesn't know why I'm angry, "I... I don't know. It didn't occur to me at the time. You were so sick - my main priority was getting you somewhere safe where you could sleep."
I lean my head back and take a deep breath. Just calm down, Ally. Don't take it out on James. He was only doing what he thought was best, after all. I'm the only one to blame for this mess - I drank too much. I should have stopped at 3 beers. I think it was James' orange mix that got me. But no, I won't blame him.
"So... are you hungry?" James cluelessly asks, to brush away the awkwardness in the room.
I shake my head and carefully stand, "Thanks James, but no... I just... I need to get home."
"You sure? There's even bacon here. Good bacon." James sweetly tries to lighten my spirits.
I chuckle weakly, "That's my favourite meat, too... but no, I can't."
James smiles; a warm smile, directly into my eyes, "It's my favourite, too..."
I roll my eyes with another chuckle. What a coincidence. But seriously... I need to go home. I try to protest, but James is to determined; he says his mum will give me a lift home, as it's quite a journey on my own, on the bus, in the state I'm in. I feel bad, I feel embarrassed and ashamed, but his mum is lovely. So sweet and mousy. A twittering laugh, like someone out of Grease. She's pretty.
"Thank you for this, Mrs. Pogue. I really appreciate it... and I'm sorry you have to see me in such a state like this." I mumble as I lean my head against the cool glass of the window.
She giggles fairly, "Don't be silly, dear. I was a teenager once, too, you know. We've all been there. At least you can make yourself stronger - learn from it. Did you enjoy your breakfast?"
I sigh guiltily, "Aw, I'm sorry Mrs. Pogue"-
"Daisy, please." She pats my leg kindly; this sends uncomfortable vibrations through my body.
"Daisy," I repeat, swallowing down my nausea, "I'm afraid I couldn't stomach it. Bacon's my favourite, too."
"Of all times," She tuts, amused at something, "I never really cook bacon. James hates the stuff - but I had bought some yesterday for myself and there were strips left over, so I thought you'd do them well. Ah, never mind."
My lips create a curious frown; I shrug, thinking nothing of it, but finding my thought a little strange, "James told me it was his favourite."
Daisy looks confused as well, "He must have been talking about something else, dear. Never mind. Just rest yourself; I'll wake you when we get to your house."
That's strange... I was sure we were talking about bacon. Yes. Yes, we were. I am 100%, totally, utterly and positively certain that James told me bacon was his favourite meat, just like mine. It wouldn't have been anything else. How odd... why would he lie?
It was another 25-30 minutes until we got to my house. I stumbled out and tried to keep a strong, stable composition for Daisy until she had reversed her car and driven off the way she came. Once she was gone, I was able to relax.
I stagger up the path to my house and fumble with the keys. I just need sleep. Sleeeeeeeeep. There was no way I could've gone back to sleep at James'. I felt... odd there. I mean, it was so sweet of him to take me back to his house and give me his bed, but I felt like a burden. I felt uncomfortable - and again, ashamed. I'm James' new friend at the school, and what an good impression I was setting. Ugh.
As I drag my sorry ass up the stairs, I slip off my jacket and get out my phone before letting it fall to the ground. I leave it behind on the stairs. I don't care. I scroll down the phonebook list until I come to Joyce's name, then press the green phone key.
Ring ring... ring ring... ring ring... ring ring... it goes to voicemail.
I growl and hang up. I wait until I've made it to my bedroom door to try phoning her again. I need to let her know I'm ok. I need to say sorry before I sleep.
Ring ring... ring ring... ring ring... ring ring...
"M'ello?" Her sleepy voice answers.
"Joyce," I sigh, falling onto my bed, "Joyce, I'm so sorry about last night... I was so out of it. James made this crazy cocktail and before I knew it I was all over the place. He took me back to his house where I slept it off. I only just got in; his mum gave me a lift. I got your voicemails, and I felt so guilty, I just had to ca"-
"Who is it?" Warren's voice mumbles in the background.
I pause; my stomach sinks; my voice escapes in a trembling whisper, "... Are you in bed with him?"
Joyce sighs, "Chill out, Ally, it's not what you think..."
"I know I left without saying anything, but I couldn't help that, and I admit I was stupid and an idiot. I apologise, ok? But what you've done-... you-... I thought I could trust you. I guess I was wrong."
With that, I hang up, and dive onto my pillows. My phone begins to ring, but I just switch it off in my anger. I bury my face back into my pillow and hug it with my arms. I just want it all to go away, just for now. I'll deal with everything when I feel better. That's right... Oh, and I mustn't forget to thank James. I completely forgot to say anything when I was in his room. I'm such a mess.
Jame's POV:
~~~I can't believe I have these pictures. They're... amazing. I've captured parts of Ally that no one else has ever seen before - well, apart from her parents probably. I'm seeing Ally clearer than any other person alive. And I love it.
I want her to be awake next time, and caressing me back. Tasting me too. I don't want just pictures. As much as I love them, I want the real thing. I've fallen for you, Ally.
I saw the look in her face. I was her hero this morning. She knew what I'd done for her, and she realised that no other guy would be as nice as me. I mean, I know I took advantage to some extent, but at least I didn't rape her. Most guys would. But me - I only touched and tasted. I didn't push any limits. Maybe, in her subconscious mind, she'll have a sense of me on her skin, in her mouth, still. She won't believe I've done anything, but she'll be confused. She'll want me.
I need to, Ally. I love you, Ally.
And now that Joyce and Warren are angry with you for leaving them, you'll have no one but me to turn to. And I'll be waiting with open arms, my baby Ally. Come to me. Let me love you, and be loved in return. I want to fuck you, Ally, but not just any way. I want to make love to you, and I want you to want to make love too.
Christ, I can't take this Ally. These pictures are making me anxious. I want you in my bed again... Oh, I can still smell you on the pillows, the sheets... you left a small stain on the matrice-cover. It's the power of my touch. But you don't remember how I pleased you. You don't know... but you will.
I love you, Ally.~~~
Conjuring up the strength I have left, I manage to lift my hand and stroke my tired face. I stretch; cramp! In the back of my left leg. Wincing, I curl into a ball and rub it hard, fast, begging for the pain to stop. Ouch, ouch, burning, squeezing, stabbing... poking, throbbing... gone. I sigh and relax, then give a groan of helplessness and fear. I hate this. I wish I had never gone to that party. Hopefully Joyce got up bright and early and has a nice breakfast waiting downstairs for me - she always does that.
But as I open my eyes a second time, I realise the ceiling of the room isn't it's usual colour. My room is pastel-pink. This one is blue. I am confused, so I force my head to the side to look out. This isn't my room!
I slowly push myself up into a sitting position and rub the back of my sore, pounding head. This definitely isn't my room. It appears to be an attic room converted into a bedroom. It's roomy, and tidy, but boring... I look down at myself. I'm still in the clothes I wore from last night - but my skirt is all twisted and has risen up to my waist. I try to pull it down, but hardly succeed while sitting, so I try to stand.
Woah! I have no balance! I spin round and throw myself forwards to press my hands onto the single bed matrice. I had never been truly "hungover" before, but now I suppose I can call myself a real human being. Right?
The door opens and I nervously bolt upright with embarrassment and worry; who is this person?... James?? Yes. James. He walks in holding a brown tray, on which there is a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, and a cup of steaming tea. Oh wow. I had never been so enticed by food before.
"Morning, sunshine," James stiffly chuckles, setting down the tray on the empty desk beside his computer, "I would usually ask how you feel, but I don't think I need to..."
He eyes me up and down sympathetically. I groan, lowering back down onto the bed, and press my shaking finger tips to my forehead. I am so confused. My memory isn't so good, either. I only have snippets of what happened... I let my head hang and then I notice the squared cotton bandages which have been taped upon my knee caps. Blood is lightly staining through.
"Oh, yes," James points at them sheepishly, "I didn't want to just leave them, even though you were extraordinarily drunk. I cleaned them and put protection over them to stop any grazes if you turned in your sleep. You can take them off now, if you like."
I slowly look up at him; I shake my head. He chuckles. He knows it's not because I'm worried I'll hurt myself even more - it's just because I can't be bothered. I actually feel so drained of all energy. Probably so much so that I won't be able to eat.
"If your stomach isn't up to this, it's not a problem. I won't be offended. My mum made extras so I brought it up just in case." James comments quietly while he watches me.
Something is odd here. James is acting... different. I can't put my finger on it, but I sense a change in him. Only mildly, but there is definitely something. He can't look at me in the eyes longer than 2 seconds, it seems. That's all I've picked up on so far, but there's more. I'm just too fucked over to notice. But anyone would notice the short eye-contact.
I can't be bothered to get into it, now.
I brush my hair back out of my face before reaching down to my jacket to get my phone out, but it's not in either pocket. James watches me search for it for at least 5 seconds before saying anything, as though he was enjoying making a fool out of me. Like a monkey searching for confiscated bananas.
"Here," James held out my phone, "I turned it off while you were sleeping; it kept going off, and I didn't want you to be woken up again."
I nod and take it from him. I hold the power button down and wait for it to turn on. The whole time, I just stare at the screen with my tight, sore eyes. James is watching me. I don't know why. Do I look like a zombie so much?
The phone was finally on. And before I could even think about who I wanted to call first, I had an incoming of alerts. 7 txt messages. Five of them were from my voicemail, informing me that I had new voice messages. One other txt was from Joyce, saying 'where r u?', and the last was from a random number, which said, "It's warren. Joyce is really worried about you. Where are you? Please call back asap."
I listen to my voicemails. They're all from Joyce, and as I go through them, Joyce's voice sounds angrier and angrier. In the last message, Warren interrupts her - I hear him. Then Joyce angrily informs me that she's staying round his house; her tone of voice is spiteful. She knew it would upset me when I heard her say that. So she put on a teasing tone.
I clip my phone shut and sigh in deep annoyance and distress. I didn't want to think about Joyce like that - I had no right to be angry with her. First, I had nothing to worry about, because Joyce would never, ever do that to me, no matter what. We have had a boy rule since we became friends in year 7 - which was 6 years ago. She'd never do anything with him... but... would he try to do something with her?
I scrunch my eyes shut tight and throw my phone on the pillow to vent my anger. I then rest my elbows on my knees and allow my face to fall into my hands, like the pathetic, miserable drunk I am.
James sighs for me, "Are... you ok?"
I shake my head, "Why didn't you say anything to Joyce or Warren? Why didn't you tell them where we were going?"
James blinks worriedly; he doesn't know why I'm angry, "I... I don't know. It didn't occur to me at the time. You were so sick - my main priority was getting you somewhere safe where you could sleep."
I lean my head back and take a deep breath. Just calm down, Ally. Don't take it out on James. He was only doing what he thought was best, after all. I'm the only one to blame for this mess - I drank too much. I should have stopped at 3 beers. I think it was James' orange mix that got me. But no, I won't blame him.
"So... are you hungry?" James cluelessly asks, to brush away the awkwardness in the room.
I shake my head and carefully stand, "Thanks James, but no... I just... I need to get home."
"You sure? There's even bacon here. Good bacon." James sweetly tries to lighten my spirits.
I chuckle weakly, "That's my favourite meat, too... but no, I can't."
James smiles; a warm smile, directly into my eyes, "It's my favourite, too..."
I roll my eyes with another chuckle. What a coincidence. But seriously... I need to go home. I try to protest, but James is to determined; he says his mum will give me a lift home, as it's quite a journey on my own, on the bus, in the state I'm in. I feel bad, I feel embarrassed and ashamed, but his mum is lovely. So sweet and mousy. A twittering laugh, like someone out of Grease. She's pretty.
"Thank you for this, Mrs. Pogue. I really appreciate it... and I'm sorry you have to see me in such a state like this." I mumble as I lean my head against the cool glass of the window.
She giggles fairly, "Don't be silly, dear. I was a teenager once, too, you know. We've all been there. At least you can make yourself stronger - learn from it. Did you enjoy your breakfast?"
I sigh guiltily, "Aw, I'm sorry Mrs. Pogue"-
"Daisy, please." She pats my leg kindly; this sends uncomfortable vibrations through my body.
"Daisy," I repeat, swallowing down my nausea, "I'm afraid I couldn't stomach it. Bacon's my favourite, too."
"Of all times," She tuts, amused at something, "I never really cook bacon. James hates the stuff - but I had bought some yesterday for myself and there were strips left over, so I thought you'd do them well. Ah, never mind."
My lips create a curious frown; I shrug, thinking nothing of it, but finding my thought a little strange, "James told me it was his favourite."
Daisy looks confused as well, "He must have been talking about something else, dear. Never mind. Just rest yourself; I'll wake you when we get to your house."
That's strange... I was sure we were talking about bacon. Yes. Yes, we were. I am 100%, totally, utterly and positively certain that James told me bacon was his favourite meat, just like mine. It wouldn't have been anything else. How odd... why would he lie?
It was another 25-30 minutes until we got to my house. I stumbled out and tried to keep a strong, stable composition for Daisy until she had reversed her car and driven off the way she came. Once she was gone, I was able to relax.
I stagger up the path to my house and fumble with the keys. I just need sleep. Sleeeeeeeeep. There was no way I could've gone back to sleep at James'. I felt... odd there. I mean, it was so sweet of him to take me back to his house and give me his bed, but I felt like a burden. I felt uncomfortable - and again, ashamed. I'm James' new friend at the school, and what an good impression I was setting. Ugh.
As I drag my sorry ass up the stairs, I slip off my jacket and get out my phone before letting it fall to the ground. I leave it behind on the stairs. I don't care. I scroll down the phonebook list until I come to Joyce's name, then press the green phone key.
Ring ring... ring ring... ring ring... ring ring... it goes to voicemail.
I growl and hang up. I wait until I've made it to my bedroom door to try phoning her again. I need to let her know I'm ok. I need to say sorry before I sleep.
Ring ring... ring ring... ring ring... ring ring...
"M'ello?" Her sleepy voice answers.
"Joyce," I sigh, falling onto my bed, "Joyce, I'm so sorry about last night... I was so out of it. James made this crazy cocktail and before I knew it I was all over the place. He took me back to his house where I slept it off. I only just got in; his mum gave me a lift. I got your voicemails, and I felt so guilty, I just had to ca"-
"Who is it?" Warren's voice mumbles in the background.
I pause; my stomach sinks; my voice escapes in a trembling whisper, "... Are you in bed with him?"
Joyce sighs, "Chill out, Ally, it's not what you think..."
"I know I left without saying anything, but I couldn't help that, and I admit I was stupid and an idiot. I apologise, ok? But what you've done-... you-... I thought I could trust you. I guess I was wrong."
With that, I hang up, and dive onto my pillows. My phone begins to ring, but I just switch it off in my anger. I bury my face back into my pillow and hug it with my arms. I just want it all to go away, just for now. I'll deal with everything when I feel better. That's right... Oh, and I mustn't forget to thank James. I completely forgot to say anything when I was in his room. I'm such a mess.
Jame's POV:
~~~I can't believe I have these pictures. They're... amazing. I've captured parts of Ally that no one else has ever seen before - well, apart from her parents probably. I'm seeing Ally clearer than any other person alive. And I love it.
I want her to be awake next time, and caressing me back. Tasting me too. I don't want just pictures. As much as I love them, I want the real thing. I've fallen for you, Ally.
I saw the look in her face. I was her hero this morning. She knew what I'd done for her, and she realised that no other guy would be as nice as me. I mean, I know I took advantage to some extent, but at least I didn't rape her. Most guys would. But me - I only touched and tasted. I didn't push any limits. Maybe, in her subconscious mind, she'll have a sense of me on her skin, in her mouth, still. She won't believe I've done anything, but she'll be confused. She'll want me.
I need to, Ally. I love you, Ally.
And now that Joyce and Warren are angry with you for leaving them, you'll have no one but me to turn to. And I'll be waiting with open arms, my baby Ally. Come to me. Let me love you, and be loved in return. I want to fuck you, Ally, but not just any way. I want to make love to you, and I want you to want to make love too.
Christ, I can't take this Ally. These pictures are making me anxious. I want you in my bed again... Oh, I can still smell you on the pillows, the sheets... you left a small stain on the matrice-cover. It's the power of my touch. But you don't remember how I pleased you. You don't know... but you will.
I love you, Ally.~~~