Sinking Faster

I did not like this. I felt quite nauseous and dizzy, and I could sense that a migraine was coming along soon, not to mention the fact that I did not like waking up at 3:04 in the morning and having not a clue of my whereabouts. I lifted the sheet that was on top of me, for it was too musky to sleep with anything else, and sat up, examining the room that I was in. From the pictures that hung along the walls in the living room, it appeared that I was at the Nickelsen residence. That meant a.) I could slip out of the house quickly and quietly, or b.) I could go back to sleep and see what the morning had to offer. Seeing that awkward situations were not my forte, I got up from the couch clumsily, looking for my sandals in the darkness.

“Shit,” I cursed groggily, rubbing my head as I bumped into the wall. Using my piece-of-shit cell phone as a guide, I quickly grabbed my shoes from the welcome mat that neatly laid among the carpet, trying to slip them on. In the midst of this, I accidentally stepped on a dog toy, causing a loud squeak to emit, which soon led to a chocolate-brown Labrador to come bolting down the stairs, its footsteps scratching along the hardwood floors.

I was screwed, no doubt about it. Much to my dismay, more creaking came from the stairwell, although this time Garrett appeared, looking exhausted in a wrinkled white v-neck and plaid pants.

“What’s going on? Why is the dog barking?” he asked sleepily, crossing his arms. “And why does it look like you were just about to leave?”

“I, uh. I don’t know…” I answered, turning around, shifting uneasily under his gaze. As I said before, I do not deal well with awkward situations. “I just wanted to get some fresh air?”

Garrett smirked, coming down the stairwell, going into the kitchen, which was in the next room. “Come on,” he said, motioning me to follow him.

I followed him into the now brightly lit kitchen, in which an island was centered in the middle, cabinets surrounding it. He opened one of the finished wooden cabinets, fishing a bottle of Asprin. He then grabbed a glass, filling it with water, and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I replied, taking the medicine gratefully. By now, my head was pounding, and the bright lights in this kitchen did nothing to help it. I walked around the island and sat on the stool, sipping the water.

“You look like shit,” Garrett observed, leaning against the sink, smirk plastered on his face.

“Oh, how kind of you,” I said, putting the glass down onto the island. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, come on. With this hair?” he grinned, mussing his hair with his fingers. “This hair is the shit.”

I rolled my eyes, a little bit confused as to why we were actually having a civil conversation. “Right, Garrett.”

“So, are you surprised?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Surprised about what?” I questioned, sitting on the stool.

“That you didn’t sleep with anyone tonight,” he explained, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Excuse me?”I guess he really knew how to play. I wasn’t going to fall in his trap, because I was too well-rounded for that, thus, I decided to go along with it. “I don’t know why, but you seem to have such a misconception of me, Mr. Nickelsen.”

Garrett chuckled, crossing his arms again, smirking. “I do, don’t I?”

“Yeah, and I’d like to know why,” I said, playing with my hair, glancing up at him.

Uncrossing his arms, he shrugged, “Well I’ve just heard that you’ve slept with certain people, and that it caused a lot of problems. And then Courtney mentioned that you happen to get around a lot.

“Well, Garrett,” I replied, clearing my voice, “it seems like you believe everything you hear.”

He looked at me for a long time, saying, “No, that’s not what I meant…I just figured, because I mean, look at you…you’re-”

Before he could even finish, I hopped down from the stool, standing right in front of him, poking him square in the chest. “First of all, Garrett, you don’t even know me, and even if you did, you‘d know none of that shit is true.”

“Okay that-” he started to interrupt, squirming and looking irritated.

“You’re a lot better off not believing every single fucking thing you hear,” I finished, now furious, making my way back into the living room, putting my shoes on and opening the door.

“Listen, I didn’t think you‘d get so upset about it,” he retorted, following me onto the porch.

“Yeah? Well obviously you didn’t think at all, Garrett. Goodbye,” I said as I walked down the driveway, leaving him standing there, at three forty-five in the morning.

I, Nicole Freeman, did not like being judged. Especially not by some boy in a band, of whom seemed to think he had it all figured out - that pissed me off. I’d tried to get along with him, for Courtney’s sake, but I couldn’t deal with being ambushed with the fact that he believed in some senseless rumor about me.

How could someone be so stupid? What kind of girl did he take me for?

Better yet, why did I even care?