Right Now, I'm Anyone's

I rolled over, trying to pull the covers further up over my head without pulling them off my feet. It was freezing cold, even under my blanket. As I started waking up properly, I realised that I was dressed in my underwear and a vest; that’s why it was so cold.

My head throbbed, very painfully, and I tried to recall every little detail of the night before. At least, every little detail of every drink I had. Unfortunately my mind wanted something else. I thought about people, events. What Dean had said to me. What I felt like when I saw him with Zara...

No, shut up, not the right thing to think when hungover.

I blamed Jack for the entire catastrophe of a night out, since he was the one that talked me into actually going. Okay, so I remembered the first shots with the entire group, a couple of drinks between with Dimitri and Sierra, then more shots with James and Lee, and finally some more drinks between. I opened my eyes slowly and pulled the blanket off of my face – grateful that the curtains were firmly closed over the window, blocking out the light.

“Leila?” I heard Georgia’s voice from my bedroom door. “Are you awake yet?”

I rolled over to face the open door, squinting at it. Georgia was standing, leaning in the doorframe with her arms crossed and a concerned look on her face. I groaned slightly and put both of my heads to my head, before sitting up very slowly as not to make my head throb more. After I’d sat up, Georgia’s concerned face faded a little bit and she looked stern.

“What the hell did you two drink last night?” Georgia asked, obviously unable to hold back her eye-roll. “Dimitri’s completely unconscious; he will not wake up, and when he comes close to it he takes a swipe at my head.”

“I’m still trying to work that out for myself,” I laughed, but soon regretted it. I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead as it gave another splitting ache. God, even the sound of my own voice was almost unbearable. Georgia laughed at me and walked into my room, perching herself on the bed beside me. She looked at my clothes.

“You smell terrible,” she said. “And how are you not freezing?”

“I am,” I mumbled.

“Okay,” she said, dragging the ‘o’ out. “Go take a hot shower, get your slummy, clean clothes on and I’ll fix you my hangover cure.”

I nodded and felt slightly better already. Georgia’s hangover cure is basically a really, really strong cup of coffee, one vegetarian bacon sandwich, fried eggs and two pieces of toast. Slowly, I did as she told me and dragged myself heavily out of bed. I turned on the water and undressed, letting it heat up while I fished the last of the bobby pins from my ratty hair.

The water was so hot it seared my skin to the point where it would’ve hurt if I cared enough. I stood under the jet of water and thought, my mind wandering idly and making me worry. I ended up washing my hair twice because I was thinking too much.

Why did he expect me to be fine with him? I mean, regardless of the time, it was still a big deal. When someone betrays you so much in such a big way, how can you possibly forgive them for it? It wasn’t just a stupid grudge, was it? Who was he to tell me how I felt about him now? Why did I care who he was sleeping with now?

I scrubbed at my arms and legs before I got out of the shower. I wrapped a thick towel around my body and brushed my teeth thoroughly before I walked back to my bedroom. I threw on a pair of black sweatpants and an old green Flintstone’s T-Shirt. I looked at myself in the mirror as I towel-dried my hair. I was still thinking. When I think back about what he said, it wasn’t so much what he said that bothered me; it was that he was right about it.

I turned away from the mirror and spotted the yellow hoody, folded haphazardly at the end of my bed. I fought this tiny internal battle about whether I was going to give into temptation and put it on – just so I could feel...closer. I turned my back and walked out of the bedroom.

“I thought you drowned,” Georgia called from the kitchen, placing an egg onto one of the two plates set in front of her on the countertop. “You smell a million times better, though.”

I stuck my tongue out at her and sat down at the counter. “Thanks, Georgia, so much.”

She laughed at me and eventually sat down beside me. She put a plate down in front of either of us; the only difference being she was eating meat and I wasn’t. She always complained whenever she cooked for me, except for when she cooked the hangover cure.

“So,” I said through a mouthful of egg. “What are we doing today?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I got a couple of new films the other day; I was thinking we could watch those.”

“Gee,” I laughed. “If they’re even remotely like The X Files or something, we’re watching Juno.”

“No,” she grimaced. “I hate that film so much you don’t even understand. The ones I got aren’t like that; you might actually enjoy them.”

I shrugged and speared the last piece of egg onto my fork, shoving it into my mouth in a very unladylike manner. I took my first sip of the steaming cup of coffee she’d left for me and gagged; she’d made it about five times stronger than usual. I looked up and saw her laughing at me briefly, before she finished her second piece of toast and got up to put her plate in the small sink.

Georgia and I were constantly at loggerheads when it came to our taste in films. They were so opposite, it was extremely rare that we found something we both at least tolerated. I remember, once, she forced me to watch Alien and I was ready to slit my wrists from boredom. She hated my stupid comedies and I hated the sci-fi rubbished she loved.

Dimitri and I, however, were much agreed in our taste. We watched each other’s DVDs more often than not. Georgia hated foreign films as well; she always complained that the subtitles were distracting her from the film, or that they were all badly dubbed.

Picky, but I couldn’t help but love her.

*****

“Holy fuck, this guy is gorgeous,” Georgia sighed. We were sitting, curled up at opposite ends of our little couch watching Dead Calm – after a lot of arguing. She was sitting, staring at the television screen, practically drooling over Billy Zane. I felt like vomiting.

“Georgia, he’s about,” I said, stopping to think. “Forty...three? You’re not even twenty-two yet!”

“Hey, two months,” she laughed. “What’s twenty-one years? Nothing. Nothing at all; for Billy Zane anyway.”

I laughed and shuddered, kicking her lightly in the leg. “That’s disgusting.”

“It isn’t!” she protested. “Not at all! I mean, look at your boyfriend.”

I narrowed my eyes at her and put my feet up on her knees. “I see your whole being nice to Levi thing’s still going strong.”

“Retract the claws,” she shrugged, smiling mischievously. “I said I’d be nice to him, and only if I had to.”

“But why, Georgia?” I sighed. “Why don’t you like him?”

She shrugged again. “I just don’t think he’s any good. He gives me bad vibes, y’know?”

“But I love him, Gee,” I said, letting my head loll back. “Can you at least just keep those pointy comments to yourself?”

She turned to face me and rolled her eyes. I knew she wouldn’t say anything else on the subject. The truth was I knew she didn’t like him, whether she had reason to or not. I also understood that even if she had no reason, there’s always going to be at least one person you don’t like, no matter what they do.

I heard Georgia chuckle slightly when Billy slapped Nicole Kidman across the face – during the film, obviously – and I smiled. And it didn’t feel tense after that, just because Georgia laughed.

“So,” I said, breaking into our silence. “Are you and Jake talking yet, or do I have to break out the cane?”

She laughed and nodded. “Yeah. He’s no Billy Zane, but he’ll do nicely.”

“He’s a lot better looking than that old bastard,” I smiled. “So, what happened?”

“True, true,” she said, smiling to herself. “Basically, after you left last night, I just tried to look at it from his point of view. I went up to him and apologised for going mental over it.”

I smiled and turned to face her, my legs crossed in front of me. “That’s really great, Gee.”

“Oh, and then he asked me to go out with him Friday night,” she said, turning to face me as well.

“How is that possible?”

“What do you mean?”

I raised my eyebrows. “He has a show to play, you have to work.”

“Nope,” she laughed. “Eye Witness aren’t playing on Friday, and I could just score the night off anyway.”

“Oh. Where’s he taking you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure. Somewhere we can talk. Anyway, he’s not sure if he can; there’s nobody to look after Edie after the show.”

“Hey,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’ll look after her; I’ve got no other plans. Try and get the night off too.”

Georgia raised her eyebrows. “You sure?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

Georgia smiled this really, really big happy smile at me. If I didn’t know her better I’d expect her to do one of those little squealy things girls tend to do when they’re overly happy about something. Albeit, normally something stupid.

*****

Four hours, two films and countless items of contraband later, I was ready to go back to bed. It was only half past five in the evening, but all the food and sitting around doing nothing but watch films, eat all the food and talk had worn me out. Dimitri managed to drag himself out of bed eventually, but we wished he hadn’t because he was in a foul mood.

He walked into the living room, his hair even messier than usual, massive bags under his eyes, shirtless and yawning. Straight away, he had a bitch about the volume of the television, complaining that it woke him up and gave him a headache.

“I think it was all that alcohol that gave you a headache,” Georgia said, very pointedly when he collapsed onto the couch in between us. He made a grunting sound and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the couch.

“Why didn’t you just stay in bed?” I asked.

“I told you, I can’t sleep anymore!” he snapped back. I rolled my eyes and got up out of my seat, making my way to the kitchen to get some water. I laughed when I heard Georgia making a hissing noise – like a cat.

“Too angry?” Dimitri asked, his hands covering his face.

“Yep.”

He wiped his face roughly with both hands. “Stepping back, sorry.”