I'm Restless, Obsessed With Your Future

She wakes up rather suddenly, and she doesn’t understand why. There wasn’t an alarm—in fact, it’s 11:24 a.m., a pretty late time for her to wake up. She hasn’t had a bad dream (Then again, she thinks to herself. People rarely remember their dreams). Nevertheless, the second she opens her eyes, she immediately possesses enough energy to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. She begins brushing her teeth. Brushing her hair. Washing her face. She looks at herself and frowns. “Yikes,” she says out loud. There are days when she doesn’t bother with foundation and only puts on eyeliner and mascara; this is not going to be one of those days.

Her phone buzzes from the sink as she straightens her hair. Morgan: Are you coming tonight?

She sighs, continuing to use her flat iron. There are many reasons as to why she does not want to go to a concert tonight. Mostly because her ex-boyfriend is guaranteed to be there. With his new home-wrecking girlfriend. “I honestly don’t remember it,” he had told her. “My friends say she took complete advantage of me and I swear if I had been in control of the situation, I wouldn’t have even thought about hooking up with her.” She believed him, of course, to test herself. He had never given a reason not to and she needed to work out her trust issues. And it was fine. Until she decided to come over one night for help with homework and she found him lying on his bed, on top of his now-girlfriend.

Once she’s done with her hair, she grabs her phone and begins typing as she walks out of the bathroom. i’m still thinking about it, i don’t wanna run into ty. She throws her phone on her bed and begins to search through her drawers. A plain white t-shirt, a pair of skinny jeans, a brown braided belt. She contemplates grabbing socks, but decides not to, figuring (or hoping, rather) that the weather is going to be nice today. She grabs a purse from her desk and makes sure her wallet and key are in there. They are. She grabs the phone off of her bed and reads her new text message. Morgan: Pleeeease. The tickets are free and we’re invited to the afterparty! Besides, fuck ty. ;] She ignores the text and walks out of her room, venturing down the hallway. She stops at room 231 and knocks on the door.

The door opens and Riley is standing there. “What’s up?”

“Are you going to this concert tonight?”

Riley shrugs. “I mean, I might as well. Free drinks. Who’s the band?”

She thinks. “Good question.” She grabs her phone and texts Morgan back. maybe. whos playing? “I asked Morgan,” she tells Riley. “Ty’s supposed to be there.”

“Fuck Ty!” Riley practically screams. “You’re so much better than him, Des.”

Dessa rolls her eyes, forcing a chuckle. “That’s exactly what Morgan said.” Her phone vibrates from her purse, so she grabs it and reads the text. Morgan: All time low. Kind of popular, pretty good actually. Dessa looks back up to say, “All Time Low?”

Riley begins to nod. “I’ve heard of them. Haven’t really listened to them.”

“Yeah, me neither.” She begins to walk backwards, signaling that she is leaving. “Whatever, I’ll end up going. I know I say ‘maybe’ now, but I’m going. Why not?”

“Good!” Riley smiles. “You didn’t straighten your hair for nothing.” She begins to close the door. “I’ll tell Morgan we’re both going. I’ll see you tonight, I guess.”

Dessa gives a small wave. “See ya.” Riley closes the door shut and Dessa begins to walk to the elevator.

Once she reaches the lobby, she sees a sea of raincoats. She stops herself and turns around to the elevator. So much for flipflops.


His head is pounding. His eyes and mouth are dry. Hangover, he reasons. He can’t recall if he performed yesterday or not. No, he did. In Jersey. He thinks. How else would he be home? The New York show is tonight, isn’t it? He’d have to be close to home in order to be there in one piece. Yeah, the show was in Jersey.

He rolls over and sees his three best friends sprawled out on the floor. Rian is somewhat awake; his eyes are open and his arms are stretched above his body. He can’t seem to find the energy to move much more. Alex and Zach are sound asleep. “Rian!” he whispers, catching Rian’s attention. He doesn’t really have anything to say. The room says enough. He just shakes his head. “This is going to be a bitch to clean.”

Rian sighs in pain as he rolls over. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he says in a quiet, cracked voice. He closes his eyes again.

“Oh, okay,” he says. “You think I’m planning on cleaning this shit up by myself.” He isn’t talking very loud but he manages to wake up Alex.

Alex is not a morning person. Especially after a drunken night. “Jack, shut the fuck up,” he groans. He grabs the nearest pillow and puts his head face-down into it.

Jack turns away from his friends and tries to grab his phone. He checks the time. 12:16. Fuck, he thinks as he forces himself to sit up. He’s more than thankful that he got to sleep on the couch because his body is sore as it is. “Guys, we have to be at the venue in about an hour.”

“Jack! I told you to shut up!”

“Hey, fuck you.” He throws his blanket onto a nearby chair and attempts to stand, but sits back down after realizing that nobody is up yet. “Get the fuck up. We have to clean this shit before we leave.”

Reluctantly, everyone begins to move. Rian is the first to sit up, rubbing his eyes. Then Zack. Rian giggles a little. “Zack, you were hilarious last night.” Zack’s face is completely blank, and both Rian and Jack begin to laugh at him. “Honestly, how much do you remember?”

Zack shakes his head in shame. “The last thing I remember is singing ‘God Bless the USA…’”

“It got worse, dude,” Jack chimes in. “You started the weirdest conversations with us ever…”

Rian laughs again. “You said you wanted to get a sex change to see yourself as a girl.”

Alex lifts his head. “I don’t remember that at all,” he says, finally beginning to move into a sitting position. “I really just remember when we started our third round of pong.”

“Yeah, Alex,” says Zack. “That’s because you’re the skinniest piece of shit I’ve ever seen.” Everyone laughs. Except for Alex.

“Oh, so Jack isn’t skinny.”

“Well, I’m taller, and you’re still skinnier.” Jack stretches his arm and stands, hearing bones crack. “Start cleaning. I’m gonna get changed.”

He turns towards his bedroom door and everyone begins to move a little quicker. He faintly hears Alex claim that he had “at least” five shots before they started playing beer pong, making his blackout logical. But Jack can barely be bothered. He opens the door as fast as he can and closes it just as fast. He leans against the door and sighs, looking up to the ceiling. There’s a glow-in-the-dark star that he doesn’t remember placing there. There’s also a stain from Zack’s puke from about a year ago. How that got on the ceiling, nobody can quite explain, but it’s there. Jack looks around for cans of empty Budweiser and finds two by his bed stand. He grabs them both and puts them in the trashcan by his closet. He also grabs a bottle of water that is half-full and drinks the whole thing in less than five seconds. Fucking hangovers, he thinks to himself.

His phone buzzes from his pocket and he checks to see who his text is from. Danielle: hey havent seen u in a while. lets meet up! :) He’s pissed. She would. She would have the nerve to send a text like that. To even talk to him. She just would. He just puts the phone on his bed stand and begins to undress, searching his closet for new clothes. He’s not going to bother with her. Not today, not this week, this month, this year, not ever.

Or, at least, not today.