Chapter 7 Hangover Confessions

Bárbara Hendler

When my alarm went off the next morning, before I even opened my eyes or managed to download my soul into my body, I felt like I had been run over: my muscles ached and felt heavy, my joints didn’t seem to function properly and… well, I was a complete mess. But nothing was worse than the headache.

Except, maybe, the moral hangover from everything that had happened the day before.

It was supposed to have been just a normal game day, and it had ended with a kiss with my neighbor, a fight with Declan, and a late-night conversation through notes while I pretended I wasn’t crying my eyes out.

My eyes took forever to adjust to the daylight, and it took far more effort than it should have to stretch my arm and turn off my phone, which was blasting Baby One More Time louder and louder — normally it would have made me excited and I’d wake up singing along, but that day I could have easily thrown the phone out the window just to shut Britney Spears up.

I slapped my hand against a slightly crumpled piece of paper as soon as I managed to put my phone back in place. “Worth a kiss,” I read, on my bedside table, in the surprisingly beautiful handwriting of Nicolas Herrera.

On the other hand, there wasn’t a single message from Declan on my phone to fix the mess from the day before and…

Jessica, already perfectly dressed for her classes and smelling like lavender soap and expensive perfume, opened the door holding a cardboard tray with two coffee cups. We were probably opposites in every possible way: she, with not a single strand of hair out of place and far too pretty to just be a university student heading to, I don’t know, traumatology class; me, on the other hand, feeling like my hair was pointing in every direction, my mouth tasted like death, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t managed to wash off all my makeup in the shower the night before, because I had been slightly drunk and my stomach kept twisting at the smell of my shampoo.

“So you didn’t die,” Jessica said, placing one of the coffees on my bedside table — her way of saying it was mine.

I rubbed my eyes.

“There are debates,” I shot back, grabbing the takeaway cup and breaking the seal. The sweet, strong smell filled the room, and Jessica only raised a perfect eyebrow. “How ridiculous was yesterday’s mess?”

She broke the seal of her own cup and took a sip.

“Very ridiculous,” she answered.

Simple. Straight to the point.

Then she set her coffee down on the counter and grabbed her backpack, stuffing inside an iPad with a white, baby blue and pink case and a few books — she looked soft and delicate from a distance.

“I shouldn’t have kissed Nicolas,” I said, and she looked at me for a second with an expression that clearly said “congratulations on the revelation, you idiot,” before going back to organizing her stuff. I covered my face with my hands. “I just wanted Declan to get jealous and realize I’m the woman of his life, not think I’m some kind of bitch who doesn’t care.”

“But wasn’t he kissing another girl?” Jessica asked, without much interest, as if she were casually telling me one of us needed to take out the trash from the counter. “Actually, I think it was more than one.”

“More than one?” I repeated like a parrot, and Jessica shrugged.

“He’s an idiot.” She pulled a blister pack from her bag and threw it at me. I tried to catch it mid-air, but with my synapses still severely impaired, it hit my face instead. Jessica rolled her eyes — she had no patience for pathetic people, which was definitely my case at that moment. “But, if it helps, I heard he’ll have to go a while without kissing anyone after Justice wrecked his face.”

“Justice did what?” I asked.

My sleep-deprived neurons seemed to protest against the sudden shock, but I didn’t care. This mess was Justice’s fault, right? He was the one who said I should kiss someone! Of course, he only gave the idea and I was the one who executed it, but intellectual authorship still counts. “Oh my God, Jessica, Declan is never going to want to see my face again, not even painted in gold!”

I grabbed my phone in a panic, frantically searching for his contact.

Jessica took it from my hand without much patience and threw it onto her neatly made bed, covered with a cartoon-patterned duvet.

“It’s a favor he’s doing for you, Barbara,” she said. “And at least try to drink your coffee and take a shower before deciding whether you should humiliate yourself before eight in the morning.”

“It’s not about humiliating myself! I hurt Declan and I need him to understand it’s not going to happen again and… and… I like him, Jessica, and I’m not going to let him slip through my fingers without even trying!” I said, and my roommate slung her backpack over her shoulders, shaking her head.

“You think I’m wrong?”

“Yes. I think no man is worth you crawling after like that.” She picked up the coffee she had left on the counter and walked to the door. “But honestly, I don’t care.”

And then she left, before I could even thank her for the coffee.

I grabbed my pillow and buried my face in it, muffling a frustrated sound before getting my things to take a shower.