013~YOU AGAINST
1586 Words
Aria
I awoke to the harsh reality of my throbbing headache, a persistent reminder of the revelry from the night before. As I attempted to rise from my bed, the room seemed to spin, and I felt an overpowering weakness in my limbs, as though I had been run over by a truck.
This was undoubtedly the worst hangover I had ever experienced.
Struggling to maintain my balance, I staggered towards the door, my hand instinctively pressed against my aching forehead, as if the mere touch could alleviate the pain.
I need painkillers.
Descending the stairs felt like a journey through a minefield, each step a potential hazard threatening to send me reeling.
Upon entering the kitchen, I mumbled a feeble "Good morning" to my parents, who were leaning close to each other.
With a glass in hand, I positioned it under the faucet, allowing the water to cascade into the container. Downing the liquid in one desperate gulp, I couldn't escape the realization that my head felt as if it might split open at any given moment.
In a moment of sheer agony, I couldn't help but release a scream that reverberated through the kitchen. My mother promptly handed me a painkiller, which I begrudgingly accepted, washing it down with another glass of water.
"You should have seen this coming when you went out drinking," my mom, seemingly unimpressed by my disheveled state, said with an arched eyebrow.
My father, perhaps a bit more sympathetic to my plight, guided me to a stool. I slumped onto the seat, laying my head on the cool kitchen island as if seeking solace from the pounding headache.
"My head hurts," I lamented my sorry state, my mother couldn't resist the urge to voice her disapproval, accusing me of overindulging and disturbing the peace of the household in the afternoon.
It was already afternoon?
"Take it easy on her," My father, acting as a buffer between mother and daughter, interjected, advising against shouting.
The kitchen became a battleground of opinions, and I, the hangover-ridden soldier, caught in the crossfire, groaned, wondering if my head could withstand both the internal and external turmoil.
Groaning in frustration, I pleaded with them to cease their bickering, as I was the one suffering the consequences of their bickering.
Still nursing my throbbing head on the kitchen island, I winced as Leah, breezed into the kitchen with a teasing grin.
Leah couldn't resist poking fun at my hungover state, unleashing a barrage of playful comments that only intensified the pounding headache.
"Why does everyone have to be against me this afternoon?" I cried out, my voice a mixture of pain and frustration.
Leah, undeterred by my lament, suddenly shifted her focus. "So, who's the hot guy that brought you back last night?" she inquired, an impish glint in her eyes.
I sat up abruptly trying to piece together the fragments of the previous night.
Fear gripped me as I realized I had forgotten about the events of the night before.
Panic set in. "No, no," I cried, standing up from the stool.
What have I done? Did I make any mistakes?
The anxiety of not being able to recall the details gnawed at me, but simultaneously, the relief of not knowing loomed as a silver lining.
"Who did you go out drinking with, sweetheart?" My father asked, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity.
"Nobody important," I replied hastily, almost sprinting to my room, the headache momentarily forgotten in the face of the brewing panic.
In my room, I located my phone on the dressing table just as it began to ring. Speak of the devil, Lucas's name flashed on the screen, signaling an incoming call. The weight of the unknown loomed as I hesitated to answer.
Fuck! What if I did something embarrassing?
The room fell silent as I held the phone to my ear, nervously awaiting the sound of his voice. The quiet on the other end only intensified my anxiety, and my mind raced with countless thoughts.
Just as my nerves peaked, his deep voice resonated through the phone, sending shivers down my spine. The hairs on my arms stood on end as I closed my eyes, savoring the rich timbre of his voice.
"How's my drunk, Aria, doing?" he teased, his tone laced with amusement.
I couldn't help but blush at the familiarity of his voice. It felt like a warm embrace, a comforting presence amid the remnants of my hangover.
"I didn't do anything weird yesterday, did I?" I asked, my words rushed and filled with hope.
The soft sound of his laughter drifted through the line, setting my senses ablaze. It was deep and velvety, with a touch of playfulness that sent shivers down my spine. I closed my eyes, imagining his face, his warm blue eyes lighting up with joy, his lips curving into a grin.
"Something weird like what?" he teased, leaving room for me to elaborate.
I bit my lip, hesitating to be more direct in my inquiry. The anticipation hung in the air, my heart racing.
"Why don't you come outside and ask me?" he suggested casually.
My confusion deepened.
"I am almost at your door," he added, his words sinking in slowly.
"My door?" I questioned, a mix of surprise and uncertainty in my voice.
"Stand right there," I instructed, and without waiting for further clarification, I sprinted out of my room and down the stairs.
The anticipation built with each step, my heart racing as I ran down.
I heard the doorbell ring, and excitement and nerves clashed within me.
"I got the door!" I screamed from the stairs.
"Why is she so excited about getting the door?" I heard Ivy say, the mixture of curiosity and amusement in her voice.
Racing outside, I opened the door hurriedly, finding Lucas standing there with a grin on his face. Instinctively, I shut the door behind me, turning to him with a hushed demand, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"To see you," he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, leaving me both bewildered and intrigued by his unexpected presence.
"What if my parents see you?" My worried gaze flickered towards the closed door, fearing an unexpected audience that might catch us together.
"Relax, your mom was the one who led me to your room when I brought you back yesterday. Quit acting like we are having an affair although that would be thrilling." He teased, his words laced with a playful edge.
"So, what did I do yesterday?" I inquired, my curiosity mingling with a touch of anxiety.
"You don't remember?" His tone held a hint of hurt, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.
I shook my head, grappling with the gaps in my memory.
He ran a finger across his lips, a gesture that drew my attention involuntarily downward. My thoughts began to swirl, the focus shifting to the tantalizing mystery of what might have happened between us.
The unspoken question lingered in the air, echoing in my mind: Did I kiss him last night?
My lips tingled with the phantom sensation of a kiss-real or imagined, I couldn't be sure.
The subtle aftershocks of a potential connection left me breathless with anticipation.
Engrossed in the memory or fantasy of a kiss, I didn't realize when he closed the gap between us, his presence towering over me.
Damn, he was tall, and I hadn't even noticed how the shirt clung to his body like a second skin. It outlined every curve and contour, revealing the toned and ripped physique beneath. The fabric seemed to mold itself to his form, accentuating the lines that hinted at the strength within.
Oh my God
As he leaned in, the air between us crackled with an unspoken tension. His closeness enveloped me, making me acutely aware of the subtle nuances-the warmth emanating from his body, the scent of his cologne teasing my senses, and the magnetic pull drawing me in.
I felt a flutter in my stomach, a blend of excitement and nerves, as if I stood at the edge of something both thrilling and unknown.
His voice, a low murmur, reached my ears, breaking the spell momentarily. "What are you thinking?" he asked, a playful gleam in his eyes.
I snapped back to reality, my cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and realization."I-I..." I stammered, my thoughts jumbled.
I avoided looking at him, my gaze darting anywhere but at him as I searched for the right answers.
Suddenly, the door behind me opened, startling me. I turned swiftly, and my father stood there, his expression questioning.
"What is taking you so long?" he inquired, his eyes then landing on Lucas, who greeted him with a respectful nod.
"Lucas," my father called, recognizing him.
The unexpected warmth behind me triggered a flutter in my heart, and a small hiccup escaped me, drawing a quiet chuckle from him.
In a courteous gesture, he extended his hand towards my dad, shaking it with a confident grip.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Carter," he said.
My father, unaware of the thick tension in the air, invited Lucas inside.
As he stepped past me, He snapped his fingers in front of my eyes, as if waking me from a daze and mouthed, "You will have to take responsibility for me," before he followed my father into the house.
The door closed behind me, leaving me alone outside, my thoughts swirling with nervousness and uncertainty.
What just happened?
- Writer
