Unexpected
Everybody that knows me knows that I am far from a morning person.
Awakening from a serene slumber into a blurred sense of reality is definitely not my ideal, much less what I look forward to. I always kind of envy those people who can wake up and think of nothing but the beautiful possibilities of the day ahead, of what they’re going to do and who they’re going to see. The word I’m looking for is positivity. These people have positivity in the mornings, and it’s a shame to say that I . . . well, I am the polar opposite. On a normal morning I am a sight for sore eyes, but on this morning in particular? Well this one is something spectacular.
Let’s just say that I don’t usually wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. Twice.
I release a loud groan as I open my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a headache of such ferocity before. What the hell have I done to myself to cause this kind of pain? I sit myself up in my covers, squinting as my eyes adjust to the morning light, only to regret it completely. When I scan my surroundings, my breath hitches in my throat. This isn’t my room. The scent of cologne hangs in the air. The navy walls, the bed, the lamp – all of it is familiar to me. A warm presence is sleeping soundly beside me.
I’m in Alec’s bed.
I cuss loudly, pushing the covers off me as soon as I realise. I claw the interior of my mind for anything, any information as to why I’m here. There was a party last night, but that’s all I can remember. I’ve woken up with the world’s worst hangover, albeit clothed, in Alec Wilde’s bed. I’m praying to God that this doesn’t mean what I think it does. I cautiously push the covers back from his sleeping form. He’s shirtless. I cuss again.
Panic bubbles tauntingly in my gut. How long have I been asleep? My mom is going to freak. I look down at the clothes I’m wearing. Baggy leggings and a male’s shirt.
Fudge.
“What’s with all the swearing?” Alec mumbles drowsily. He turns to face me, squinting in the light. His hair is messy and his exposed chest is tanned, and as angry and scared as I feel right now, part of me wants to curl up in his arms and fall back to sleep.
“You grasshole,” I hiss at him, enraged. “How could you take advantage of me like that? I don’t know what the hell happened last night, but for you to—”
“Jeez, turn the volume down a few decibels,” Alec grumbles, pushing himself up to sit next to me, leaning against the headboard. I daren’t look at him, focusing instead on the white covers in front of me. How on earth did I let myself get into this? I don’t remember drinking much at all. How did I even get here?
I force myself to speak calmly.
“What happened?”
“Of course you don’t remember.” Alec rolls his eyes. He sighs for a few seconds. “Let’s just say you got completely hammered last night. You didn’t want to go home because your mom would be angry, so Violet dropped you back here with me. And I promised her I’d look after you.”
“Why am I in your bed?”
“Well, actually, you specifically requested to sleep on the sofa so that’s where I left you,” Alec says with a yawn. “You slept down there for less than an hour, and then came into my room at about 3 a.m. and climbed into bed with me. When I tried to go downstairs, you started crying. You pinned me down and fell asleep and, well, here we are now.” He gestures at the two of us, lying in bed together. I can hardly believe what I’m hearing right now. What got into me?
“I’m sorry,” I croak. My throat is dry, and frankly, I have no idea what else to say. First of all, he had the decency to take me home after I apparently obliterated myself on alcohol. Then, he leant me clothes and put me to sleep, only for me to climb into his bed in the middle of the night and try to spoon him? I thought even my drunk self had a little more dignity than that.
Alec finally turns to look at me properly. “How are you feeling?”
“Not fantastic,” I mutter. “Hangover symptoms. I told you drunk Riley wasn’t fun.”
“I don’t know, I thought it was pretty amusing to be honest,” he teases. Pushing the sheets back entirely now, he shuffles down to the end of the bed and climbs over my feet. His bare feet, bed head and sweatpants make him look frustratingly adorable as he stands and looks at me. I must have drunk a lot.
“I’ll give you a minute to sort yourself out while I grab some breakfast. I woke up earlier and called your mom to let her know you were okay. She’s called you in late for school, so we’ve got a bit of time. She wants to speak to you as soon as you’re ready.” Yawning and tousling his hair, he steps out of the room and I’m left alone, my impending doom settling in on me.
I climb out of the bed and stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is sloppy, my make-up smudged around my eyes, but what is really striking is the soft expression on my face. As much of a son of a biscuit Alec can be at times, there’s no denying that he’s got a sweet side. Not many people would do so much for a girl who completely embarrassed herself. I tame my hair into submission with my fingers, doing the best I can to remove my make-up with a dry tissue from the box on Alec’s nightstand. The rest can wait until I get home.
Alec comes in after about five minutes, carrying a tray complete with toast, pills, orange juice and two cups of coffee. I perch daintily on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to say when I have so many questions running through my mind. Alec sets the tray between us and instantly reaches for a piece of toast.
“You should eat, Greene,” he says, through a mouthful.
I pick up the coffee and hold the warm mug in my hands. “So where’s your mom? Where’s Millie? Do they know I’m here?”
“Mom left early to go to work; she dropped Millie at kindergarten. I guess we’re lucky that she didn’t walk in this morning – she might have had quite a shock.”
“You’re going to keep this from her?”
“She would kill me if I told her.”
“Fair enough,” I say. I sense that he may want to change the subject. “I must have really gone overboard if I can’t remember anything.”
“You were pretty bad. You said it was because you didn’t like parties.”
“That seems about right,” I murmur. I think about last night and begin to remember slightly – at some point I decided it was a great idea to drink myself through the ordeal. I was also upset that Alec wasn’t talking to me, even though I had no real reason to be. Mental note: you need to stop that. I guess it just spiralled.
“My mom will never let me go to a party again,” I think aloud.
To be honest, this has deterred me from another party anytime soon anyway. I’ll stay at home next time. Nothing good ever happens to me at parties. I reach for the pills and gulp them down quickly, not quite sure how something so small can prevent the throbbing in my head but willing to give it a shot. I pause. “They’re not laxatives or something, are they?”
Alec snorts on his orange juice. “Jesus, Riley, talk about kicking you while you’re down. No, it’s just aspirin! That would have been good, though . . .”
We chew on our toast in silence, both of us lost in thought about the events of last night. I feel so uncomfortable. I hate that he saw me like that.
“I need to speak to her,” I say finally, standing up. I can’t begin to describe how touched and surprised I am by Alec’s actions. Never in a million years did I think he would do any of those things for me. The breakfast, taking me home. None of it.
“Okay, come back when you’re ready and I’ll drive you to school.”
I hesitate for a second as he stands up.
“Hey, Alec?” I say. As he looks at me, his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Thank you,” I continue, before shyly leaning forward to give him a hug. “You know . . . for taking me home and stuff. Dealing with me.”
He stands frozen for a second as he evaluates the situation, but slowly his arms wrap round my back and he squeezes tightly.
“You’re welcome, Greene.”
“Mom?” I call as I open our front door, taking hesitant steps into the hallway. “Are you still here? I’m home.”
“Riley?”
Her voice rings out from the kitchen and it doesn’t sound too happy. I brace myself for the inevitable and shut the door behind me with a click. All I have on me is my clutch and last night’s clothes, and I’m wearing a pair of Marie’s leggings and an oversized T-shirt belonging to Alec. Heaven knows what she’s going to say to me. I can only hope that Alec’s explanation this morning has helped to ease some of the anger.
A moment later, the monster herself emerges with nostrils flared and a phone clutched in her hand. “What happened to you last night?” she fumes. “I told you to go easy on the drink, and stupidly I assumed you would listen to me and stay safe. You know that drinking isn’t good for your anxiety, and you’re also underage! Then I get a call from Alec this morning telling me you’re passed out and hungover, and you’re going to be late for school! What were you thinking? I was so worried!”
“Mom,” I say, clutching my head and wincing, “I’m really sorry, but please don’t shout.”
Mom blatantly disregards my plea, and glares at me. “What happened to you?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?” She curses aloud. “Did you really drink that much?”
“I don’t remember drinking much at all,” I say in my own defence. “I just remember feeling uncomfortable and sad, and wanting it to go away.”
“You could have called! I would have come to get you!” Mom’s voice cracks and the expression on her face is one of complete disappointment. I realise quite how much I must have hurt her by doing this, on a night so similar to Kaitlin’s death. By attempting to feel numb, I disregarded her feelings about my safety. I disrespected her simple requests for me to stay safe.
“I’m sorry, Mom, I really am.”
“Don’t do that to me again,” she says finally, turning away. “Listen to me and be careful, or call me. Drinking that much when you’re so vulnerable, and it’s against the law! After what happened with Kaitlin . . . she went to a party and didn’t come back. I need you to stay safe when you’re out. Booze makes people do stupid things – including you. You have no idea of the things going through my –”
“Mom,” I say. Guilt eats away at me. I didn’t even think. I’m so stupid, I’m so freaking stupid. “I’m so sorry, Mom, I didn’t even think. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“You understand there’ll be consequences to this,” Mom warns. “I allowed you alcohol, I told you that you could drink. I expected you to be responsible with what that decision means to me.” Her arms are folded across her chest. She’s dressed for work in a fitted suit with her hair twisted above her head. I stopped her from going to work on time.
“I understand.”
“You’re going to help out more around the house, okay? You want to be treated like an adult, you have to start acting like one.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it – dishwasher, cleaning. Everything.”
“Okay.” I nod. “I’m really sorry, Mom.”
“Yeah me too,” she says with resignation. There are bags under her eyes. She must have not slept very well. “Make sure you say thank you to Alec.”
Then it dawns on her, and her warm expression turns cold once more.
“Riley, is that a boy’s T-shirt?”
“It’s Alec’s T-shirt, so yes, I guess that would mean it belongs to a boy.” I twist my hands together and fiddle with the chain on my clutch.
“Don’t sass me.” Her eyes narrow. “Why are you wearing his T-shirt?”
“Not for the reason you’re thinking.” I make a face, but my cheeks are flushed pink. “He just lent it to me, so I wouldn’t have to wear last night’s clothes. It’s a sweet gesture, that’s all.”
“I don’t want to know about the sweet gestures you two made, Riley.”
“Mother!”
“I know what young kids are like these days, and nobody can deny that you and Alec have chemistry,” she finishes. “I just want a warning if you ever decide to do that stuff, okay?” Mom raises an eyebrow, and I curl further and further into myself at her accusing stare. “Make sure you give him his shirt back. Have you taken any aspirin?”
“Yeah, I’ve had some aspirin,” I say, grateful for the change in topic. “And I will, don’t worry. I need to get changed for school now – I’m late enough already.”
I tug myself away from her, kiss her on the cheek and head to the stairs. If I get to school in the next fifteen minutes, I’ll only have two lessons to catch up on. Something tells me this hangover is going to last for a while and I don’t want to be up late studying tonight.
“Stay hydrated, Riley,” Mom calls up after me. “I’m going to work now. Take it easy today.” I hear the rustle as she collects her bag. The cupboard door slams.
“I will, thanks, Mom,” I call down from the top step, still cringing at the previous conversation. “I love you! Have a good day at work!”
“Have I ever mentioned to you that I don’t have a death wish?” I say, biting my lip as I stare at the death trap on which Alec is currently sitting.
“You want a ride to school, don’t you?” he retorts, patting the seat behind him on the motorcycle. “Hurry your sweet ass up and get on the bike, Riley.” I continue to stand there staring doubtfully at him, and he releases a groan before repeating his actions. I’ve never thought about motorcycles personally – with my lack of balance I’ll be lucky if I manage to even stay on the bike. My mind screams in protest, but the only alternative is to walk to school on my own, and I’m too lazy and too late for that right now. Begrudgingly, I walk towards my doom and slide on behind Alec. He passes me a helmet, and I can practically feel the smugness radiating off of him.
“You ready?” he asks, as I clip the helmet on.
I wind my arms round his waist and squeeze my eyes shut. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The vehicle roars beneath me, coming alive, and the next thing I know we’re reversing back onto the road. I clutch Alec for dear life as we turn, and his muscles tense at the contact. With one final roar, the acceleration kicks into gear and we’re off. My hair streams behind me like a banner, the wind silencing my cries of surprise. It’s scary, but at the same time exhilarating – I didn’t think I’d be able to experience both of those things simultaneously for a very long time. It makes me feel excited, and my embarrassment about last night drifts away. I’m proud that I managed to do this. My heart is in my throat.
“This is awesome,” I shout to the boy in front of me.
He nods furiously in reply. Resting my head against his back, I watch fascinated as the Lindale scenery rushes by. Trees and large stone houses, neat sidewalks and dog walkers rush by, until I recognise the familiar roads leading up to the school. My abdomen seems to contract with nerves at the prospect. What will people say if they see me and Alec walking in together this morning? Especially if we left together last night. Acting spontaneously, I tap Alec’s shoulder and call for him to stop the bike.
He glances back at me in concern but obediently pulls over to the side of the road. Ice runs down my spine. Once we’ve stopped, he turns round in his seat, frowning. I swing my legs back over from the seat and hitch my schoolbag up on my shoulder, handing him back the helmet.
“What are you doing? Don’t you want to get to school?” Alec asks me.
I shake my head, looking down at my feet. “I think it’s better if I walk from here.”
“Why?” Alec asks.
“Alec, what will people say if we walk in together this morning?”
To my surprise, Alec’s eyebrows shoot up and he stares at me in hurt. I hurriedly try to patch up my mistake. “I mean, you have a reputation –”
“I get it,” he interrupts me icily, every trace of emotion now extinct from his expression. “Can’t have me tainting your perfect little track record, can we?” He laughs, but the sound is bitter. “Whatever, Riley. I’ll see you at school.”
I watch in shock as he puts his helmet on, kick-starts the bike and rides away.
“Wait, Alec . . .”
But he’s gone before I can even finish my sentence.
The day passes slowly without Alec, as much as I hate to admit it.
Seeing him around school, he either doesn’t notice me or pretends not to. I should’ve known that the nice treatment I was shown this morning was a one-time thing. It’s frustrating that when he acts like he doesn’t care about me, it’s okay, but the minute it appears like I don’t care about him – he shuts off completely.
I relay my fears to Violet as we sit in the canteen at lunch, but she merely scoffs at my worries. “He’s manstruating and being stupid, Riley. He doesn’t deserve you to care so much. He’ll realise that he overreacted and come running back to you, I promise, and then you can make babies and everything will be swell.”
“Aside from the ‘making babies’ part, I hope so.” I stab a piece of pasta with my fork, eyeing it up without actually planning to eat it. “I hate that I care so much about what he thinks of me. I’ve only just met the guy, I don’t need this extra anxiety in my life.”
“Then try not to let it affect you – you haven’t done anything wrong, Riley. You’ve been doing so well recently.”
“That’s true,” I admit.
Violet stirs her milkshake with the straw. We’re sat at the very edge of the canteen, at our usual table. It’s slightly quieter here. “I actually have a proposition for you. It’s something good – a distraction, and I honestly think you’re ready for it.”
Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good.
“You see,” she explains, “a friend of a friend is looking for a date this Friday night.”
Here we go.
“Violet, you know I’m not the dating type,” I cut in with a whine. “Let me be single and happy.”
The truth is, dating terrifies me. As a socially awkward teenage girl, with a personal vendetta against dresses, I can just imagine that dating will be my individual version of hell. My last relationship ended miserably, and I can’t relive that all over again.
“Are you happy, though, really?”
“That’s beside the point,” I admit. “I don’t think I can manage it.”
“I know you don’t want to date again after last time,” Violet probes softly, her expression one of sympathy. “I know you miss your cousin, and you hate Toby for what he did. This could be your fresh start, Riley. You have to start somehow, and Kaitlin wouldn’t want you to stop living just because of how your last relationship ended.”
I scrutinise Violet for a few seconds.
She’s right about one thing. Kaitlin would be so pissed off at me if she knew that I hadn’t moved on since Toby. She’d say that I should start dating again soon anyway, and it’s not like I’m doing too much too fast. It’s just one night. If I hate it, I don’t ever have to do it again.
I hear myself giving in. “Okay. I’ll do it, but if it’s bad then you owe me chocolate.”
“Riley, I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I didn’t think you were ready. And if you do decide to cancel, then I’ll understand.” Violet nods supportively. “I think this is the right thing for you, though. My friend says the guy is really charming and cute. It can’t be that bad, can it?”
“I guess not,” I grumble. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” Violet teases. “Friday night it is.”
I miss Alec Wilde’s presence.
I’ve only known this guy a little while, and already I’ve adapted to having him peppered throughout my day. Somehow, the fact that he’s a player and that he pranks me constantly has been removed from my consciousness. Am I just another brainwashed fangirl to him now? I can feel myself slowly growing irritated at him. Irritated that he is allowed to treat me badly, but he gets angry when he misunderstands a simple sentence coming from me? It’s conceited of him and hardly fair, yet still I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I miss him. I don’t know why, or how, I just do.
Sitting here in Psychology, I can’t help but let my mind stray back over to the incident this morning, as it has been doing all day. I feel bad, but I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t care about what he thinks of me. I shouldn’t let him affect me so much. I bite my lip, playing with the end of a chewed pencil.
I shouldn’t have even cared enough about his reputation to tell him to stop that bike.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts – I really can’t be dealing with this right now. I’ve got a Philosophy test coming up next period, and I can’t afford to be distracted. I’m not a straight-A student naturally; I have to work hard for my decent grades. For Chrissakes, I’ve been studying for a week and I am not risking this grade over a stupid little falling-out. I stare intensely at the whiteboard, trying hard to absorb what the teacher is saying, but I can’t help but be distracted by a certain pair behind me.
“Mr Wilde! Miss Wilson!” Miss King shrieks from the front of the classroom. “Pay attention!” He’s sitting at the back of the room with Minnie Wilson. They’re leaning in close, very close, talking. My grip tightens on my pencil.
“So, what’s going on between you and Alec?” I look up, just as Dylan slides into the seat next to me with a concerned expression. “Obviously something’s gone wrong.” He checks that the teacher isn’t watching us, but luckily she is now typing on her computer. No doubt she’s emailing the principal but at least the angry colour is fading from her face. The class is free to talk, so long as we do the work set.
“Where do I even begin?”
“Uh oh.” Dylan grimaces. “So he is avoiding you then.”
“Like the plague,” I grunt.
“I’m sure you guys will make up eventually, but in the meantime you still have me to talk to.”
“He needs to let me explain.” I exhale sharply, before going on to describe the events of this morning. Dylan’s eyebrows raise further into his hairline the more I talk, but by the end he looks much more assured and confident. That makes one of us, I guess.
“Don’t worry,” he reassures me. “I’ll speak to him and explain what you meant. In future, though, I think you need to learn that Alec doesn’t give a crap what people think of him. If he wants to give you a ride to school, he will.” Dylan reveals his teeth in a winning smile – the kind that makes mere mortals like me swoon. If there’s ever a boy who embodies sweet, attractive, clever and funny, it’s Dylan Merrick.
“Thanks, Dylan,” I say, grateful for his wisdom.
“Okay, so that’s what’s up with Alec. What about killer queen over there in the corner?” He subtly motions to Tiana, who’s been sitting in the back glaring at me for the entire lesson. I’ve kind of grown used to her cool glower every time I turn my head, but I shift uncomfortably when Dylan questions it. “What’s her problem with you?”
“She’s hated me ever since I wore the same dress as her to one of our formals,” I bluff, not meeting Dylan’s eyes. There’s no way I’m getting into the Toby incident with Dylan. No way. “She glares but she never does anything about it. I don’t even realise she’s doing it any more.” The last bit is true, at least. But as if I’d ever wear the same style of dress as Tiana. To me, my lie is clear as water, but Dylan doesn’t notice a thing.
“Wow, okay.” Dylan frowns. “She’s very superficial. How could she not like you for that?”
“Yup,” I mumble in agreement, then hurriedly change the subject. “Anyway, enough about me. How are you? Any exciting plans for this weekend?”
“Not really.” He clicks his tongue. “What about you?”
“I’m going on a blind date actually.” I force out a laugh, and observe Dylan’s hoarse cough at the statement. I guess it is shocking that I actually have a social life, considering I’m a socially awkward monster.
“So you’re on the hunt for a man, Riley Greene?”
“Maybe, yeah. I’m not sure.” I bite the end of my pencil.
“Who are you going on a blind date with?” Dylan asks, and I give him a blank look. “Dumb question.” He curses his mistake. “Forget I asked.”
I chuckle a little bit at Dylan’s dumb moment, but the truth is that not even he can cheer me up while I know that Alec is still angry.
And I have to do something to fix this.