*earlier that morning*
"I'M ON SHROOOOOOOMS! LAA, LA LA LA-" I flailed my arms out from under my body, taking a second out to wince from the insane pins and needles tingling throughout my fingers and shoulders. Eventually I managed to locate my mobile, which was still in my clutch from last night, which was still around my arm (which took a lot longer to find because aforementioned arms felt like jelly). Urgh, was it morning already? It only felt like two hours since we were having a good time in the club...and then it all got quite fuzzy and now I've lying here in the hotel room be-
I'm not in bed. I'm on the floor. And I'm still wearing the same clothes from last night...
I slowly heaved myself up, groaning inwardly at the pain from lying on my chest for the last goodness knows how many hours. Urgh. Urgh urgh urgh. I squinted in the mirror hanging on the wall, and the following questions came to mind:
1. Why is my head ringing like it is under construction from a thousand tiny road workers?
2. Did I kiss somebody last night? Because this is stay-all-night lippy left on my mouth, and it’s smudged. Like I’ve snogged somebody. It’s not meant to smudge. Unless the lovely people at Rimmel were lying to me. “Get theLondonlook”…Yeah, I’m onto you.
3. Why did I even want the London look? I’m in Paris for crying out loud!
4. Wait WHO did I kiss? If I did kiss somebody… I don’t like how veiled my memory of last night is.
5. Where the hell is Mels? Because she isn’t in her bed and the bathroom door’s closed and OH MY DAYS WHAT IF THERE IS A RAPIST IN THERE. Wait. Wait no it would be more probable if Mels were in there. I hope.
6. Do I smell cottage-? No, I must be going crazy. Why would there be cottage cheese in the room? Because people don’t just leave cottage cheese in hotel rooms…unless that’s how they roll in France. In which case, why would they choose the most disgusting food known to man? Unless the French are like, devoid of tastebuds, or something…
At this point Mels (thankfully not a rapist) came from the bathroom. Gah, I hate how she never looks at all hung over. Well I don’t want her to look bad, cos, yknow, she’s my best friend, I wouldn’t wish evil on her. I just wish she wasn’t so perky…
“Oh good, you’re awake. Ethan came in three times asking whether we were ready-also if we’d seen his glasses, poor thing….”
“…Ready? For…breakfast?” I stumbled over my heels- stupid stilettos, just sitting there being shoes. They have it so easy, no hangover for the shoes- and rifled through my clothes for some comfortable wear. I had a feeling I would not be enticing les hommes today, which is probably a good thing because all flirt and no socialising with friends makes Erica a dull girl.
“No, ‘Ca, we had breakfast an hour ago I’m afraid. I saved you a banana?” She held it up and smirked at the face I pulled. Urgh, healthiness. “We’ve got to get out in like twenty minutes to get the train, remember? That’s why we were eating early.”
“Oh yeah, we’re going somewhere aren’t we?” I totally didn’t know where we were going but I smiled at Mels nonetheless. I like how she tells me what we’re doing- how the hell I’m going to manage at uni is beyond me. “Oh, Mels! Can you smell cottage cheese or is it just me going slowly mad?”
“Debatable as to whether you’d already gone mad a long time ago,” she smirked. Cutting. “But yeah I’d imagine you can smell it, you ate enough of the stuff last night.” I caught sight of myself paling considerably in the mirror. “Yeah you made us go into this deli- God knows why it was open that early- and buy a load of the stuff because you said you had a craving for cottage cheese. Which I thought was strange because you hate cottage chee- Erica, are you okay?”
“Excuse me while I go puke.”