I was sat on my bed, an almost empty bottle of vodka in hand. Funny, last time I looked it was full. I was still sulking. I may have been able to go to other people's places for sex but I couldn't bring anyone home and I didn't go to other people's houses, not after what happened last time.
Robing was getting annoyed with my constant moping. The room was beginning to spin. Oh dear.
When I woke up, I was sat in the desk chair. My laptop was on and I obviously hadn't succeeded at whatever it was I'd tried to do. The phone ran downstairs. One of the others answered it. After a minute or so there was a tentative knock at my door.
"Come in," I groaned.
Kyle opened the door and held out the phone to me without a word. I took it and put it on speaker. I placed it on the desk as Kyle left, shutting the door silently.
"Hello?" I asked quietly, dreading that it was Rody.
"Jaimie?" said a familiar, friendly voice, instantly curing me of my major hangover.
"Carter? What's up?" I asked.
"You've been drinking haven't you?"
"Since when were you psychic?"
"You rang me in the early hours of the morning. Waking me up, I might add. You sounded upset and you know how I worry."
"Just sulking," I mumbled. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine he was here with me.
"Oh dear. Jaimie, please don't make a habit of getting drunk, especially not as drunk as you were last night. You know what happened last time you did that."
I scowled, remembering. "Sorry. I'll try not to."
"Good. Anyway, how's it going?"
"Okay, I guess. I don't think Robin hates me quite as much as she first did."
"I spoke to Kyle," he informed me.
"He seems nice."
"Carter, do not even consider setting me up with him; you know how I feel about relationships."
He sighed sadly. "I know."
"How are you getting on alone?"
"The house is much quieter without you. It's odd. Oh, by the way, I was checking the calender and you have an appointment with Dr. Browne tomorrow at 2:30. Good job you're already in London."
"Hmm," I said, as if that was a good thing.
"I'll leave you to get on with it, Jaimie. Make sure you eat something, please. And no more getting drunk," he admonished me.
"No more getting drunk," I agreed.
He let out the breath he'd been holding. "Goodbye, Jaimie."
I hung up. It was nice to talk to Carter, to have him tell me off like he always did. It was oddly relaxing. I got up, running a hand through my messy hair. I put the phone in its cradle on my way to the kitchen.
I picked up the marker pen and wrote a reminder about my appointment on the small, wall-mounted whiteboard. That was probably going to raise a few questions.