NIRELLE - Chapter 33: Chapter 33

The feeling against my skin is not what I expect it to be; the bar stools were not as soft and comfortable as these are. My mouth feels parched, too parched for that matter. I chew whatever is left in them and scratch the side of my neck until I feel a certain wave of relief wash over me. I stretch my body over until my hands hit the headboard, and my eyes flutter a little as I look around the room.
"How did I get here?" I murmur with a yawn as I sit in bed and look around. My eyes fall on a structure by my side, and fear grips my body. My mind is telling me that I am not alone in the room, but my eyes refuse to believe what I have just seen.
I rub viciously against my eyes as if it is supposed to change the outcome somehow. I look again and stare at the figure sleeping so peacefully in my bed. If I were not in a state of frenzy, I would have thought to look at how cute he was when asleep and watch the rising and falling of his chest.
I poke his shoulders, and he reacts by turning to face me. I want to scream, and I even imagine my mouth opening, but nothing comes out. I poke his shoulders again, but this time with so much effort that it is almost aggressive. I watch his eyes flutter open gently at a time. His eyes meet mine, and he just stares, no reaction.
"What are you doing here?" I managed to pull out my voice after a slight gulp. He blinks again as if I am the one talking nonsense.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, sitting up in bed. The blanket over his shoulders fell to his waist to reveal that he had been wearing the same thing he wore to the bar last night. "Do you not remember anything?" he asked, and I shook my head.
"Did I do anything stupid?"
"Are you serious?" He is now standing at the edge of the bed with his head tilted at me.
"Of course I am serious; all I remember yesterday was having..." I trail off to avoid having to call the name, as it makes me uncomfortable.
"You were extremely drunk," he adds, and I find it hard to believe. "If you knew you were such a lightweight, why did you drink so much?"
"How was I supposed to know I was lightweight? This is the first time I am drinking ever," I say, and he blinks, maybe trying to remember me telling him this last night.
"Right," he says with a nod. I can't believe how calm he is when my heart is beating faster than I can keep track. I feel it ramming against my ribcage, and a silent ringing in my ears.
"You've not answered my question, Test. What are you doing here?"
"If you can't remember, I don't want to remind you," he says, walking to the door.
"Did I do something..." I stop talking when the door slams, leaving me alone in the room. I take off the blanket from my body and walk to the door. By the time I open it, the hallways are empty. I sigh as I get back into the room and sit on the bed; only now that I am alone do I feel the pounding of my head as if someone decided it was a good place to play drums.
"Why does it hurt so much?" I asked, rubbing my temples, hoping that would do the trick. I could not understand why Cory was always drunk if this was what he faced right after. It made no sense; I almost always saw him drunk, so how could he be so used to it? I glance at the time and realise that it might be breakfast time soon.
"I know I just woke up, but I really want to just lie in bed until this stops," I say, dropping to my back and facing the ceiling. I try my best to remember something from last night, but nothing comes to mind. The last thing I can remember is forcing Lucien to take a glass of drink and him complying to do so. "How hard have I embarrassed myself?"
I close my eyes and try to take my mind off what I had done. It was not that I did not want to know what happened; it was just that it felt too hard to try and remember. If it would be of use to me, then I am sure that it would come back; otherwise, goodbye memories. Just when I think I am getting comfortable, a knock on the door draws my attention.
I stare at the door and wonder if it is worth it to stand and go there to get the door.
"Mrs. Vexley?" The voice belongs to a staff member. I groan in pain as I sit up and then casually walk to the door, pulling it open. She stands there with a smile on her face and a tray in her hand.
"What is this?" I asked, seeing how loaded the tray was. She looks down at it and nods gently.
"Mr. Vexley asked me to bring all of this up; he says it would be good for your hangover." I don't know why it pissed me off. He should have brought it up himself if he cared about me.
"This is a lot," I say, and he does not respond to that at all. I step aside, and she moves into the room, placing the tray onto the table.
"Mr. Vexley is really worried about you." I look at her, wondering if Lucien asked her to say that when she got in, but she looks truly concerned. "You were very drunk last night," she adds. I don't know why, but I want to desperately ask her what happened last night; maybe she saw or heard anything that might be useful to me.
"If you need anything else, you can ask me," she said before giving me a small head bow and walking out of the room immediately. I stare at the tray, and I am even more pissed. Does he really care or what? What was I supposed to read into this now? He stormed out while I was still talking and then went to prepare an entire tray of things so I could get better.
I sit on one of the chairs and pull the table closer before I begin to pour myself a cup of whatever is in the jug. The gingery smell fills the entire room, and I take a quick sip of it, feeling the minty cool liquid fill my mouth with pleasure. The ginger burnt down my throat. The mint cooled it after. Just like him, heat and chill in the same breath.
"Why do you care if he cares, ?"