Dear Diary, it wasn't love

13

Dear Diary,

Looking at the clock now, it is nine-thirty. I have half-hour to get to class, and I haven't even left my bed.

Looks like I'm skipping.

I shut off any outstanding alarms and pull the covers over my head. I am so over this day, already.

"Capri Salinger! You will be late to your first class ever if you are not out of bed in–" Perri screams from the hallway before barging-into my bedroom and looking wide-eyed and completely shocked at the sight of me in bed.

"Oh my God. You're still in bed? Cap! Get up! Get up right now!" she shouts just before pulling my blanket off of my body.

I groan and tug it back up.

She doesn't like that.

"Perri, I'm not going."

Now she takes a seat at the foot of my bed because she must be genuinely concerned.

"How bad was it, babe?"

I groan, again. I sit up against my headboard and look at her.

"I have no idea what the fuck happened, Perri. I was enjoying myself at dinner with Nathan - he was kind-of perfect, actually – then I see Rhett in our apartment drunk out of his mind. How did he even get in here? Why didn't you answer my calls?"

Seriously, I left her many voicemails.

"After the game, I suggested that the guys can come over to our place to celebrate. Jasper and I were headed here anyways, so why not invite them. In all honesty, Ryder looked crushed when you walked away so I figured he could use some good-company. There was alcohol; a lot of it. Jasper made me go with him to get some food so that we could sober up, but Ryder said he would be fine staying there until we got back. Then, well, you know the rest..." she shares a sympathetic smile with me.

So, she did get my voicemails.

"He was terrible. I mean, by now you would figure that I've accustomed myself to it, but he was different."

"Cap, he was drunk, and upset. Don't hold that against him." She places one hand on my leg and squeezes. "Now, come on. Let's get going."

I shake my head. "I'm staying-in today. There's a first for everything."

"And what do you suppose avoiding him will do? You're going to see him tomorrow night, anyways," she-so annoyingly reminds me.

I'm not saying that I forgot about tomorrow night's event, but I would be lying if I said that I hadn't thought about faking a stomach-flu to get out of going...

"I'll see you after you're done your classes," I tell her before I throw the blanket back over my head and signal for her to leave.

I can hear her sigh at the same time her weight shifts from my bed. I know that she doesn't agree with me right now, but she doesn't have to. This is complicated and uncharted territory for us two.

First time for everything.

...And that's the door.

**

By the time I get myself out of bed, complete my morning – now, evening – routine, and make myself some chicken-salad, I have come to the conclusion that I might just become depressed if this continues.