I Object [gxg]

8. The Morning After: Worst Pizza Ever Edition

This time when I wake, I take a long, deep breath, savoring the knowledge that I'm completely alone in my bed. The air is so fresh. No smell of alcohol-tinged sweat clinging to the sheets. Just me and my cheap, broke-undergrad laundry detergent.

I sit up. It's only ten o'clock. I know from my previous attempts at this day that Nessa comes home shortly after eleven, so I have time to be productive before she arrives. The day is full of endless possibilities, none of which are Nessa meeting Connor.

It's strange that after so many years of feeling lonely in crowds, I'm content right here, with no one else around.

I hop out of bed, feeling lighter than I ever have in this town. The memory of what I did to Nessa the last time around at her wedding only slows me down a fraction. It doesn't matter anymore, right? I'm doing it over again. It will never happen.

I sit down at my desk and open my laptop. I have an essay due this week—I vividly remember failing it in the aftermath of last night's party—and I don't know if tomorrow's me will remember this, but I might as well leave her a present while I feel like I can do anything.

First, though, I google the Ethics of Star Trek. It is, indeed, a course offered at the university. I make a note for future me. Maybe she'll appreciate that, as well.

The hour flies by like my fingers on the keyboard. I'm so engrossed in my work that Nessa's arrival surprises me almost as much as it did when I was with Connor.

"Are you working?" she asks as she lugs her suitcase through the door.

I lean back, draping my head over the chair's headrest to stare at her upside down. "Why are you so surprised?" I pout, pretending to be insulted.

She just laughs. "You are awfully chipper for the day after St. Patty's."

I jump up from my chair. "Do you need help unpacking? That's a lot of stuff."

Make no mistake. One bulging suitcase is a lot of stuff for a college student.

"Leave it." She waves a dismissive hand over the luggage and instead flops down on my bed. "Celebrating St. Patrick's Day in an Irish family is exhausting."

"I guarantee half of campus feels the same way right now," I point out. "If they're even awake yet."

"True," she concedes. "Ugh, I'm starving."

"How does pizza sound?"

She closes her eyes. "Heavenly."

I grin. This is the perfect day we should have had when she got home. "I'll order. What do you want on it?"

"Everything." With a groan, she sits up. "Thank you. I'm going to go shower. I look like a swamp thing."

"You do not," I protest weakly, but she's already gathering her things and out the door before I can tell her she looks beautiful.

I order the pizza and then lay down on my bed with a magazine to wait. My own stomach is growling now, and it doesn't help when I come across a full-page Taco Bell ad.

"You're drooling," Nessa informs me when she returns, her hair hanging in wet strings and soaking through the collar out her shirt.

"At least it's not over a guy," I joke.

"True."

I can't help staring as she puts her shower caddy away and starts brushing her hair. She looks a thousand times better in her baggy sweatpants than in a wedding dress. I wish I could tell her she doesn't need to cover up the freckles that dot her nose or straighten the unruly curls out of her hair, because those are the things that make her perfect.

The knock on the door makes me jump, but I try to cover it up by flipping a page in my magazine.

"Can you get that?" Nessa asks with her head halfway in her closet.

"Sure." I throw the magazine down and stand up as eager as she is for this pizza. To this day—or, I guess, the day that I can't seem to live past, the day of the wedding—it's still the best pizza I've ever eaten.

I pull the door open and stop dead. "No way."

Connor stares back at me over a box of pizza.

"No!" I hiss. "You are not allowed to be the pizza delivery guy!"

"I...am paid to do it?" I hear the question in his voice, and I pretend it's uncertainty about his own job rather than my mental state.

"What do I have to do to get you to stay away from us?" I exclaim.

"I—I—"

I can't even blame him for not having a reply, because as far as he knows, this is the first time we've met. I doubt he remembers last night's five seconds of conversation.

"What's taking so long?" Nessa asks. "Did you lose your wallet again? Here, let me—"

"I thought you weren't decent!" I shout, hoping Connor's morals will pull him back from the doorway and Nessa's confusion will keep her inside.

"Don't be silly, I—"

She falls into silence behind me, and my stomach falls through the floor.

"Hi," she says, already a little breathless.

I see the goofy grin on Connor's face before I even look at him. It's the same one I always see every time he looks at her.

"Hi," he echoes.

Damn cute freckles and thick, rippling silky hair that looks just as good limp and tangled as it does styled. Is this karma for falling in love with the perfect girl? That everyone else does, too?

"MAGNETS!"

My scream of frustration shatters their moment, and they both stare at me as I look to the ceiling for answers it doesn't hold.

"Um, Lana, are you okay?" Nessa ventures.

"Great," I manage. "Amazing."

"Sorry," I hear her murmur to Connor, pulling out entirely too much money and telling him to keep the change. "Thank you."

I flop down on my bed and don't move when I hear the door close. A few moments later, the tempting aroma of pizza fills my nostrils, but I don't get up. The gnawing, empty pit in my stomach has just been filled with cement.

"Lana? Don't you want pizza?" Nessa prompts.

"I'm not hungry," I say. I've never been more disgusted by the thought of food—and I once ate the toast she left in the toaster oven for five minutes on broil, just so it wouldn't go to waste.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"I did too much homework," I joke, but it's a fragile one. My laugh is as hollow as my heart.

* * *

Alright, I'm curious—if you got stuck in a time loop that included at least one meal, what would you want it to be? 😆