The Blonde Cheerleader

Chapter Forty-One: Raccoon Eyes

I woke up in a tangled mess of sheets with my body encased in a cage known as Gray Martyn's arms. Smiling, I nestled closer to his body, ignoring the sun blaring at us through the glass window with the curtains drawn back.

All peace and quiet was thrown out of the window when I heard a snore.

You see, I've slept and woken up next to Gray for years and one thing I was sure of was that he never snores. Sure, he was a cuddler but not a single sound will escape his lips. So when I heard a few whistling sounds, I started to look around for its source.

And that when was when I felt something shift by my feet. Scrunching up my eyebrows, I leaned up as far as I could without moving away from Gray's grasp. When I finally caught sight of the interruption, I held back a scream when I saw the horror known as Vivian's face in the morning as she peacefully snoozed at the end of the bed.

Oh we all know that those 'just woke up' selfies are damn fake. I'm going to print out a picture for you – hair could be considered as a tumbleweed, make-up all smudged, dress hiking up in her sleep, and let's not to mention the small trail of saliva coming out of her mouth.

Managing to free on of my feet from the blanket, I nudged her using it and the only response I got was a groan, her body flopping to the side so her back was now turned to me. Geez, such poise.

Hold on, when did she get here?

"Hey," I whispered, careful not to wake Gray up. That was proven to be a ruthless attempt when he stirred at the sound of my voice. He didn't get up though, he only hugged me tighter and brought my body closer to his.

This would have been so romantic if my freaking co-captain wasn't squirming by our feet.

"Who is it?" he murmured close to my ear, referring to the body that he has yet to see but he could hear.

"Vivian," I answered and he groaned, finally releasing me so we could both sit up and stare at her.

Crawling towards her body, I lifted my hands before I proceeded to shake her violently. That seemed to trick because she quickly jolted up in surprise, rolling off the bed in the process and ended up hitting the floor with a loud thud. Gray held back a snicker as he stood up, watching the poor girl push herself up back to her feet.

Looking around the room, she looked worse for wear before her eyes settled upon us. Yawning, she muttered, "Good morning."

I gave her an incredulous look as I hopped off the bed, stretching my arms over my head, "Not that we don't like you or anything but if we wanted something sleeping by our feet, we would have gotten a dog."

"Not now," she complained, clutching her head, "I feel like somebody's banging my brain with a hammer."

That's from the hangover and her graceful fall.

"I'm sure he has some painkillers or something," Gray told us while he walked to the door, "Come on, I'm going to fish some food out of that guy."

And as if on cue, my stomach started to grumble loudly in protest to its lack of contents. I placed my hand on it in a failed attempt to quiet it down. Although I didn't like to admit it, I wasn't the one to mock Vivian right now as I feel like my throat was dryer than the Sahara Desert.

When we got down, I observed that many other students became the wiser and chose not to go home on their own, staying here for the night as well. A good few were laid on the mountain of pillows on the living room carpet while a pair was splayed out on the couch.

The host of the party was prepared enough because he offered everyone who was already awake a breakfast bar and told us to help ourselves with the bottle of aspirin on the kitchen counter.