Far From Perfect

Chapter 31

I hear my ringtone go off and sigh as the evil device keeps ringing and ringing incessantly. Why won't it stop?! It makes me feel like my head is splitting open. I stretch out my hand in search of it but refuse to open my eyes, because my head is killing me and I do not want to see any light.

I finally find it and grab it but somehow I manage to drop it and expect to hear a thud as it hits my floor but instead, I hear a loud groan. I peel one eye open and look over the edge of my bed to see Nate laying there with his eyes wide open.

"I think you dropped this," he says and holds out my phone to me. I immediately reject the call and look back down at him.

"You stayed with me all night?" I ask surprised and he nods.

"Yes, I even held your hair when you threw up a few times last night."

"Oh, God," I mutter embarrassed and roll onto my back. "I'm so sorry you had to do that."

"It's fine. I'm just glad you're okay," he says as he sits up.

"I'm far from okay," I mutter as I close my eyes and throw my arm over my face. "I feel like total shit."

"I told you."

"I know. I really don't want to hear it right now though, so if you could keep it down, my head would truly appreciate it," I say and he chuckles. Bastard.

"There's some Tylenol on your nightstand," he informs me. "I'm gonna head home now."

"You're leaving me?!" I ask, sitting up and turn to look at him.

"Yes, you don't need me anymore. You survived the toughest part. You'll be okay now."

"Do you really have to go though?" I ask him with puppy dog eyes.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks with a sigh and runs his fingers through his disheveled hair.

"Yes," I exclaim. "You said you were going to "hold my hand" through this hangover so you have to keep your word," I tell him, using air quotes. "I am dying here. Literally," I add and he has the audacity to chuckle. "This is not funny," I say grumpily. "I'm dying here."

"You are not going to die," he says amused.

"Doesn't feel that way," I press my hands to my throbbing temple and sigh.

"You'll be fine," he assures me and sits down on the bed next to me. He moves my hands away from my face and I freeze.

"What are you doing?" I ask, feeling suddenly nervous.

"Just trust me and close your eyes."

"Okay." I let my eyelids fall closed and sigh in relief when his fingers brush my forehead gently and begin to massage my temple.

"This feels amazing," I mutter.

"It won't do much for you, but it will give you at least some relief."

"Don't ever stop," I say and he laughs.

"I have to stop sometime."

"No. Keep going," I plead.

"That's enough," he says, making me groan out loud.

"You can't just do that and stop. That's not fair to my aching head or my body that is slowly dying."

"Take a shower. It will help."

"Are you calling me smelly?" I say defensively and he smirks.

"No, but you could definitely use one after all that throwing up you did last night. You looked like the girl from The Exorcist," he says with a smirk and I scoff.