"Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets."
— Arthur Miller
HANGOVERS WERE NOT FUN.
That was something Clover had learned throughout the years, and even after countless nights of partying with a bottle of Jack Daniels, she still couldn't quite figure out how to deal with one.
Rolling over in bed, she groaned loudly as she reached over to the night stand. Opening only one eyelid, she looked over at the clock she grabbed and saw that it was three in the afternoon. Clover cursed underneath her breath as she realized she had slept the entire day away.
Maybe you shouldn't have drank so much last night, she criticized herself.
Clover let out a deep sigh and rubbed her hands across her tired face. The sun shined through the transparent curtains and its heat bothered her as it prickled her skin. Looking around the room, she slowly sat up. There was a grave pounding in her head that made her feel like the world around her was going to combust.
She threw the duvet covers off of her burning body and placed the pads of her feet on the ground. The hardwood floor felt cool underneath her touch. Clover slowly stood up from the bed, not wanting to lose her balance. She then walked towards the bathroom connected to her new bedroom.
Switching on the light, Clover immediately regretted it as it seemed brighter here than in her room. She covered her eyes until they adjusted. Upon being able to see clearly, she took this opportunity to look at her appearance in the mirror. She grimaced.
The makeup she wore was pathetically smeared across her face. Mascara had melted below her lash-line and the eyeshadow she worked so hard on was no longer looking perfect. The red lipstick that adorned her lips was halfway missing and spilled past her Cupid's bow.
I really outdid myself this time, she thought to herself. Clover bent over the sick, her stomach suddenly churning. She held her breath and pinched the skin between her eyebrows. The nausea subsided thankfully, however she knew it would come back soon if she didn't get something in her system.
Grabbing her toothbrush, she put a fairly large amount of toothpaste onto the bristles and placed it in her mouth. Clover hated the taste of morning breath and considering she didn't do her hygienic routine before she slept, it was worse today. Once she was done brushing, she spit into the sink and rinsed her brush off.
There was a packet of makeup wipes she brought with her from her apartment sitting on the marbled counter. She plucked one out of the package and began to wipe away all of the mistakes from the previous night away. The alcohol. Kissing random men. Weston.
Memories of what occurred between the two came flooding back. Clover stared at herself as she remembered his lips on hers, the way he gripped her thigh, how it was as if his body connected with hers perfectly.
She liked the way his touch lit her skin on fire.
The trash can beside the vanity made a slight ping noise as the wipe dropped into its emptiness. Clover's face was bare now, not an ounce of makeup left over. Now that she felt kind of clean, she brushed through the knots in her unruly shoulder-length hair. She then tied in back in a tiny bun, pulling out some pieces to frame her face.
Clover stripped out of her wrinkled clothes, leaving them on the tiled floor. She made a mental note to ask where the laundry room was before walking back out into her room. She didn't bother picking out a fancy outfit once she reached the bag full of her clothes. Instead, she put on an old t-shirt along with some skimpy shorts.
This is what she typically wore when lounging around her apartment, and being in a house full of scary grown men wasn't going to change that. To any normal person, the situation she was in would be absolutely terrifying to them. Clover on the other hand, couldn't care any less. To her, this was just adding some extra spice to her boring life.
Mix in some extremely attractive men with muscles and tattoos, and she was practically living in paradise.
Her stomach growled as soon as she shimmied into her shorts. Clover subconsciously rubbed her belly, desperately yearning for something to eat. She moved over to where the door to her room was and opened. The girl then walked past the threshold and began her journey through the hall. She was soon met with a case of stairs, and so she carefully walked down them.
There were two guards standing at the bottom of the steps. They were chatting away about some man whom was visiting their boss. Clover knew that meant there was someone here talking to Weston. She didn't care enough to listen and see who that person was.
All she cared about was whatever aroma was coming from the kitchen.
Clover took in a deep breath as she carried herself towards the delicious smell. Upon reaching the kitchen, she saw Majorie placing some sort of food onto a ceramic plate.
Marjorie looked up from her actions, a big grin decorating her face once she realized who it was. "Miss Paige, I'm glad to see you're finally awake. I was just about to bring you something to eat."
She returned the smile. Clover pulled out a stool and sat on it. "What'd you make?"
"Alfredo pasta. It is Mr. Knight's favorite food, and I figured I would surprise him with it." The older woman said whilst setting the plate down. Marjorie slid it towards her. "I also made you a helping."
"You are a blessing, Majorie." Clover complimented as she eagerly grabbed a fork. She twirled some of the noodles and then placed them into her tongue. The flavor dissolved into her tastebuds. "Holy shit. This is delicious."
Majorie chuckled. "Thank you, Miss Paige."
Clover still had a dull pounding in her head. "Do you happen to have any pain killers? It appears that I drank a little too much last night."
The woman was already pouring her glass of fresh water when Clover asked, as if her instincts told her about the headache. Marjorie walked over to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a jar of Tylenol.
"Here you go, sweetie." She said, sliding them across the granite countertop.
Clover thanked her before popping two pills into her mouth and downing them with a hardy sip of water. She then gulped down the rest of it, noticing just how dehydrated her body was. She set the glass back down on the counter when she was done.
Marjorie went back to stirring the pot full of noodles, no doubt making more to feed the rest of the household members. Clover could tell she had maternal instincts, and that warmed her heart.
She took another bite. The emptiness of her stomach was starting to fill up, causing her to slightly feel a little less nauseous. Clover was still very tired though, and the thought of being back in bed watching Friends re-runs was calling her name.
"Marjorie, do you mind if I finish this up in my room?" She asked, chewing up her last bite of pasta. Clover knew she didn't need to ask for permission to whatever she pleased, but she still thought it would be polite.
"Of course! Go ahead and relax." Majorie replied.
Clover gave her one last smile before grabbed the plate of food and standing up from the stool. She carefully exited the kitchen, balancing the food in her hands. Making her way back down the hallway, the girl almost made it back to the staircase when she heard loud voices coming from behind two doors.
She listened carefully and tried to make out what they were saying. Clover moved closer, and realized that one of the men was Weston. He sounded angry. The other man's voice seemed familiar but it was being muffled from deep within the room. The young girl took another bite of her pasta and then placed her ear against the white door. She began hearing bits and pieces of their conversation.
"I found something."
"What are you talking about?"
"You what!"
"Are you fvcking stupid?"
Clover's eyebrows raised in shock as she eavesdropped in their conversation. She wondered what they were fighting about. It sounded intense and she couldn't help herself from being intrigued.
Someone threw something against the door she was standing, causing a loud bang followed by the sound of shattering glass. The unexpected noise frightened her though, and Clover unwillingly let out a yelp.
Her eyes grew wide when she noticed how their argument had died down. She scrambled away from the door, trying to rush away before getting caught. However, Clover never had the best luck and so one of the doors swung wide open with a creak.
She stopped dead in her tracks, her limbs frozen in place. Shit!
"Clover?"