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"I don't control my thoughts. My thoughts control me."
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Mason
TWO HOURS AGO I knocked my Biology textbook onto the floor and it, like myself, hasn't moved an inch since.
My dad is at a dentist appointment, Ruby is off grocery shopping and Jared is at a basketball game; so I have the house all to myself. You'd have thought I'd actually make the effort to embrace the solitude and do something, but I suppose that's the downside to a hangover: You have no motivation to do anything because you're too busy trying to keep your stomach in your stomach.
I've switched the lights off and cocooned myself in blankets, music playing faintly out from my phone which rests on my bedside table.
Bile crawls up my throat and I instinctively reach for the ice-cream bucket I've put behind my head. Thankfully, my stomach settles down a bit and I focus on keeping my breathing steady.
My phone dings beside me and I freeze as my eyes catch the name that appears on the screen. Despite my splitting headache, churning stomach and heavy, itchy eyes, I grab the phone.
The only recollection I have of last night is blur of fists, shots, weed and small glimpses of Carrie McDermott. I can only hope I didn't say or do anything I'm going to regret.
Carrie: How are you feeling?
Me: I've been better. Can you please talk about something to distract me from this Goddamn headache?
Carrie: Lmao...okay. Do you think I'm losing my accent a bit?
Me: I'll never forgive you if you do. It drives Miss March crazy and makes maths a bit more bearable when you're both at each other's throats. Very entertaining
Carrie: What do you call that? American-ist or something haha
Me: I think she just despises the human species as a whole
Carrie: Makes sense because she's clearly not human
Me: Have you heard the rumour that she brings cats to school in her handbag?
Carrie: Crazy cat lady seems fit
Me: We should visit her house sometime
Carrie: I feel like you should elaborate, British Bad Boy
Me: You got me there, Americana. Two dozen eggs should do the trick?
Carrie: Imagine her face!
Me: What? Covered in egg yolk? You don't think I'd miss that amazing opportunity once she'd open the door?
Carrie: Always such a gentleman, Foster
Me: Talking about being a gentleman, I didn't ask you how you are? You know, seeing as you were sitting alone in a playground in the middle of the night?
Carrie: Well...I'm alive
Me: The question is do you wanna be?
ESTÁ A LER
Playing His Own Games | ✔︎
RomanceOne glance at Mason Foster and you expect him to be a normal sixteen-year-old boy. Apart from the bad boy aura he gives off, the cigarettes he holds between his teeth and how his ego is a bit too inflated for everyones liking, Mason is a typical tee...
