What could have been.

- Chapter 22 -

In one gasp of air from having my dream disrupted by a loud knock on my bedroom door, I sit up, resting my back against my headboard. I rub my eyes in an attempt to rub away any feeling of sleep. The sound of Jocelyn shouting my name on the other side of the door settles me back into a laying position. I pull the covers off my head while a groggy sound that I had anticipated being a response for Jocelyn to come in leaves my lips. My head is pounding to a beat of its own despite me laying still. I’m already dreading the day if I’m going to be feeling like this for most of it.

“I’m coming in.” Jocelyn bellows through the door. I stretch out my arm to reach the glass of water on my bedside table, drinking the whole glass in one go as Jocelyn storms over to my bed and jumps over where I'm laying.
 
“Shit...Sorry, are you ok?” In one quick motion, Jocelyn leans over to where I'm trying to fall back to sleep, resting one of her hands on my shoulder and the other hand on my side. 

“Been better,” I mutter under my breath. I don’t know why I do this to myself when I know full well that the only consequence of the night before will be me on death's door the following morning from the worst hangover in the world. 

“What hurts?” Jocelyn questions. Not moving her hands away, her eyes examine me. I tilt my head to the side, confused by the trace of urgency for answers in her voice. I bring my hand to my head to rub my temple with the hope to relinquish all the chaos circling inside of my head. Perhaps, the headache I have is from the countless amount of alcohol I drank last night; however, I know deep down it’s from my head not being able to connect any of the dots to what the hell is going on between Cole and me. 

I can’t even argue I know where my feelings stand with him. Do I like him beyond an innocent crush? Does he even like me in a way that can be perceived as a crush? It’s clear something whether it be the universe or the stupidity of our actions that we seem to like eachs other company. I mean he must enjoy my company in some way if he continues to show up. 
 
Jocelyn knows him well enough to possibly put some of my questions at bay but I can’t bring myself to ask them. What if I don’t like the answer? What if she shrugs off my suspicions of him liking me back?

“Sienna, are you ok?” Jocelyn probes.
  
“My head is killing me. How are you not in bed feeling as shitty as I am?” I’m surprised that Jocelyn is even able to interrogate me for questions on how bad my hangover is considering she’s usually worse off than I am. 

“I got lucky. Anything else? Are you sure you’re, ok?” 

“Yes, I’m fine.” I insist. What has gotten into her? 

Eden walks in to join Jocelyn and me. I move over on my side of the bed to create more room for her, as soon as I do I awaken the pain in my ankle that I had forgotten about. 

Damnit.

The pain is endless, moving in waves from bad to really bad. 

“What's wrong?” Eden asks. Whereas Jocelyn sits up and moves toward the end of the bed. 

“My ankle. I sort of fell over last night and I think I twisted it.” 

I lift my duvet off of me. My ankle has doubled in size and is covered in a red with a mixture of dark pink and purple bruising beginning to come through. 

“I’ll get some ice.” Jocelyn says, she stands and walks to the door, turning around to face Eden and me before she enters the corridor, “Do we even have ice?” 

Eden rolls her eyes, “There should be two trays in the top draw of the freezer.” 

“I knew that.” Jocelyn lies.