Living Backwards by Tracy Sweeney

Author:Tracy Sweeney
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Humorous, Fantasy, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9781621371861
Publisher: Virtualbookworm.com Publishing
Published: 2013-01-15T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

Jillian

I could practically feel the rain battering the roof of my car. This was an angry rain.

As I drove frantically through the busy streets, the harsh lights of the city reflected off the giant puddles that the surprise storm had created on the pavement. I focused on the clock on my dashboard and nervously laid on the horn.

Looking up at the street sign, blurred by the rain, I knew this was the turn I needed to make. I jerked the wheel roughly, pulling into the darkened parking lot. I didn’t care that my umbrella was at home. I didn’t care that there wasn’t a hood on my jacket. I didn’t care that the rain would turn my hair into a wet, frizzy mess.

I stumbled out of the car, running up the steps of the building behind a clearly smarter person holding an umbrella. I dashed into the elevator and up to the twenty-seventh floor. Panting and shivering, I rang the doorbell then knocked impatiently.

When the door cracked open, I was blinded by the glare inside. It got brighter…brighter…and suddenly…

…Painful.

I slowly forced an eye open. Oh, God. The spins. It was light out and I still had the spins. I hadn’t had the spins since college after that vodka/grape juice incident when I forgot to add the grape juice.

Close your eyes. Deep breaths.

“Whoever’s messing with the curtains,” I began, “please take your torture devices elsewhere. You won’t break me.”

“Jillian, sweetie, you should at least get up to take a Tylenol and drink some water,” I heard Danielle say.

Bits and pieces of the previous night came flooding back and I was reminded why my brain was currently trying to force itself out of my skull. Luke was following me to New York. Well, he wanted to follow me to New York, but I wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Honey, there was absinthe in that punch. You need Tylenol. Maybe a whole bottle of it,” she explained. “Luke feels awful.”

“Not as awful as I do,” I muttered, throwing a pillow over my head.

I heard the deafening sound of the bottle of Tylenol shaking near the bed. Each tiny capsule sent a jolt of pain through my skull. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose, Tylenol?

“Drink,” she commanded, bumping my arm with a bottle of water.

I opened an eye once again, assaulted by the bright lights and pastel coloring of Danielle’s bedroom. Megan was curled up in a sleeping bag on the floor, arms splayed over her head with her mouth hanging open. If I had a cellphone, I would absolutely snap a picture and assign it to her number or maybe upload it to Facebook. That was what Facebook was for, right?

“Why does Meg get to sleep?” I whined, seeing three water bottles in front of me instead of one. I chose the middle one. I was a professional.

“Because Meg didn’t willingly poison herself last night. Care to explain?” she asked.

“It was the prom. I got drunk. That’s what you do,” I deflected.

“I don’t know what Luke was thinking,” she added.

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