Running Back To Him by Evelyn Rosado

Author:Evelyn Rosado [Rosado, Evelyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fade To Black Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2016-06-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

I wake up groggy, struggling to rub the pastiness from my eyelids. I lay in bed, fearful to sit up because chances are my head will start spinning like a typhoon and I’ll be in the midst of a shitty morning. Mr. Tequila always gets the last laugh. I can hear him laughing now like Vincent Price’s sadistic guffaw at the end of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. I can still taste it on the back of my tongue. It’s a disgusting, nauseous feeling, but it’s nothing a little grease from bacon and eggs won’t remedy.

Last night was fun despite being flaked out on by Kellen, but that’s what I get for keeping my hopes up with him. I can look on the bright side though; at least the smack of reality across the face has brought me clarity and I can go back to suppressing the real feelings I have for him like I’ve done for the past few years.

I peel the covers back and slide out of bed, planting my feet on the carpet. So far so good; no throbbing head and no queasiness.

The first thing I do when I enter the kitchen is make a pot of java. It’s always my go-to on a Saturday morning—whether I have a hangover or not. Late Friday nights out, splashing my liver with toxins is a rarity, even when I hung out with Ashley or was with Lucas.

A Saturday morning with a steaming mug of black goodness is one of my life’s gems. My Mom is at work at the hospital until noon, so I get to enjoy the quiet time to myself.

As I’m caught up in the bliss of sips of my dark roasted brew and a few bites a chocolate vegan muffin, the doorbell rings.

“Jehovah’s Witness,” I drone. Usually I peek through the blinds on the front door and let them continue to ring or knock until they get the hint that I’m not interested.

I stand on my tippy-toes and peek through the blinds only to not see an Oxford shirt and khaki-wearing duo, but Kellen standing before me.

Now I know what a seizure feels like. An inner heat rising up my neck. Metal taste on my tongue. Shortness of breath. Difficulty trying to speak. Dizziness. Yup. I’ve got all the symptoms. He rings the bell again. Yup. I’m about to spaz out any minute now.

“Mags, I can see your head through the blinds,” he says.

“Shit!” I utter under my breath. I don’t have time to scamper upstairs and fix my hair or even brush my teeth. I look down at my legs…I’m wearing my pink jammies with Smeagol all over them. Cute, but only for my eyes to see. And not for Kellen, someone who I’m trying to impress.

I try to stop my heart from punching through my chest, but it’s no use.

I open the door and Kellen is standing there in a black t-shirt, black sweats, and a huge smile. It’s disarming. Why is it so hard to be mad at this boy?

“Good morning sunshine,” he says cheerfully.

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