My favorite thing about parties is the morning after. The remnants of last night's makeup smudged under your eyes, the awful taste of alcohol on your tongue, the sudden wave of nausea encouraging you to throw up your entire digestive system, the lack of memory of what happened or how you got home, and, best of all, waking up half-dressed next to a random guy, also half-dressed.

Ah, the morning after a party: what's not to love?

After managing to get out of bed without barfing, I stumbled my way into the bathroom to brush the taste of beer out of my teeth and find something to ease the hangover headache that was quickly developing.

When I came back out of the bathroom, some of my grogginess had worn off and I remembered that I had to wake up the half-dead-looking body in my bed in order for him to actually leave. This was a perfect example of why I avoided bringing hook ups home with me, and could almost guarantee that it happened last night under Jason's influence.

I booted the kid from my bed and politely showed him the door before texting Jason to make sure that he, along with everyone else, got home alright, too. It was a delightful surprise to receive a text back from TK on Jason's phone, because the latter was still asleep. He confirmed my theory that Jason had been the one to urge me home from the party with a random guy.

After trying to call Luna and quickly getting hung up on after she scolded me for trying to wake her up while the sun was still up, I decided to enjoy my morning and take a relaxing hot shower. This would mark the first time in months that Luna wasn't dragging me off to some Sunday spinning class with her, and I was all too happy about that notion.

It seemed that no one else was keen about waking up this early after a long night, not that I could really blame them. Much to my delight, this meant that I would be staying in today; nothing provides a more perfect remedy for a hangover than putting on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and lounging in bed for the entire day.

My proposed alone time, however, was quickly interrupted. I hadn't even managed to finish brushing out my wet hair when I heard my name being called.

I listened to the creak of my door as it was pushed open a minimal amount, followed by heavy footsteps entering my room without permission. I didn't have to turn around to know that it was Carson– I could tell by the way my nerves spiked as soon as the door opened. Just his aura was enough to set me over the edge sometimes.

"Maybe knock first," I said angrily. "I could have been undressed."

"Catch you in the middle of changing?" He asked with a smirk, allowing his eyes to fall over my body slowly. "That would have been a pity."

"You're disgusting," I scowled. "Why are you in here? What do you want?"

"I was bored," He shrugged, inviting himself to sit down on my freshly made bed. He shifted into the middle of the mattress, rearranging some of my throw pillows as he went, before kicking out his legs in front of him.

"I'm not understanding my involvement," I responded, abandoning my hair brush to go and remove his feet off of my bed. He radiated with satisfaction as he refused to move them and I had failed to pry his feet off the bed myself. I narrowed my eyes at him before removing his shoes, not forgetting to throw them at his head, both of which he was unfortunately able to dodge.

"Why don't we do something?" He suggested, and, for a moment, I almost believed he was serious.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible, and crossed my arms over my chest. "We?" I asked skeptically. "As in me and you?"

"Are you dense?" He remarked, reaching over to knock on the top of my head a few times before I managed to swat his hand away. "That's what I said."

I let out laugh, amused by the sheer absurdity of his request. "Yeah, sure, Carson– let's do something together. And while we're at it, let's get matching tattoos of a rainbow princess mermaid!"

"I'm sensing sarcasm," He said, feigning ignorance. "Is that a no?"

"No, it's a 'I would actually rather skydive into a pool of sulfuric acid with no clothes on,' but sure, 'no' works too."

"Why not?" He urged. "Every other girl would be jumping up and down to spend time with me." What irked me the most about that was how he said it with total sincerity. I mean, yeah, maybe he wasn't totally incorrect, but it was the fact that he had the audacity to state it like it would somehow change my opinion of him.

I rolled my eyes. The ceiling in my room was too low for his ego.

"Let's go to the movies," He tried.

"I'd rather hit myself over and over with a hammer," I replied without a hint of sarcasm. Sarcasm would imply I was kidding. "How many times do I have to turn you down before you take the hint and leave me alone?"

"I don't know, Princess," He responded with a sickening smile that increased my urge to punch him. He tucked his arms behind his head and leaned back against the array of pillows. "Let's test it out. I'll start again." He cleared his throat dramatically, "Madeline, why don't we do something together?"

"No," I responded immediately, totally unamused with the current situation. "Is that enough rejection for one day? Or has a lifetime of it desensitized you?"

I was expecting him to hit me with some witty comeback, and was surprised when it never came. He glanced away and squinted his eyes, as though he was in deep thought. It was another moment before he responded, "That one didn't work either. Maybe the tenth time is the charm."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from physically retaliating. "I thought this was a mutual hatred. You're supposed to insult me, not ask me to the movies."

"Number one, I never said I hated you," He started with an accusatory look in his eye. "Number two, I can insult you at the movies. And three, you make it sound like I asked you on a date."

"I don't know, Carson," I taunted, shrugging my shoulders innocently. "It seems like you're trying to make a move."

"Don't get cocky."

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, because out of the two of us, I'm the one with too much self-assurance."

"Right, anyways, where are we on that movie?"

"Carson, if I wanted to watch a movie, I would put one on," I said, pointing to the television sitting across from my bed. "And if I wanted to watch it with someone, I would call literally anyone other than you."

"Well, then, it seems we have a problem, Princess."

"My only problem right now is you."

"Why?" He asked, smugly. "You can't stop thinking about me?"

"Yes, Carson I can't stop thinking about you– and how much I want to shove your head into a toilet bowl."

"That's not very sanitary."

"Don't you have friends?" I exclaimed as a last resort. I was running out of patience for this, and bickering with him was doing nothing for my headache. "Can't you go bother Dylan?"

"Dylan hasn't woken up yet."

"Well, why don't you go wake him up with a true love's kiss and leave me alone?"

"I'm alright. Thanks for offering, though."

Out of sheer frustration, I gave up trying to kick him out of the room and decided to try a different method. I hoped that if I ignored his presence for long enough, he would take the hint and leave.

I slid off the bed and made my way for the couch near the back window of my room. I grabbed a random book off of the shelf on my way and made myself comfy on the sofa, leaning against the arm rest and crossing my legs over one another.

I could see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but continued pretending to read. I stared at the page as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, but, in honesty, the font was too small for me to focus on this early in the morning.

"What are you reading" He asked.

"A Killer's Guide to Brutal Murder," I responded, flipping the page. "I've been meaning to brush up on some new techniques."

"Funny," He responded monotonously.

I must have fooled myself if I had thought that Carson's silence meant he was growing bored and my plan was working. By the time I noticed he had moved from my bed, it was too late, and the book was being snatched out of my hands.

I turned around, finding him looming over me, holding the book awkwardly in his hand as he examined it.

I groaned, "What will it take to make you leave?"

He smirked, "I've already told you. I want to see a movie."

"You have a television in your room."

"I want popcorn."

"There's some microwave popcorn in the kitchen."

"I want buttered popcorn."

"Then go buy a goddamn cow, milk it, and churn yourself up some butter. While you're at it, leave me alone!"

He looked unamused with my responses, and waited impatiently for me to relent. I pinched the bridge of my nose "Are you really not gonna give this up?"

He shrugged, "Like I said, I'm bored."

I knew it, even before my response had left my mouth, that I was going to sincerely regret this. "Fine."

* * *

"See her?" Carson asked, pointing at one of the actresses on the screen. I nodded hesitantly, certain I wouldn't like wherever this went, resenting that the twenty minutes of uninterrupted silence between us had already come to an end.

"That's what a girl should look like. Take notes."

I rolled my eyes, "Seriously?"

"You told me to insult you– I did. Your turn."

"You're an actual child," I remarked. "I'm not playing your stupid game."

I turned back to the movie, pretending to actually be interested. For some reason, today seemed to be an off day for the movies. They was only showing like four different movies, and the theater was more or less a ghost town. We had bought tickets to some random old movie that they were rerunning and ended up having the movie theater almost entirely to ourselves.

We took seats in one of the rows further back; I had tried to leave two seats between us so that no one would mistake us as a couple and for the benefit of not having to sit next to him. However, he refused to share the popcorn unless I moved into the seat next to him, so my peace and personal space lasted for a very brief duration.

"What are you, chicken?" He scoffed.

I knew he was just trying to get a reaction out of me, and the mature thing to do in this situation would be to ignore him and let the comment slide. However, I've never claimed to be mature and my pride was dead set on seeking vengeance.

"I'm sorry Carson, but I can't think of anything insulting."

"Giving up that easily?" He asked half-surprised. His lips curled into a smirk that matched the sinister look in his eyes.

"I guess so," I sighed. "You're just too perfect."

"At least you've finally come to terms with it," He said, happily. "Tell me what you love most about me."

I made a show of looking contemplative, as if I had a mental list of his nonexistent food characteristics pre-made. "Well, your hair looks really great. I love what you've done with it."

He beamed with satisfaction, as he ran a hand through his hair. "You can touch it if you'd like," He mused. "As long as you've washed your hands first, of course." I hid my disgust at the offer as best I could and politely declined. "Yeah," I continued on while he continued playing with his hair. "I've just never seen anyone able to get it to actually come out of their nostrils. How did you do it?"

His eyes widened in horror and his hands rushed to his nose, quickly covering it from my field of vision. I laughed wickedly as his irritation became more and more apparent. I had only been kidding, of course. Carson grooms himself more than a damn monkey– there would never be a chance of a hair being too long or out of place. Still, his surplus of self-absorption makes him a fun target to play with.

"You're not as cool as you think you are," Carson responded grumpily after recovering from the impact of his defeat.

"And you're not as hot or as perfect as you think you are," I shot back.

He scoffed, "Please, I know you've thought about me naked."

(A/N: Yes, this is from 10 Things I Hate About You... literally the best movie of all time.)

Okay, so he may not have been totally wrong about that last statement. I'm no fool, the guy could be a swimwear model. But was I going to tell this loser that maybe once or twice the thought of him wearing nothing has crossed my mind? Absolutely not.

"OMG! How could you tell?" I said, placing a hand over my chest dramatically. "How did you know that your naked body occupies my thoughts every waking moment of the day?" He seemed more amused than offended at my remark and let out a chuckle, staying quiet as if waiting for me to perform an encore.

"Besides," I continued, flipping my hair over my shoulder. "It's definitely you who has thought about me that way."

Carson glanced away, looking up at the movie screen before muttering, "You've got me there." My eyes widened in utter horror. He took advantage of my momentary lapse of thought, as I remained motionless and too stunned to speak, and leaned in closer to me. I felt him hovering over me as his lips came down right next to my ear. "Unlike you, Princess, I can be honest about my wet dreams."