Hangovers are bitches. Like proper bitches.

Everything is way to bright and my head hurts and I feel like hell and have I mentioned that my head fucking hurts?

"It's your own fault for getting drunk," Dave says as I complain to him. "Let this be a lesson to you. Don't get drunk. Ever."

"Freshers week will be a blast," I sigh. "I hate this."

Dave sets the cup of coffee down in front of me. "Hopefully this will help."

It does a little. I drink the coffee and eat the pancakes Dave makes as he chats to me. I'm pretty sure my grief is keeping me out of trouble, but he's being extra gentle and cautious today. Just like Mom. I guess I have Erin and Sal to thank for keeping the random guy between us. I'll have to thank them soon.

"I'm back!" Alfie announces loudly as the front door opens.

He rushes into the kitchen, his hair sticking up at all angles and his glasses askew and his smile huge. He's always brimming with energy after a sleepover, even if he isn't sporting a new beard or moustache as a result of falling asleep too quickly.

"Hey, Alf." Dave greets him with a hug. "Pancake?"

"Just a little one," he says. "I had waffles at Dennis's! His brother's doing Food Tech and he makes really good ones."

"I'll save the mix for you so you can have them later or tomorrow. It'll be too much if you've had waffles too," Dave says.

Alfie ignores him. "What happened to you, Eve?"

I suppose I do look like a mess. I'm not usually in my pyjamas at eleven on a Sunday with my hair all messy and my clothes a mess too.

"I'm just tired," I lie.

Alfie doesn't need to know about my drunken adventures too. He'd probably be confused about why I snuck out and why letting that guy kiss me was such a big deal and why I did it in the first place.

"Alfie, can you get my phone from upstairs?" I call after him when he goes off to get changed and sort his hair out.

"Okay!"

He takes his time. When he comes down, Mom has managed to tame his hair and get him out of his pyjamas and into a Toy Story shirt paired with jeans. He's holding my phone in his hands, making faces at the screen. I never delete the photos he takes while bringing my phone to me, they're kind of cute.

"Jenny texted you," he informs me. "Just now."

"Give me it," I say, taking the phone. "Thanks by the way."

ffs it's not ok at all!!!! how the hell did you live with urself? it's

The message disappears. I navigate to WhatsApp, an app Jenny and I never use to text. It's always on Snapchat or Instagram, our WhatsApp conversations ended once she signed up to the apps and created her profiles.

did you mean to send that to someone else? x

yeah sorry x

if you're not too busy today can we meet up for lunch?

sure. where?

high street at 12:30

i'll be there.