1
I’m dead. That’s what this feeling is. My whole body aches and my head is about to explode.
With great effort I manage to crack one eye open, wincing as the light shoots straight through to my brain.
How much did I drink last night?
I spy the almost-empty tequila bottle on the counter and my stomach lurches. Fuzzy memories start to surface: Face-timing my best friend Emily, drinking tequila shots, something with my laptop… What happened? And why am I here alone? Usually Travis is—
Oh. Travis.
The scene in the parking lot behind the Italian restaurant comes rushing back to me, his words hitting me all over again:You’re happy with a small life, but I need more.
Right. He’s leaving me to travel the world. Five months together—our wholefuturetogether—gone, just like that.
My chest tightens as misery crashes over me. I pull a pillow over my head, desperate to fall back asleep and forget everything, but there’s a thump on the door.
Heaving a sigh, I peel myself from the bed. I notice I’m still wearing last night’s dress, the fabric rumpled and creased from where I passed out. I catch sight of my reflection as I stumble towards the door and pause to try and tidy myself up, but it’s no use. My shoulder-length brown bob is matted up on one side, mascara is smeared down my face and my hazel eyes are bloodshot and puffy.
Shit, I hope it’s not Travis at the door. The last thing I need is for him to see me like this. My stomach lurches again and I realize that at least if itishim, I can puke on his shoes. You know, to thank him for dumping me on my birthday.
But it’s my parents. Or rather, it’s my mother, marching my father in by the arm. He closes the door behind him with an apologetic look while Mum stands there, hands on her hips.
I groan. This is the problem with still living in this tiny, rural New Zealand town: my parents live five minutes up the road and pop in any time they bloody well feel like it.
“Alexis.” Mum gives me a stern look. “What on earth is this New York nonsense?”
I press a hand to my forehead. The room is spinning and my head is thundering and last night’s tequila is hovering near the back of my throat. “Hold on.” I stumble into the bathroom to grab a packet of painkillers, then stagger into the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Honestly.” Mum’s voice drifts into the kitchen. “This is crazy.”
No, fuck the glass. I lower my mouth and drink straight from the tap, gulping back huge mouthfuls of water.
“So Travis ended things. That doesn’t mean you—”
“Wait,” I say, straightening up and turning to them. I don’t remember telling them that. It only happened last night. “How do you know Travis ended things?”
Mum’s brow wrinkles. “You announced it on Facebook, darling.”
OhGod. I can’t have done that, surely?
I push away from the kitchen sink, glancing around for my phone. Maybe if I can just delete the post, there’s a chance no one else will have to see it.
Jesus, Alex. Way to go down in flames.
“But that’s no reason to throw your whole life away,” Mum huffs.
“What?” I mutter, yanking up the couch cushions, groping around for my phone. Where did I last have it?
“I just think quitting your job and moving your whole life overseas is averydramatic response to a little break-up.”
I stop, turning back to Mum. “What?” I ask again, feeling an icy chill run down my spine. Mum can be theatrical, sure, but she’s not one to make stuff up. I glance between her and Dad. They both look anxious and there’s a twist in my gut.
Shit. Please tell me I didn’t do something stupid last night.
I return to my phone search, desperate to find it. Then I spy my laptop on the coffee table and lunge at it, turning it on. Mum and Dad are watching with concern and I almost want to cry. By the looks of it Ididdo something stupid.
I open my browser and go to Facebook, loading the notifications. Apparently I made a post last night and everyone has something to say about it. With a wave of trepidation, I open the post and read it.
