Page 143 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
When I drink—even just one glass—I tend to wake up at dawn. I don’t know why. I sleep in till noon almost every day. I go downstairs, into the kitchen where Athena and George are necking on.
Clear my throat, kind of rock back on my heels.
Athena pulls back, wipes her mouth, smiles at me. George gives me a nod and goes back to whatever it was he was doing.
“Do you guys not ever give it a break?” I ask, slowly walking into the room.
Athena shakes her head innocently.
“Seen her?” George nods at me, points to Athena.
“Is Arthur awake yet?”
George freezes for a tiny second before quickly recovering and giving me a look. “Don’t think so.”
I frown. I don’t like this. “George, did he relapse?”
He whips his head around. “I fucking hope not.”
“So why is everyone being weird?”
“No one’s acting weird?”
“Feel like they are, though?”
“Nah,” shakes his head. “Maybe you’re just acting weird?”
“I’m not being weird!”
He gives me a funny look, his lips twitch. “Well, you’re being weird right now?”
“She isn’t weird!” Athena chimes in.
“Fuck sake,” I cross my arms. “Can someone just tell me what’s going on?”
“There isn’t anything to fucking tell!” He raises his voice, walks past me with his coffee.
“George!” Athena runs after him. “Don’t talk to her like that!”
Nothing to tell? Sure. Yeah, George, I fucking believe you.
I fill a cup up with water, run up the stairs and barge into Arthur’s room, half expecting to see some lines on the side or a girl in his bed. I see neither. Just him, asleep.
Wouldn’t be the first time he’s cleared all the evidence.
I throw the water over his face.
He wakes up—fucking obviously—chokes a bit, spluttering.
“What the fuck?” He asks, all groggy.
He finds his bearings, wipes his eyes and laughs when he sees me standing at his bedside. “What is wrong with you?”
“Have you relapsed?”
Arthur jumps out of the bed, runs a hand through his dripping hair, takes a deep breath. “Am I still fucking dreaming?”
“No!”
