Tamara Turner. Turned Tables

Sunlight had let itself in through the room's single window by the time I opened my eyes for the second time that day. If my head wasn't so aggressively pounding the life out of me, I would have gladly extended my stay in bed. But, as it was, I didn't think I would have been able to endure another second of this headache without some pain-relieving pills.

With a groan, I pulled my covers aside and unwillingly departed from the warmth of my bed, which was a pretty big accomplishment considering how much my body seemed to be magnetized to it.

When I glanced over to the other side of the room, I realized that Mia was gone and her bed was made. A quick look at my phone told me where she most likely had gone: to class. Because it was two in the afternoon. I'd slept through most of the day and, ultimately, most of my classes.