Empty Love

The alarm blared from Sabrina's nightstand, its shrill electronic beep cutting through the fog of her hangover like a knife. She groaned, burying her face deeper into her pillow, the soft cotton doing little to muffle the offensive noise. With a clumsy swipe of her arm, she knocked her phone to the floor, the screen cracking slightly as it hit the hardwood. "f**k," she muttered, rolling onto her back and blinking up at the ceiling. Sunlight streamed through the half-open blinds, painting stripes of gold across the disaster zone that was her dorm room. Clothes were strewn everywhere - last night's jeans draped over her desk chair, a crop top hanging precariously from her bedside lamp. An empty tequila bottle stood like a monument on her nightstand, its presence explaining so much about her current state. She reached for her phone again, squinting at the cracked screen. 7:48 AM. "s**t!” Sabrina launched herself upright, immediately regretting the sudden movement as the room spun violently. A wave of nausea crashed over her, her stomach lurching in protest. She barely made it to the bathroom in time, collapsing to her knees just as last night's questionable decisions came rushing back up. The cool tile pressed against her forehead as she gasped for air between heaves. "Maybe drinking before an 8 AM class wasn't the brightest idea," she croaked, her throat raw from stomach acid. "You think?" Sabrina yelped, slipping off the toilet seat and landing hard on the floor. "Jesus f*****g Christ, Fiona! You scared the hell out of me!" Her roommate stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one perfectly laminated eyebrow arched in judgment. Fiona was already dressed for the day in a striped long sleeve with a studded belt peaking out and a plaid pleated skirt with blue fishnet tights underneath. The contrast between them couldn't have been starker - while Fiona looked ready for a photoshoot, Sabrina was pretty sure she still had glitter from last weekend's party stuck in her hair. Fiona stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "You’re so out of it, you didn’t even notice me. I’ve been in here since you lifted the toilet lid. I was brushing my teeth very loudly." She tilted her head. "Just how much did you drink last night?" Fiona crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as Sabrina wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. The bathroom still smells faintly of mint toothpaste and stomach acid. "Enough to forget my roommate exists, apparently," Sabrina mumbles, flushing the toilet before staggering to the sink. She splashes cold water on her face, Blinking up at her reflection, she winced. Auburn hair stuck up in every direction, dark circles under her eyes rivaling a raccoon's, smudged mascara giving her a distinctly deranged look. She tried to comb her fingers through the tangled mess, only to huff in exasperation when her press-on nails got caught and popped off, hanging pathetically from a clump of hair. "Yikes," she muttered to her reflection. Fiona leans against the doorframe, toothbrush still in hand. "You were literally singing karaoke to your economics textbook at 2 AM. I had to confiscate your highlighter because you tried to use it as a microphone." The casual comments caused another wave of nausea to roil through. Sabrina groans, pressing her forehead against the cool porcelain. "Please tell me that’s the worst of it." "Oh, no." Fiona's grin turned wicked. "You also texted your ex." Sabrina's head snapped up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. "WHAT." Fiona pulled out her phone with the dramatic flair of a magician revealing their best trick rings glinting in the sunlight. "Relax, I stole yours before you could hit send." She cleared her throat theatrically. “'Hey stranger, miss your face... and other parts? Really, Sab? That's what you came up with?" The giggles made it hard for her words to be heard, but Sabrina heard it alright. "I'm dropping out," She declared, sliding dramatically to the floor. The cool tile felt good against her overheated skin. "New identity. Remote island. No more tequila, ever." Fiona laughed, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls as she rummaged under the sink. She emerged victorious with a bright orange Gatorade, which she tossed at Sabrina's head. "Drink up. Class starts in twenty, and if you puke in the lecture hall, I'm pretending we don't know each other.” Sabrina whimpered, cracking open the bottle and taking a cautious sip. The electrolytes were like a balm to her abused system. "You're a cruel, cruel woman.” "And you’re never pregaming a Tuesday again," Fiona says, tossing a granola bar at her head. "Now move it, lightweight." ‘Oi! Fi!” Sabrina yells at the exasperated Fiona as they hurried across campus. “Let's meet after classes. I wanna attend the football game.” Fiona huffs and nods, gives a little twirl and walks out the door. Which Sabrina took as a yes. --- The stadium lights hum overhead, casting a golden glow over the crowded bleachers. Sabrina tugs at the sleeves of her oversized jersey—Fiona’s, obviously, because of course she forgot her own—and tries to ignore the way her best friend was smirking at her. “So,” Fiona drawls, shoving a foam finger into Sabrina’s ribs. “What’s the real reason we’re here? Because I know for a fact you don’t know a single thing about football.” Sabrina scoffs, tossing her ponytail. “School spirit? Team camaraderie? The thrilling spectacle of—” “Liam Callahan’s biceps in that stupidly tight uniform,” Fiona finishes, grinning when Sabrina chokes on her pretzel. “Oh, please. You’ve been ‘accidentally’ walking past the athletics building all week.” “That’s a public walkway!” “It’s behind the chemistry building. No one goes there unless they’re lost—or stalking Division I athletes.” Sabrina groans, sinking lower in her seat as the crowd roars around them. “I’m not stalking him. He’s just… objectively nice to look at. Like a sunset. Or a really symmetrical sandwich.” Fiona snorts. “A sandwich? Wow, you’ve got it bad.” On the field, Liam jogs into position, helmet under one arm, dark hair tousled from sweat. Even from here, Sabrina can see the way his jaw tenses when he barks orders at the offensive line—all sharp edges and effortless command. The guy barely blinked at the swarm of admirers who lingered after games, all hoping to be the one to melt that ice-king demeanor. “Face it,” Fiona says, nudging her. “You’re here for the same reason half this stadium is: hopeless curiosity about what it’d take to make Liam Callahan smile.” Sabrina opens her mouth to protest—just as Liam turns, scanning the stands. His gaze snags on hers for half a second, and her stomach does a very unsportsmanlike flip. “Oh my god,” Fiona whisper-yells. “Did he just—” “No!” Sabrina hisses, yanking her down by the hood of her sweatshirt. “And if you ever mention this, I’ll hide your left shoe every morning for a year.” Fiona’s laughter is drowned out by the kickoff whistle. But Sabrina could not hear it. Actually she could not hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears. Because Liam definitely just looked at her. And what was worse? She definitely looked back!