Until June
Page 12
“Shot! Shot! Shot!” I chant loudly, along with everyone else at the table, as my sister shoots back a shot of tequila. Her eyes meet mine as she slams the glass down on the tabletop, and I giggle at the pinched expression on her face.
“Your turn,” she yells, pointing at me, and I pick up my shot glass and shoot it back, feeling the burn in my chest as the heat of the alcohol hits my system. It’s not my first shot; actually, I’m pretty sure it’s my twelfth. I’m feeling good.
Happy…
Relaxed…
After my talk with Evan—or my weird outburst, I should say—I found July and Wes in what they consider the common room. My sister, being my sister, took one look at my face and yelled, “Harlen!” and the second Harlen, who I’m pretty sure is a real-life giant, appeared, we started trying to outdrink him. I have no idea why. The task is pointless; the guy looks like he could drink a bottle of tequila alone and still not feel the effects.
“You know you girls are never going to be able to outdrink Harlen, right?” Mic, one of Wes’ friends, asks from my side, and I turn my head and grin at him.
“I know.” His eyes drop to my mouth and he smiles. Biting my lip, I look away from him. He’s definitely good-looking, like super hot, but I vowed to stick to my story of lesbianism. I’m not even sure if that’s a real thing, but I need a man like I need a hole in my head.
“Caaan someone call me a cab or Lüber or whatever?” I slur, looking around the table. I need to get out of here. The alcohol I’ve drunk is floating through my system, making me feel loose.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” my sister says with a pout from across the table, taking another shot.
“I need to get home before I do something stupid,” I tell her honestly, hearing a few chuckles from the men surrounding us.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Mic says softly next to me, and my eyes slide to him.
“You would be the somethin’ stupid,” I tell him, and he smiles bigger, placing his hand on the back of my chair and leaning slightly in to me. At his move, I lean back and blurt, “I’m still in love with my ex-husbeen.”
Blinking, he leans back then rumbles, “Fuck.”
“Ezzactly.” I nod then let out a breath, looking around the table. Everyone has been drinking, and my dad taught us from the time we were young to never, not ever, get in a car with anyone who has even had one beer.
“You hab your phone?” I ask my sister sitting across the table from me when her eyes meet mine.
“It’s in Wes’s room. Where’s yours?”
I bite my lip again. I never have my cell. The stupid thing is annoying, so I constantly leave it behind. I should probably start carrying it. “At home,” I tell her, and she nods like it makes total sense then looks at Wes.
“Can we give her a ride?” she whispers, or she tries to, but she’s so drunk it comes out loudly and everyone at the table looks at her.
“She can stay here,” he replies, running his thumb over her bottom lip.
“Can we stay here too?” she asks, leaning in to him and biting his thumb. His answer is a growl. Dragging my eyes from them, I look around. I don’t want to stay here, but I’m so drunk, things are starting to look a little—or a lot—blurry.
“Come on. I’ll get you settled,” Mic says quietly, helping me out of the chair I planted myself in a few hours—or minutes—ago. I’m not sure how long it’s been.
“Thaaanks,” I slur, leaning in to him. I don’t even know where he leads me. I hear him talking to someone, but my mind is so fuzzy I can’t even tell what he’s saying. The second I’m directed to a bed, though, I lie down face-first and pass out.
*
I semi-awaken as I feel warmth and smell something I swear my soul recognizes as its own. I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want this feeling coursing though me to end. Breathing steadily, I let my body absorb the feeling of the hand wrapped around my waist, the steady breath at the back of my neck, and the weight settled against me. I know I’m going to wake up and this is going to be a dream, so I want to consume all of it, memorize every single second. This is like every other time I’ve woken up thinking Evan is with me—that his arms are holding me, that he still loves me—only now I know what we had isn’t what I made it out to be.
A hand rises, cupping my breast, and the hard length of a man presses against my ass. Squeezing my eyes closed, I pray I’m still dreaming, pray I didn’t do something fucking stupid last night and didn’t make my fucked-up life even more fucked up.
Cracking my eyes open, I see a plain white wall in front of me. My eyes drop to my chest, and sure enough, there’s a large hand wrapped around my breast.
I have no idea what I did last night. The whole night is a complete blur, but I don’t remember getting into bed with anyone. Scooting carefully across the expanse of the bed so I don’t disturb my bed partner, I finally get free and roll off the side, putting one knee and one hand on the floor at a time until I’m on all fours. Lifting my head over the edge of the bed, I see…Evan? His eyes are closed, his face soft in sleep.
“How the hell did you get here?” I ask under my breath, dropping my forehead to the floor.
“I put you here last night,” Evan answers from above, but I pretend I don’t hear him as I attempt to scoot under the bed to hide, but the frame is too low to the floor.
“Your turn,” she yells, pointing at me, and I pick up my shot glass and shoot it back, feeling the burn in my chest as the heat of the alcohol hits my system. It’s not my first shot; actually, I’m pretty sure it’s my twelfth. I’m feeling good.
Happy…
Relaxed…
After my talk with Evan—or my weird outburst, I should say—I found July and Wes in what they consider the common room. My sister, being my sister, took one look at my face and yelled, “Harlen!” and the second Harlen, who I’m pretty sure is a real-life giant, appeared, we started trying to outdrink him. I have no idea why. The task is pointless; the guy looks like he could drink a bottle of tequila alone and still not feel the effects.
“You know you girls are never going to be able to outdrink Harlen, right?” Mic, one of Wes’ friends, asks from my side, and I turn my head and grin at him.
“I know.” His eyes drop to my mouth and he smiles. Biting my lip, I look away from him. He’s definitely good-looking, like super hot, but I vowed to stick to my story of lesbianism. I’m not even sure if that’s a real thing, but I need a man like I need a hole in my head.
“Caaan someone call me a cab or Lüber or whatever?” I slur, looking around the table. I need to get out of here. The alcohol I’ve drunk is floating through my system, making me feel loose.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” my sister says with a pout from across the table, taking another shot.
“I need to get home before I do something stupid,” I tell her honestly, hearing a few chuckles from the men surrounding us.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Mic says softly next to me, and my eyes slide to him.
“You would be the somethin’ stupid,” I tell him, and he smiles bigger, placing his hand on the back of my chair and leaning slightly in to me. At his move, I lean back and blurt, “I’m still in love with my ex-husbeen.”
Blinking, he leans back then rumbles, “Fuck.”
“Ezzactly.” I nod then let out a breath, looking around the table. Everyone has been drinking, and my dad taught us from the time we were young to never, not ever, get in a car with anyone who has even had one beer.
“You hab your phone?” I ask my sister sitting across the table from me when her eyes meet mine.
“It’s in Wes’s room. Where’s yours?”
I bite my lip again. I never have my cell. The stupid thing is annoying, so I constantly leave it behind. I should probably start carrying it. “At home,” I tell her, and she nods like it makes total sense then looks at Wes.
“Can we give her a ride?” she whispers, or she tries to, but she’s so drunk it comes out loudly and everyone at the table looks at her.
“She can stay here,” he replies, running his thumb over her bottom lip.
“Can we stay here too?” she asks, leaning in to him and biting his thumb. His answer is a growl. Dragging my eyes from them, I look around. I don’t want to stay here, but I’m so drunk, things are starting to look a little—or a lot—blurry.
“Come on. I’ll get you settled,” Mic says quietly, helping me out of the chair I planted myself in a few hours—or minutes—ago. I’m not sure how long it’s been.
“Thaaanks,” I slur, leaning in to him. I don’t even know where he leads me. I hear him talking to someone, but my mind is so fuzzy I can’t even tell what he’s saying. The second I’m directed to a bed, though, I lie down face-first and pass out.
*
I semi-awaken as I feel warmth and smell something I swear my soul recognizes as its own. I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want this feeling coursing though me to end. Breathing steadily, I let my body absorb the feeling of the hand wrapped around my waist, the steady breath at the back of my neck, and the weight settled against me. I know I’m going to wake up and this is going to be a dream, so I want to consume all of it, memorize every single second. This is like every other time I’ve woken up thinking Evan is with me—that his arms are holding me, that he still loves me—only now I know what we had isn’t what I made it out to be.
A hand rises, cupping my breast, and the hard length of a man presses against my ass. Squeezing my eyes closed, I pray I’m still dreaming, pray I didn’t do something fucking stupid last night and didn’t make my fucked-up life even more fucked up.
Cracking my eyes open, I see a plain white wall in front of me. My eyes drop to my chest, and sure enough, there’s a large hand wrapped around my breast.
I have no idea what I did last night. The whole night is a complete blur, but I don’t remember getting into bed with anyone. Scooting carefully across the expanse of the bed so I don’t disturb my bed partner, I finally get free and roll off the side, putting one knee and one hand on the floor at a time until I’m on all fours. Lifting my head over the edge of the bed, I see…Evan? His eyes are closed, his face soft in sleep.
“How the hell did you get here?” I ask under my breath, dropping my forehead to the floor.
“I put you here last night,” Evan answers from above, but I pretend I don’t hear him as I attempt to scoot under the bed to hide, but the frame is too low to the floor.
