You're drunk

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  • Published: 25 Feb 2018
  • Updated: 25 Feb 2018
  • Status: Complete
You're drunk. Maybe it's time you went home.


2. ~~~

  You’re drunk.

  You’re at a party.

  It took some convincing for you to go. You don’t like the way people act when they drink. You don’t like how everyone suddenly seems to think they are your friend now, but still they won’t talk to you when you’re back in class together on monday.

  It’s hard for you to hear what people say to you, let alone your own thoughts. Someone turned the music up way too loud, but it doesn’t seem to bother the ones gathered on the living room floor, throwing their bodies around amidst each other in a desperate attempt to catch the attention of someone who will laugh with them about how ridiculous they look.

  You don’t even remember how you ended up here. You had a friend that was invited and she insisted that you went along to keep her company, but now she was nowhere to be found. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you that.

  Of course she wouldn’t be around you all night, seeing as she had way more friends than you did, and the fact that she had been drinking a lot more alcohol than you made her quick to lose her thoughts and give her short-term-memory. You had seen her not long ago, but in mid-conversation she had spotted someone she hadn’t said hi to yet, and suddenly she was on her way across the dance floor and out of eyesight.

  You had been dragged along, as your friend talked excitedly about who would show up tonight, and now you didn’t know the address and you had barely talked to anyone all night. You politely excused yourself every time someone asked you if you wanted something to drink or wanted to dance with them, and the evening was so far along now that people didn’t bother to try to make small talk anymore.

  You’re not even sure who owns this house and you don’t think every person here goes to your high school either.

  You had briefly considered going home earlier, but it didn’t felt right to leave without knowing if your friend was okay. You hope to find her before the party ends, because you’re not sure how you will get home and you don’t want to walk alone when you’re intoxicated and it’s the middle of the night.

  You went outside and sat on the porch for a while, but when night had fallen the cold had set in. You went inside when the chill found its way to your bones. Your hands only stopped shaking when you downed a full glass of something that looked like beer, but tasted like something else.

  Now you’re sitting on the kitchen counter with an empty cup in your hands and you feel so dizzy. A girl came in a while ago and started mixing some exotic looking drinks beside you, and she keeps sniggering everytime she looks up to see that your eyes are still on her.

  Maybe you drank a little too much or maybe you’re just not used to it, but you don’t like this feeling of not being in full control of your body and your movements. You can’t stop watching the girl, fascinated by the way her hands fumble for the right bottles and she keeps missing the glasses as she pours more than enough drinks.

  She offers to make you one and you consider it for a moment, but your head is spinning so much that you think one more glass will make the night end with you on your knees in front of a toilet.

  You sit still, afraid that if you try to jump down from the kitchen counter you might fall on your ass and make a fool of yourself or maybe even hurt yourself. You’re not sure how you managed to get up here in the first place, but now it seems like the perfect place to spend the rest of your night.

  The kitchen is bathed in yellow light and some red lights are strung across the ceiling. You and the girl are the only one here at the moment, but since the alcohol is sitting on the island counter people keeps coming in at random to make themselves a drink and then walk out again without even glancing around the room.

  The music is subdued in here and you lean your head back against the wall as you take a moment to take a deep breath. You’re tired, you have spent all of your energy and you just want to go home.

  You close your eyes for a moment and listen to the sounds around you. You know this song, and the girl next to you starts humming under her breath. She bursts into a real laugh all of a sudden, which shocks you enough to open up your eyes and focus them on her once again.

  “You really shouldn’t fall asleep,” she says and she has one of those voices that sounds like sugar has been poured down her throat and flows out when she speaks. It’s nice, you decide. You don’t know who she is and she has probably had way more to drink than you, but she seems like a person you could easily become friends with.

  Maybe it’s the alcohol talking. You don’t usually drink this much, but you didn’t have that much to do earlier or anyone to talk with, so drinking was all that you could really do.

  You’re about to tell her this, but then three more people walk into the kitchen and your words die on your tongue before they make their way out. You look at the people gathering in the kitchen and as you had trouble with pulling your eyes away from the girl before, now you can’t stop staring at who just walked in.

  The girl laughs at you as she seems your stricken face. She takes a sip of the drink in her hand, the one she has been using at least half and hour on making, and turns around. You wonder where her friends are and why she has just been standing out here all alone, but you still don’t ask her this. You still just stare, an uneasy feeling starting to settle in your stomach.

  You’re still dizzy, but you’re not sure it’s because of the alcohol anymore. You always feel dizzy when you see him. This boy from your class who is so handsome that you sometimes feel like he’s from a different plane of existence when you look at him.

  You can’t stop staring. You have had a crush on him for years, maybe even from the very first time you laid eyes on him. You haven’t really talked to him, except for the occasional pleasantries and doing big group projects with him. You’re not sure he even knows your name and you share classes together every day.

  The uneasy feeling in your stomach is butterflies. You learned to identify them long ago when you realized this crush wouldn’t go away easily. You repressed it, ignored it and let it be, but you can’t stop thinking about how easy it would be now to reach out and to talk, to touch, and to hold him.

  The girl who entered the room with him and his friend has left in favor of the dance floor. You could see her as she filled a cup with a clear liquid and disappeared into the mess of people still standing on their feet in the other room.

  The other boy who entered opened a beer for himself and hopped up on the counter opposite you. You look at him as he sends you a smile and your dizzy head spins even more as you look away quickly. He isn’t the one you want to talk to.

  You want to talk to the boy casually leaning against the refrigerator. He has a big gummy smile on and the girl beside you is laughing. You see her lean her back on the counter behind her, wet and sticky from alcohol, and you see the disgust shortly flash in her eyes as she leans away again.

  He reaches to take a beer from the table in front of him and your head is spinning. You don’t want to be in this room anymore. The girl is looking at him, and he’s looking at his friend, and his friend is looking at you. You stare down at the empty cup in your hand. Maybe you should have accepted a drink from her.

  You consider asking her for one now, but as you look up again you accidentally make eye contact with him. You make eye contact with him and something in your mind seems to stop working all of a sudden.

  The music becomes even more subdued. You crumple the cup in your hand as you take a deep breath. The butterflies in your stomach seems to fly away as he takes a step closer to you. The beer in his hand is placed behind the girl, who stops laughing now and looks at you instead.

  You don’t know this girl. You don’t know this boy and you don’t know his friend. Maybe you drank a little too much earlier and maybe you’ve been sitting still for too long. There is no excuse for going to this party and there is no excuse for the crush you harbor for this boy that you have never really talked to.

  The girl busies herself with the other cups on the table. She turns around and ignores the sticky surface as she keeps pouring, keeps adding new cups and keeps mixing liquids that should not be mixed together.

  The other boy hops down again and walks back out to the party. The music is loud again for a moment and then he closes the door, shutting the music out almost completely.

  You don’t want the girl to leave without getting her name, but you don’t want her to listen to the conversation you feel like you’re about to have. You like her presence and you feel like you owe her an apology now. You want her to become your friend.

  You burst. The butterflies escape in a breath as you open up your mouth. The cup in your hand falls to the floor. One of his hands land on your thigh as you inevitably fall.

  You’re at the edge of the countertop and you almost scream. “I like you,” you say and now there is no going back. You’re drunk. Maybe it’s time to go home. You probably won’t find your friend again anyway. You might get the girl beside you to walk with you home.

  “I really like you,” you say again. You blame it on the alcohol. There is no excuse, but you feel better. The butterflies are gone and when he puts his hand on your thigh to steady you, your cheeks heat up instead.

  You take a deep breath. He steps forward to stand between your legs and puts his other hand on you too. The girl is staring openly now, the drinks in her hand forgotten for the moment. You stare at him as he closes his eyes and exhales. You can smell his breath.

  “Do you like me?” You regret it the moment the words leave your tongue, but the alcohol in your system is back in full power now. You are still drunk. You don’t want the evening to end, but you want your embarrassment to go away.

  “Right now I do,” he answers. He answers and you almost cry. You don’t care that you are not alone. You don’t care about the fact that he probably doesn’t know your name. You don’t even care that he might be too drunk to remember this on monday morning or that he maybe doesn’t recognize you right now either.

  All you care about is the fact that you have wanted this moment for so long. You never expected it to unfold like this and you never expected to care less about the details.

  You put both of your arms around his neck and pulls him closer. You kiss him. You put your lips on his like your life depends on it and you stop breathing for a moment.

  You’re drunk. He’s drunk. The girl beside you is drunk and probably still staring at you. You’re all at a party and it’s getting late. Maybe it’s time you went home.

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