A few minutes later, I’m dancing with a pretty lady who’s probably my sister’s age and turns around and swings her ass at me. I take the opportunity to grind on her and my hands are raised and people are cheering.
As I’m waving my hands in the air like I just don’t care I see Duncan fall on the dance floor. I double over in laughter and rush over to pick him up, but slip on whatever he did and fall on top of him. I’m laughing, my shirt is now drenched with vodka or something, wait…what is this? What is that smell? It smells like candy, there has to be so much sugar in that, fuck. I don’t even know what I’m drinking now. It smells good though…
I blink as I see a circle around us with their phones aimed at us. Fuck. Oh alcohol, how I love you and hate you. I turn over and whisper in Duncan’s ear. “Time to go man.”
“What? I’m just having fun,” he’s still laughing, but he’s worse off than I am.
I push myself off him and then hold my hand out to help him up.
“Are y’all okay?” A woman asks as she comes up to me.
“Oh, yeah sure, there’s something on the floor, we both slipped.” I use my best sober voice, but by the way she’s looking at me it wasn’t a very good attempt at pretending to be sober. I want some more cookies. All of a sudden I’m starving. “I’m ordering pizza,” I announce. Three women tell us to come with them, they’ll order in their room and you know what? Cool. I don’t have to pay for it. So I follow them to the elevators. “Duncan, come on. Pizza.” He follows me and we’re standing there with a group of women and I smile. They smile. Duncan smiles.
Are you smiling?
Agony shooting through my head wakes me with a start. There is so much pain I feel like if I open my eyes, I may vomit. I may vomit anyway. Fuck, my entire body hurts. I mean, my pinky hurts. What’s happening? I can’t really open my eyes. It smells funny and I’m laying on something really hard. I try to open my eyes, but I’m met by a wincing throbbing in both eyes so harsh that I snap them closed again.
Fucker.
I turn my head to the side and squint so maybe my eyes won’t hurt so bad. It’s dark, but I can see the outlines of things. I see shoes and pizza boxes and suitcases. Where the fuck am I? The smell of pizza causes my stomach to flip in a way that means I need to get to the bathroom. I close my eyes and take stock of things I’m aware of. I have no shirt or shoes on, but my jeans are on. I’m lying on the floor. My mouth tastes like a wildebeest shit sandwich. My stomach roils again as I sit up slowly. My hand pushes at my forehead like that will make the pounding go away. It doesn’t help, not in the tiniest bit.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter as I stand up and stumble to where I think the bathroom is. I feel for the doorknob and then close myself in the bathroom. I unzip my pants and slump on the toilet. I push my dick down and piss in the toilet for like three minutes. Oh, don’t tell me this shocks you? I can’t even stand up right now. My sister used to make me piss like this for years so she didn’t have to clean up my bad aim in the bathroom in the trailer we lived in. She said if I couldn’t aim then I’d have to sit like a girl. I revert to it when I’m sore or hungover, right now I’m both.
I feel like I lifted seven hundred pounds, multiple times, while someone punched me in the face. I don’t drink that much so I don’t have a good grasp on my limit, but I know that I was way past that last night. I shake it and then stand up. Stepping tentatively, I look at myself in the mirror. My reflection looks worse than I was counting on, my longer hair is sticking out all over, my eyes are bloodshot and I have words on my abs written in marker. I don’t even have the desire to see what the words are at this point. I run both of my hands over my hair in an effort to smooth it down, then put my hands on the counter. I need to grab Duncan and my boots and get the hell out of here. I pull my phone out of my pocket and realize it’s dead.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
These cuss words are whispered in my head because that is all my head can take right now. I crack the bathroom door and see Duncan, naked on the bed, draped over a woman. I tiptoe over to the bed and stick my finger in his side.
“Fuck,” he mutters loudly. I put my hand over his mouth and he opens his eyes at me. I bring my finger to my mouth telling him to shut up. Then I dip down and pick up one of my boots. I scan the room for the other one and see it sticking out from under a suitcase, I left the bathroom light on so that we could see to leave. I walk over and pull it out carefully. Duncan is trying to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs of the two women on the bed. I hadn’t seen the second one until he got up, morning wood and all.
I motion toward the door. He nods and then runs his hand over his face. I’m as quiet as possible as I exit the room without closing the door so he can leave without a sound. I lean against the wall and wait. My eyes fall closed, until I hear the door click closed. Duncan is standing in only his shorts with the funniest expression on his face. Laughter bursts through my mouth and I quickly cover it.
“Where are your shoes?”
“No fucking idea.”
“You’re a mess dude.”
“I’m just glad I wore flip flops, I have like five more pairs at home.” His voice sounds like sandpaper.
“Did you fuck both of those women when I was passed out on the floor?”
“I think so,” he shrugs. “I think I yelled a lot while doing it too, my throat hurts.”
“I have no recollection.” I remember falling on the dance floor and deciding to leave. After that, it’s a black mass of lost time.
“I mean I was naked and they were too. I’m just assuming.”
“You don’t remember?”
“Not really,” he answers as the elevator doors close.
“What a fucking waste of a threesome.” My head falls against the wall of the elevator. I’m not even sure I could keep it up if I tried.
“Right? Life is so unfair right now.”
We’re quiet the rest of the way to our floor and then walk to our room where I can’t find my key. I look at him. He holds his hands up. “Does it really look like I know where my hotel key is?”
“Fuck me,” I mutter. “You want to stay up here while I run down to the lobby?”
“I’m just going to sit right here,” he answers sliding down the wall by our room.
I shuffle to the elevators again and ride down to the lobby. I walk up to a guy at the counter and tell him I’ve lost my key. In the meantime, I hear my name being called.
“Ellis, I’m shocked you’re awake?” I turn to see Amelia and Danny holding hands and walking through the lobby after what looks like a run.
I shrug. Talking is hard.
“What are you doing?”
“Here’s your key Mr. Ellis.”
“Thanks,” I mutter and turn back around to face them. “Lost my key in the madness last night and Duncan locked me out.”
“Don’t worry man, we know what happened,” Danny chuckles.
I blink.
“You know there are pictures all over the place right?” Amelia’s voice was laced with concern.
“Huh.” It’s all I can articulate.
“Um.” She looks around.
“Dude you and Duncan hooked up with some readers last night and it was the greatest thing that ever happened to them. Most of the pictures of you are just your chest and abs while you were passed out, Duncan however…”
“Oh fuck,” I say to myself.
“Yep, you better start messaging them to get taken down. I think some of the nude ones were taken down by Facebook already.”
“Nude ones!” My voice hurts my head and bile starts to rise in my throat.
“Of Duncan,” Danny answers my unanswered question.
“Fuck, thanks.” I start heading back to the elevators and they follow laughing. “Hey, what time is it?”
“Seven,” Amelia answers.
“I feel like death.”
“You look like you fought death and lost.” Danny
laughs.
Every two seconds my head expands and my eyes squint closed at the pain. I’ve chugged gallons of water and several pain relievers to no avail. That’s the trick with hangovers, you need to hydrate, but I think sometimes you just fucking drink too much. Duncan and I haven’t spoken for a couple of hours, because we know each other so well. We know we fucked up. When I plugged in my phone I had a million messages and notifications, so I just turned it off again.
We’re sitting at the airport waiting to load on the plane and I turn my phone on again. I got a message from Megan, she told me to call her. I don’t want to. I actually don’t want to hear anyone’s voice. Voices hurt today. Sounds hurt today. Light hurts today. Lexie’s messages are worse.
Are you okay?
Please message me you’re okay
I’m really worried
I’d kill you if I didn’t fear you’re already dead
I feel bad and respond immediately.
Hey, my battery died. I’m okay, just stupid and hungover.
Her response is quick.
Brad I’m disappointed. You’re an adult. Act like it.
Ugh. I know. Listen. When we fuck up we certainly don’t need other people confirming the fuckedupness. We get it. I get it. Duncan is a strange green color today. He’s puked twice, but I can’t decide if it’s because of his hangover or the fact that there are pictures of his penis all over the Internet.
Another message pops up from her quickly.
Did Dunc really fuck those women? Did they really put that all over social media? I’m so confused by people. You slept through it? That’s gross. I don’t want people fucking while I’m in the same room.
Oh dear God. I turn my phone off again. They call our flight and I get in the line that forms to get on the plane. I feel tunnely...you know when you can see right in front of you, but everything else is blurry. Duncan is behind me.
It’s hot, people smell bad and the lady who scans my ticket smiles too big. I walk down the ramp and stand waiting to make my way to my seat when the flight attendants start giggling and looking behind me. I turn and see Duncan grimacing as he walks down the ramp toward me with his suitcase. Duncan has an intricate sleeve tattoo that has a skull and a raven coming out of it. It’s badass, but it also makes him recognizable. We debate whether this is a good thing all the time. I’m guessing now he wishes he’d brought some long sleeve shirts, because based on the whispers I catch when I pass the women, they saw the pictures of him, naked. I would ponder the power of social media, but I’m too hungover to have real thoughts.
“Hey Duncan,” one of them says as he makes his way through the first class cabin. He turns at his name and his face reads confusion, but then he sticks a red licorice in his mouth, grins and continues to his seat next to me.
“I want to die,” he mutters as he falls into the seat next to me.
“Lexie is very disappointed.”
“Yeah well, my mom fucking saw those pictures.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Pretty much a disaster. Why’d you let me get so drunk? One of us needs to know what the hell is going on, that’s like bro code shit.”
“Dude, are you serious?”
“I can’t even talk to you right now. My brain is rattling in my head. This flight is going to kill me.”
“You have to work in the morning?”
“Fuck yes.” He rubs his head.
“I’m going straight to bed when I get home.”
“Me too. Don’t wake me up for anything on this flight.”
I agree and then lean my head against the window and promptly fall asleep.
I turn on my phone as we pull up to the gate. I have a few voicemails and I see more from Megan that I ignore. I see a message from Charlie that I know will be all screaming so I ignore it too.
The Texas heat slaps me in the face as we walk to my truck. I’m out of sorts and I don’t think it’s all due to the drinking, but I’m just going to go with hungover. I have to get up at four in the morning and I’m already dreading it. I call my buddy Kenyon.
“Hey man, I’m going to swing by and pick up Snape.”
“Yeah, I’m around for another thirty minutes.”
“Okay, we’ll be there in twenty.”
“Is Dunc with you?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Dude he was naked on the Internet, that’s all anyone is talking about.”
“What?” I mean we know he was on the Internet, but the fact that everyone has seen it blows me away right now.
“Yeah, I went to Midnight Cowboy last night and ran into Madison Claire when it was all going down. It was all over Instagram and Facebook before it got taken off. Dude, was she on a date last night?”
“I don’t know,” I answer.
“She was, she made it real clear to me and Candace.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I went over to talk to her about it she climbed in some douchebag’s lap.”
“Candace was mortified. I told her it was the deal, it was a former brothel. I tried to talk her into sitting on my lap, but that didn’t happen ‘til later.”
“Okay man, I’ll see you in a minute.” I crank my truck and reverse out of my space. She’s dating someone, for real. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“Someone else see my cock?”
“Yep, I think your cock is now famous.”
“Good, maybe I’ll get paid to do porn.”
“Would you?”
“Probably, if I needed the money.”
“Really?”
“Get paid to fuck pretty girls? Yep. I could do it.”
“Let’s not talk for the rest of the day, k?”
“I can do that too,” Duncan responds. Then he pulls out his phone and starts tapping.
My brain is swimming through things and I just decide not to do anything until I get a decent night’s sleep. Maybe I won’t feel like I’m dying in the morning.
I turn into my apartment complex and slow when I see a Mercedes I recognize.
“No,” I say.
“What?” Duncan has Snape in his lap and is petting him. “Oh shit, maybe she’s here to get with me. She has seen my penis now. They don’t call me ding-a-ling Duncan for no reason.”
“No one calls you ding-a-ling Duncan,” I dispute and fight the urge to laugh, because I know it will hurt, as I pull into a spot in front of our apartment. I close my eyes for a second before I cut the engine. I need to be clear to talk to Mad. I don’t want to fuck up any worse than I’ve already done.
“So I’m going to take Snape with me.” Duncan gets out of the truck, grabs his suitcase from the back and walks up to our door. “Hey Mad.”
“You’re disgusting,” she responds.
“You’re just jealous,” he says as he closes the door behind him.
I get out of the truck and look at her.
“Did you mean it?” she says.
I don’t really pay attention to what she says because she’s wearing a thin white tank top and a black bra that I can see through to the outline of her nipples. She’s got on the shortest jean shorts I’ve ever seen. Her legs are toned and golden. The shoes she has on criss-cross up her calves and my mouth begins to water. My eyes travel up her body to her lips that are ruby red and bold against the rest of her bare face. Oh, she knows me so well and she’s using it against me. I want to take her upstairs right this second and she knows it.
“What?” I ask.
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” She smells like cookies. I lick my lips.
“Are you sorry?”
I nod.
“About everything?”
I nod again.
“What everything?”
We’re really doing this right now? When I can’t make a coherent thought.
“Yep, we’re doing this right now. We’re doing this when you look and feel like shit. When you should feel like shit. We’re doing this when there are
pictures all over the Internet of you in various stages of undress. We’re doing this when I feel like my world is tilting because I miss you or miss the possibility of you. We’re doing this.” She’s standing her ground, her chin juts out defiantly.
It’s like she reads my fucking mind. It’s scary. This girl scares me.
“Walk with me,” I say and put her arm around my forearm.
“Did you fuck someone this weekend?”
“No, did you?” I’m not good at this.
“Does it matter?”
I stop and look at her. Her hair is scattered around her shoulders and down her back and I reach out and pull at a piece. I twist it between my fingers.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispers.
“Do what?”
“Be without you.” Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears and something breaks inside me.
“Then don’t. Don’t be without me.”
I grab her hand and we walk to the mailroom at the apartment complex. We’re silent, but she lets me hold her hand. The mail falls all over the floor when I open the slot for our apartment. I bend down to pick it up, it sounds like a waterfall in my brain.
“I can’t share you anymore, it’s not fair.” I barely hear her, but I do and I’m sorry for how things have gone with us. I close my eyes and stand up leaving the mail on the floor. I lift her in my arms and press her against the wall.
My lips search hers tentatively. She’s refusing me. I brush my thumb over her lower lip and make her give me access. My tongue twists with hers and she groans into my mouth. She tastes like cookies too. What is up with all the cookies? I separate from her and lean my forehead against hers.
“We’ve fucked this up, huh?”
“You’ve fucked it up.” Her eyelashes tickle my skin.
“I fucked this up, huh?”
She nods.
“How can I fix it?”
“Did you fuck anyone this weekend?”
“No ma’am.”
“Did you want to?”
“Yes,” I kiss her. “You.”
“Ellis,” she moans into my mouth. “We need to…ah…”
Manbuns & Martinis (Drinking #1.5) Page 6