Love Roulette

18

Eighteen
DELILAH

"I'm sorry." Mason slumps against the bathtub looking at me through hazy eyes. "Sorry, Delilah." He speaks out and signs at the same time and I shuffle over to him on my knees and run my fingers through his already messy hair. Grabbing a damp towel from the counter, I start wiping his face.

"You're stupid, you know that?" I whisper gently but don't drop the smile that is on my face. I pull his designer glasses from his face and wipe his eyes.

"I can't see now." He pouts and I roll my eyes.

"Why are you drunk?" This is my first question to him tonight. He hasn't thrown up yet, but his head keeps swaying and when I think he wants to throw up he just smiles and shuts his eyes.

"I'm drunk?" He whispers in bewilderment. Then he gasps. Like it's hit him how intoxicated he is. "Delilah, I'm drunk!" He grabs a hold of my hand, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Yes, you are." I laugh lightly, standing up and he lifts his head. "Are you going to be sick or not?"

"No. I just wanted to get you alone." He beams and my breath catches in my throat. He wants to get me alone?

"W-What?" I whisper, taking a step back.

He struggles to stand up from the floor, clutching onto the bathtub for support, but eventually when he does stand he towers over me with a lazy smile.

"You're very blurry right now. I can't see your pretty face." He slurs reaching out for the glasses that I'm holding.

"Sorry." I hand them back to him and he fumbles to put them back on. "You think, I'm pretty?" I can't help but question.

Drunk words are usually sober thoughts, so I might as well get some truths from him while he's in this state.

"I think you are so pretty. Prettiest girl I've ever seen. Y-You make my heart race like boom, boom." He beats his chest and grins like a Cheshire Cat. "Both of you make my heart race. I sometimes think I might have a heart attack." He whispers the last part like it's top secret.

Both?

He likes someone else too?!

Before I can ask him about it, the door swings open to reveal a concerned Gunner.

"You two have been in here for a while. You okay?" He raises his eyebrows, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

"We're good. Aren't we sweetheart?" Mason wraps his arms around my shoulder, leaning most of his body weight up against me. I grunt and try to hold him up as best as I can. "I was telling her how pretty she is. So, so pretty. Like a, like a..." He covers his hand over his mouth and lurches for the toilet, spluttering all the content from his stomach.

"Fucking hell." I hear Gunner mutter under his breath, staring at his best friend in disgust.

"Delilah, I've been sick." Mason groans and I sigh, crouching down to brush the strands of dark brown hair that stick to his sweaty forehead.

"How the hell have you survived life this long, hey?" I question, cringing when his face falls into the toilet bowl again, more sick flying out his mouth. "My God." I turn my head away and eye Gunner. His lips are pursed as he stares at the two of us with an unknown emotion in his ocean-blue eyes.

"Sorry." Mason whimpers and worry begins to mewl at me.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad at you, we've all been drunk like this before. You think I haven't fallen asleep by a toilet before filled with my own sick, dress bunched up at my waist with one shoe missing?" I question in a gentle tone, trying to make him feel better.