The Thoughts Of A Wandering Mind

"Just a Sip, my friend."

"Paolo had just one drink and told himself, over and over, there was never anything wrong with one.  But when one cup leads to more questions than answers, Paolo tells himself... he was better off sober."

*

It's funny how quickly things can go left. That's what they say, right?

I only wanted to go to that New Year's party, only wanted to see my friends drunk and high. They were funny little assholes like that and I always got a kick out of them. Me? I was never the life of the party, but I sure as well could be a parasite — for the lack of a better word. I mooched on the humor, latched onto the jokes.

I was that guy.

And that's possibly what she saw in me.

The woman held the cup in front of me. Sounds of the party music rippled through the clear liquid. It was strong, smelled like rum, but I wasn't much of a drinker. Anything heavier than a wine cooler sent me spinning. And I wasn't down to dance tonight. I had to work in the morning.

"Come on." The woman's hips, hugged with tight red jeans, swayed to the song. I looked up at her face. I had to admit, she was beautiful. Skin, a perfect shade of light brown, seemed to glisten in the party's dim light. Her eyes were dark, like night. But when she smiled, they glowed. I may not have liked the drink in her hand, but I sure as hell liked the smile.

I smirked, running my hand over my knee as I leaned back against the couch cushion. Everyone danced around us. My friends had abandoned me for a quick smoke outside. And I guess I was cool being seated in front of Miss Mysterious. Something to entertain me while I was alone.

"I don't drink," I said, shaking my head. I kept my eyes on hers as she smiled, inching the glass forward. Again, I had to say, "I don't drink."

"Liar," she cooed.

The tone of her voice made me cock a brow. "How am I lyin'?" I asked. "Did you see me drink tonight?"

"Actually, yeah." Both of her hands cupped the glass, and she inched closer. "You had a cooler or two, right?"

"One." I lifted my finger. "I had one cooler and I, well..." I glanced around the party, eyeing the couples dancing closely, hip to hip. Laughing, I looked back at her. "I nursed that bottle for an hour. Unlike everyone else here."

"Oh?" The woman, not taking no for an answer, offered me the drink again. "You won't nurse this one, I promise."

"But I don't drink." I pushed the glass away. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"No?" The woman's eyes widened as the music stopped. I thought it would change just as fast as it'd done before. But the pause, the grumbles and complaints from those around, meant the DJ was having a little more trouble than normal.

And the woman used the silence to her advantage.

"Just a sip." She wiggled the glass and drops of rum landed on my pants. When we locked eyes, she smiled again. "Just a sip, my friend."

Friend? I glanced around the open living room for my friends. They weren't around, probably still outback. The dancers, fueled by alcohol, were ready to openly yell at the DJ until the next song played. And as the notes filled the air, calmer, smoother than the last, the anger subsided. Couples hugged.

And I looked back at the woman who called me her friend.

I'm a needy piece of shit, aren't I?

"Well?" She wiggled the cup again. "You gon' sip or what?"

The drink seemed to look at me. For a second, I thought there was a fire on top of it. But I knew it had to be my brain playing tricks on me, and the flames had to be the light from the ceiling above us.