Wrong Side Of The Bed

12 | the wrong side of the bed.

CHRISTIAN'S P.O.V

SPRAWLED ACROSS THE BED with a worried Lucas sitting on the edge wasn't how I had envisioned this party to go.

"I am good," I said, but Lucas stopped me from sitting up with just one push of his hand. I groaned. What did this boy eat to achieve such strength?

"You might feel that right now, but you'll get worse," He spoke up, folding his hands neatly on his lap. "Or are you forgetting that you've a very low level of alcohol tolerance?"

I repeated his words to him in a nasal tone, mocking him before adding. "You're a very good friend but a pain in the arse, you know?"

He smiled. "That's all you, Christian. Especially the pain in the arse part."

I snapped my head towards him to give him a quick jeer but I was overcome by a sudden dizziness. I groaned.

"Are we sure that they spiked the punch only with alcohol and not with any narcotics?"

He shook his head and then exhaled sharply, burying his right hand in the right pocket of his jacket, and my eyes followed his action, ignoring the blue stain on his jacket that stood out like a sore thumb on the red of the school jacket. I wondered for a moment if the stain was ink or something else, but then bit back my question and swallowed them along with the granola bar that Lucas dug out of his pocket and threw at me. I felt a wave of nausea pass through me, but it was gone as fast as it hit me. "Eat," He said.

"You're nice," I said after a moment as I chewed slowly. "Jannat is nice too."

He tilted his head back, peering upwards, where a sweet little chandelier and a ceiling fan was attached to the ceiling. "Really?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding earnestly. "You're pretty, she is too."

He turned his gaze to me, assessing me with twinkling eyes and burning curiosity. "Is that so?"

"Mhm," I hummed in agreement, taking another hearty bite. "You two will be nice together."

He guffawed. "Is that so, Christian?"

"Yeah," I murmured before tugging at the sleeve of my shirt and wiping my mouth with it. "So, I think you should date her. She likes you, you know?"

He let out a quiet laugh, slapping my leg. "Why do you think I should date her? Just because she likes me?"

I clicked my tongue. "That's one of the many reasons why you should date her. But the main reason is that she is exactly your type."

"Pray, tell, what is my type?"

"You know, Jannat's vibe? Bright hair. Brighter smiles and the brightest eyes. Soft lips. Busy cities and driving at night with the windows down. An apartment filled with friends. Wild heart. Delicate cutlery. Flashing lights. Large windows, narrow streets. High, expensive heels on cobblestones. Leather bags. Orange sunsets. The glow of streetlights. Satin shirts. Yearning at midnight when no one else knows. Probably writing secret poetry."

He leaned forward, reached out and patted me on the cheek gently, his fingers rough against my smooth skin. "Now, be quiet and think back to the description you gave. Whose type does it seem more — yours or mine? And I don't think it's a specific vibe you gave, I think you just described whatever reminded you of Jannat."

I was about to open my mouth and deny it — because hell, how could the girl I have despised for so long be my type? — when there was a loud bang and the lights went out. A lot of noise came from downstairs and around.

"Holy shit," Lucas cursed after a moment, and I felt him standing up. "What the hell just happened?"

My gaze turned towards the window, and I grabbed my phone. "Wait, let me go to the window and scream. Someone will answer."