✔︎ | Part of Me (Trilogy)

31 | this is my fault

31 | this is my fault

 I wanted this

By the time we leave Helen's house, I've had about four beers and too many shots of other strange alcohols that I can't even remember the names of. I'd be disappointed in myself if I wasn't already pretty drunk. I don't get drunk. I don't drink, do drugs, go to parties. It's maybe a little too late for that now, but something feels really off, and it's not just my coordination as I clutch onto Helen for support, who is much better at handling her drinks than I am, apparently.

I can't stop thinking, thinking of everything other than just that stupid-drunk-teenager kind of fun we're supposed have at parties.

Tasha throws up in the bushes before we open the little gate into a walkway in front of the house, the EDM blasted on high, streaming from the house with bright, flashing lights. My mind and body aren't connected, it seems, as the girls pull me into the crowd of sweating bodies and dance, and going completely against what I would usually do in this situation, I dance too, moving my body back and forth, whipping my hair, and grooving.

Someone tugs on my hand, and I suspect its my sober self begging me to stop embarrassing myself.

I turn to Tanner instead, and a surge of anger washes over me. "You asshole!" I yell, having the alcohol to blame for my sudden behaviour. I hit his shoulder and scream, "I can't believe you ditched me at work to get drunk. What even are you trying to prove?"

He points to his ears, laughing and mouthing, "can't hear!"

He slips his arm around my waist and pulls me away from my friends, leading me upstairs to a quieter room. He kisses my neck and whispers, "what were you saying?"

"You ditched me at work," I mumble as his hands find their way up my shirt and he crashes into me, slamming the door behind us.

"Sorry," he chuckles, biting down on his lip, his eyes filled with passion as the streetlight shines through the curtains and leaves the room in a haze. He falls forward, burying his face in my neck, his lips soft against my skin as he mumbles, his voice rough, "let me make it up to you." And then everything happens so quickly. He's kissing me, hot and heavily, the kind of kiss that leads to so much more than just kissing.

I'm pulled back into his strong arms, holding me tightly, too tightly, and we bump into the edge of something and fall, my back hitting a mattress. I giggle out nervously, my head spinning, unable to concentrate on what's going to happen next. I don't even know whose bed this is, the covers cool beneath my body as Tanner lifts me, crawling further onto the bed, and plops me down, my head against a pillow. It smells like lavender. It smells like everything is going to be okay, and yet, there's something dark in the air, probably the stench of alcohol on Tanner's breath and in my mouth: two drunk teenagers making stupid decisions at stupid parties.

But he kisses me harder, unbothered by the fact that this bed belongs to neither of us, that we're at a party, with groups of teenagers partying a floor below us. He promised this wouldn't happen here. That this couldn't happen here.

"Tannie," I whisper when his lips move down my jaw, his hand sliding into the waistline of my leggings, curling his fingers below my legs. "Tannie!" I whine louder, "I thought this was a bad place. You said, after last time—"

"I don't care anymore," he shakes his head, his blonde hair tickling my neck. "I want you now."

He sucks on my lips and I laugh out, my hands running up his spine under his shirt. "Me too," I admit, a groan escaping my throat when his fingers push deeper. My hair sticks to my face, sweating, and I pant, begging him, and say, "Tannie. I have the house to myself. I want to go to my bed."

"I can't drive," he growls, and there's an edge to his voice that scares me, and the sudden shock in my chest doesn't leave after a few seconds. I'm scared. I'm really scared. This is my first time. I don't know if he knows. We've never talked about it. We've never talked about sex in general, other than wanting to do it. He seems to notice that something is up, well, other than his know what, and whispers, "it'll be okay."

It doesn't console me at all. But he's here now, and so am I, and his shorts are unbuckled and he's protected, and I'm protected, and if I give it a few more minutes, it'll be over already.

Tanner presses his lips against mine, and I realize that this can't happen now, or here. I shove him, because he's kissing me so forcefully I cant find the air or voice to tell him 'no'. I snap into reality. He doesn't move. I feel numb. I'm in pain. I try to scream but I choke, and I can't see anything, I can't feel anything. Maybe it's over, maybe its done, maybe it's the alcohol. I wanted this. I wanted it so badly. I did.

I hear my name. At first I think it's Tanner whispering my name, calming me down because I'm just overthinking everything. And then I realize my name is being yelled. And Tanner is still kissing me, and I don't want to him to kiss me, and I don't want to be here, and I want that voice to find me.

Light breaks into the room when the door flies open and I squeeze my eyelids shut instinctively. I peek out, squinting, and a figure at the end of the bed is yanking Tanner off of me, and I feel so much lighter when I'm no longer in his touch.

A fist finds its way into Tanner's face. Everything comes back to me, the music, the singing of teenagers, the smell, and Tanner falls to the floor without a fight, groaning, clutching his nose.

I can't help but stare at him. This is my fault.

Hands shake my shoulders and I come back again, meeting those familiar eyes full of affection, and I can't understand anything the boy is saying, but I know him somehow, and I know he's going to help me. He takes my hand into his and soon I'm running after him, down the stairs I climbed before, faces turning towards me, looking, gazing. I avoid their glances and keep myself from toppling over.

The fresh night air smacks me in the face when I tumble outside, my legs giving out underneath me.

Arms catch me, and I lace mine around the back of a neck and sob. I don't know why I'm crying. I'm drunk. I'm tired.

I give up and just let my body go, and squeeze my eyes shut, praying to wake up in my bed. Moments pass, and I'm not in bed, but I'm no longer restless, my heart no longer pounding out of me chest. I'm at ease, and I'm floating as someone carrying me walks down the sidewalk, my legs wrapped around their waist, my hot face in the nape of their neck, holding onto them like my life depends on it.

Thank God they got there when they did. I didn't know what I was doing, and neither did my boyfriend.

"Will?" I murmur.

No answer.

I wait.

My back touches something soft, and an engine starts, humming softly, lulling me to sleep.