Blood [h.s]

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                                                                      Thanks for opening Blood!

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Drinking isn't for the weak.

Actually, being this drunk isn't for the weak. I didn't know that before tonight, but I know it now. My brain feels like it's wading through wet cement, and my tongue keeps tripping on every sentence before it even leaves my mouth.

"Yo, take this!" Someone in front of me yells.

The voice slices through the music, but the person it belongs to looks like someone smeared him with motion blur. My vision can't hold onto him long enough to make sense of his face.

I blink hard, trying to anchor myself. "What is it?" I yell back, and even I can hear how sloppy my voice sounds, like each word comes out half-melted.

He tilts the cup toward me. "Vodka, Red Bull, and Pink Whitney." His smirk is sharp enough for me to see even through the haze.

I laugh, too loud and too delayed. "That sounds like a death sentence."

"It's good, trust me." He leans closer, too close. I feel the warmth of his breath against my ear, and it makes my stomach lurch. "It'll make you feel better."

My brows scrunch. My brain tries to process his words, but everything feels like it's on a five-second delay. "I'm not sick."

He gives this dry, shallow laugh. "I was just holding your hair up ten minutes ago, Thatcher."

I freeze. My mind starts flipping through blank pages. I have absolutely no memory of that, of him, of the bathroom, of anything. His face doesn't unlock anything in my head. But the way he says my name... he must know me from somewhere.

"Oh." It's the only thing I manage. "Are you sure it's good?"

He nods like a salesman desperate for a commission. "It's really good. Your friend Allie liked it."

He looks over his shoulder and jerks his chin toward her. Allie's dancing with some guy I've never seen, her blonde hair bouncing in a loose ponytail, the colored lights catching the strands like tinsel.

If Allie liked it, then maybe... maybe it's fine?

I shrug and take the cup from him. The second the liquid hits my tongue, it scorches down my throat. My stomach twists instantly, like I swallowed fire.

"Jesus—!" My face contorts and he bursts out laughing.

"It's good, right?" he grins, already fishing a joint out of his pocket like this is all one big joke to him.

I shove his shoulder, not hard, just annoyed. "You dick. It's disgusting. I'm not drinking this."

I'm laughing, but my nerves are crawling under my skin.

"Oh, c'mon!" he says, hands up like he's innocent while I shove the cup back at him.

"You can have that back."

I push past him, my steps wobbly and uncertain. The room feels like it's breathing, lights flashing blue, then green, then blue again, the crowd moving in slow waves. I squint, trying to find Allie's blonde ponytail again.