That night at the bonfire, I found myself letting loose around Rocky's family. I felt like one of them, or like I had known them forever. There was no weirdness or filtering by then, either. All of us had enough to drink that we were speaking freely and having the time of our lives. Rocky proved to me yet again that he was a musical god, but eventually I had enough wine and wanted to go back up to my room.
Shortly after I attempted the walk from the sand onto solid ground I felt a large hand on my shoulder, "Let me help you." Rocky said lowly.
"I'm fine," I told him with a struggle as I climbed the staircase.
Rocky didn't look like he was having any easier of a time making his way up. Although he showed a lot more composure than I did. I was groaning and laughing as I gripped the railing with both hands.
The floor didn't feel any more even at the too of the stairs. "Here's your stop," Rocky pointed to the cracked open door of his room that I had been staying in. "I guess I'll go to bed too," he slurred.
"Okay," I grabbed his hand. At first it was to stop him from leaving, but it turned into a necessity. I was getting dizzy and needed him for balance. "I'm dizzy," I could feel my inhibitions melting away because of the liquor and I couldn't do anything to stop it.
He smiled a crooked smile and led me into the room and onto the comfortable bed. "You need to sit down," he chuckled, "before you hurt yourself."
"Everything is moving," I admitted, wavering a little. Then I laid back onto my back and shut my eyes. "This kinda helps."
When I heard some shuffling near my head, I cracked one eye open and saw that he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the night stand. He closed his eyes as well and I noticed how long his eyelashes really were. A light red color tinted his cheeks and he had hair matted to his forehead that had come loose from his bun. "Why are you on the floor?" I asked. "Isn't that uncomfortable?"
"This knob digging into my neck hurts like a bitch," he admitted.
"Come sit up here with me." I patted the empty space next to me. "There's plenty of space up here for both of us."
"Crosses a line, Nicole," he slurred.
"We're drunk and in your bedroom. I just spent a weekend with your family. We're DRUNK!" I started to giggle a lot and started to cough before I recollected myself. "What fucking line is there left to cross?"
He let an airy laugh escape his mouth, though I'm pretty sure he was laughing at my own snickers and giggles than my actual words. "Just hand me a pillow," he said. I tossed him the pillow with the green pillowcase and he positioned it behind his neck. "Much better," he sighed.
There was a moment of silence between us that could have been awkward, except that awkwardness basically disappears when you're under the influence. "Do you want to talk or something?" I asked him, rolling onto my stomach and propping my head up with my arms.
"What about?" He opened his eyes once again and looked at me. For the first time, I was close enough to really see his eyes. They were darker from far away, but up close they were speckled with greens and browns. "Stop staring at me," he caught me.
"Let's just play twenty questions," I suggested. "No matter what, we have to answer honestly." He hummed in response but then followed it with a couple of quick nods. "You go first," I offered.
"Hmm," he chewed on his bottom lip, then cleared his throat. "Have you ever broken any bones?"
I rolled my eyes. "Lame question. I shut my finger in a car door when I was in elementary school and refused to go to the doctor because I was too scared." I held up my index finger on each hand in front of him. "If you compare how they feel, you can tell which one was broken. Go ahead, just run your finger down the side of them," I demonstrated what I wanted him to do.
