Phil Lester
"You good there?" PJ swings an arm around my shoulders as I gulp down another shot of vodka, feeling the scorching burn to the very pit of my stomach. It is only around five in the evening and I feel awful for drinking this early, but Dan is preoccupying my mind and I need a distraction from our constant back and forth.
"Thank you for bringing me here," I shout over the clamouring music and lean into his grip, asking for another shot.
"You're welcome babe," PJ murmurs in my ear, kissing my cheek in the process and tightens his grip around me. I brush it off as a friendly gesture and take down the clear shot placed in front of me, closing my eyes in the process. I don't know how much I've had, I lost count after four. I feel lightheaded, extremely lightheaded as I drag my feet towards the dance floor, PJ lurking close behind me.
My movements are slow, and my insecurities and self consciousness are pushed far back in my mind as I move my body, for the first time not caring how I look and who's watching. Heat radiates off my skin, a thin layer of sweat coating it and soon enough I feel two large hands placed against my hips. I turn behind too quickly, causing dizziness to take over me for a short second and I find myself leaning closer to the person behind me. For a moment I contemplate if it's Dan and so I make another attempt to turn around, surprised to find PJ close behind me, to the point where we are almost touching. It feels awkward and surreal but then I remember that PJ is straight so I quit thinking about it and continue moving my body to the music, closing my eyes to escape the flashing lights.
It's five minutes later, when I feel PJ pressed up behind me, goosebumps raising on my body from the sudden contact. It feels weird and irrational to do something like this and even after having a number of shots, something in my body tells me to pull away as soon as I feel PJ's mouth on my neck.
"PJ, what are you doing?" My voice is low and my breathing is staggered from the dancing as I attempt to pull out of his grip but he just whines, pulling me closer to him and biting down on my neck. What the fuck.
"What the fuck PJ!" I yell at him, nudging him harshly in the ribs with my elbow and he stumbles back, wide eyed. He seems too drunk to notice the disappointed glare I am shooting him so he just slurs an apology and excuses himself, getting lost somewhere in the crowd.
My tension returns with every step I take towards the bar and I can feel the affect of vodka minimising. My head aches by the time I order another line up of shots, hoping nothing else will happen that might mess up my mind. My eyes rake over the set of shots placed in front of me and I take a deep breath before pressing my lips to each glass one by one and intaking the toxic liquid. I can almost feel the alcohol buzzing in my veins by the time I take my last shot, my knees buckling and my eyes closing.
Fuck I've had too much.
I take a seat on the bar stool and hold my head in my hands, feeling my stomach churning at even the sight of alcohol. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I drink so much so quick? That's why you shouldn't over estimate yourself. I pick my head off, feeling the entire bar swinging around me as I stand back on my feet which are almost numb, and make my way to the nearest room.
I need to lay down or I might pass out.
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