32 // Hearts On Fire Tonight

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"we go together or we don't go down at all"

***

"What the fuck?"

A sobering gasp fell out of my mouth, the ridiculously wet sensation causing my skin to crawl and a disgusted shiver to charge down my spine.  My eyes shot open, I immediately jumped up from my seat. Isaac was leaning against the back of the couch, hands clamped over his mouth and an apologetic look drowning in his eyes.

Apology not accepted.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I swear to-"

The stench wafted up to my nose, and in combination with the wetness that clung to my skin, I could feel my gag reflex begin to awaken, interrupting my thought.  My gaze darted down to my chest, where he'd emptied out the entire contents of his stomach, all brown, green, and disgusting.

I think he ate pizza.

And if something didn't change in about two seconds, I was going to return the favour.

Barely even registering the faces of shock that surrounded me, I sprinted out of the room and up the stairs, struggling to get my shirt off at the same time. The longer it was touching me, the more it made my skin crawl. There was no time for modesty.

Was this me being punished for my loyal eyes straying?

Thankfully, a very clear path was carved out in front, probably from the odour that preceded my sprinting arrival. I'd finally managed to writhe out of my shirt, all my hard cereal box taping gone to waste.

At least I had worn a cute bra, I thought to myself as everyone's curious eyes drank me in. The very weak and barely tolerable silver living in the fact that someone had just thrown up on me.

Relief crashed over me as I finally slipped into the bathroom, never so thankful to be welcomed by freshly washed towels and running water. The shirt, despite being at an arm's length, was still very disgusting, and I immediately hurled it into the sink when my feet touched the cool tile.

Just as I was piling my hair in a bun, getting ready to give myself a truck-stop shower via sink because shame was obviously a thing of the past now, the door began to creak open. I paused, lowering my arms and prepared to karate-chop whichever dumb boy had decided to follow the half-naked girl into the bathroom. And I was not afraid to use my puke-shirt as a weapon.

Instead it was the light brown hair of Reese that appeared, who stepped in with a hand hovering over his eyes.

"I heard you got thrown up on," he said, sucking his teeth. "That's rough. Isaac really can't hold his liquour, I guess. Hey, are you naked?"

Before I could reply, I saw his fingers slowly begin to separate, and I gasped, covering my arms over my chest. "Basically! Why even ask?" I snapped, lips pursing.

He dropped his hand, shrugging with a sheepish grin. "You're wearing a bra, you're fine. Plus, it's nice to know you actually have something going on there. Who knew, am I right?"

I shot him a deathly glare, still hugging my chest. "Fuck you, I just got puked on."

Reese nodded his head, bringing up his other hand which held a light grey sweater I remembered him wearing the other night. "I know, and so Prince Charming over here came to save you. I okay'd it with Tyler, he said the shower's all your's. Turns out chivalry's not all dead. Also, my sweater, here, throw this on, just don't get your boob sweat on it."

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