~Scömìche One Shots~

Wasted

my account's been so dead latelyhahaha. you know what else has?? scomiche lol???!?!??#?#**$*&

"Okay, so what's your goal tonight, Brenda?"

I give Scott a look, sipping my totally-just-pure-water-in-a-bottle-no-joke (vodka) and smirking.

"I'm gonna get me a few drinks," by a few I mean more than I can count, "charm the bartender into more drinks for free, get tipsy," absolutely drunk off my ass, "and then find a nice guy to take home. It's what she deserves."

"You and me both, bitch. Sounds like a plan." Scott snatches the bottle of water from my hand and takes a long swig. His face twists in discomfort and he coughs slightly. "Jesus that's... Refreshing..."

The Uber driver catches his eye in the review mirror but still pretends to clueless. I stifle my giggles as he pulls up to the location. We thank him and I grab Scott's sleeve as we shuffle closer to the entrance of the booming club. It's already nearing midnight, so I can see the lights at full flash and feel the muffled bass bouncing against my eardrums. My heartbeat picks up, my emotions a pie graph of nerves, excitement, and anxiety at the amount of people already there.

"Wow, you look stunning Mitchy." He says as I fiddle with the cuffs of my top. I strike a pose and serve some face in Scott's direction as a response. "Slay!" He laughs.

"You look great too, dad. I have a good feeling about tonight, for the both of us."

"Hey, come to think of it, one of us has to go home with whoever we find. Either you or I or both, especially since I don't want to hear you screaming all night long." I slap his arm, but that seems to encourage him. He laughs, then starts grinding the air, exaggerating high pitched, obnoxious moans of various names like "Papi" and "Daddy". I pretend to shield my eyes, a laugh escaping my glossed lips.

"Shut up, I could say the same thing about you." He finally stops, thank god, and I roll my eyes at his sloppy grin. "Are you drunk already??"

"Text me all of the nasty details in the morning," he rushes, ignoring my question, "and don't let him stay."

"I would never."

"Okay, have fun and get laid."

"You too!" I giggle, watching as he eagerly pays the bouncer and makes his way inside. "She's excited," I state, to no one in particular.

I straighten my scarf, praising myself for choosing only my best Balenciaga tonight. I feel my confidence bubble up as I start for the door, knowing I look damn good right know.

My goal: find a hot guy.

Another goal: don't get completely wasted.

~morning~

I got completely wasted.

I squint one eye open, ignoring the urge to whimper at the pounding in the entirety of my brain. The light shining through not only intensifies my splitting headache, but indicates that's it's roughly noon.

I clap my hand over my smile as I remember last night. The absolute god that I danced with after my 7th, I think, drink. I don't even remember his name, yet he knew absolutely everything about me, from the words to use to the places to kiss. Where the Hell this guy came from, I have no idea. Heaven? Or even, more accurately, the actual underworld. I remember the divine Uber ride home, then the couch. And.. The counter... The back of my door.... And finally my bed. Scott doesn't have to know about any of those but the latter.

Nevertheless, this man was a literal god.

I fumble for my phone beside me, rushing through a long, detailed text to "Scottina" about last night. I tell him everything. I read back through it as the text delivers, reminiscing. I'm snapped out of my dreamlike state at the sound of a buzz just feet from where I'm laying.

My eyes widen.

~~~

I thought it was funny