The Changed (Completed)

Chapter Eleven: Never Have I Ever

I nearly choked on the drink, "oh, okay."

Wesley scoffed, "Ava, this is practically your first time drinking. Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Ava frowned, "That's not true, Diana and I snuck her dad's whiskey a few times and got drunk at hers."

Wesley grinned mockingly, "Sure you did."

"Well I'm down to play," I said, wanting to disagree with Wesley.

Ava smiled, "Okay, let's play never have I ever."

"Classy, Ava," Wesley said sipping his drink.

"I'll go first," Ava said, "Never have I ever been kidnapped."

We all drank.

"Your go, Margo," Ava encouraged.

I thought for a moment, "Never have I ever been drunk," I said.

Wesley and Ava both drank. Even though I hadn't been drunk, I drank as well.

"You're supposed to say something you haven't done," Wesley said.

I blushed, "Oh, my bad."

A few more rounds of 'never have I ever' and my head was feeling suspiciously light. I cackled uncontrollably when Ava said, never have I ever had sex. Not so shockingly, Wesley was the only one to drink. Though, his dark eyes met mine for a moment as if to see if I would drink as well. My glass stayed on the table.

I'd always thought my first time drinking would be with my mom. It might have sounded strange to someone popular, but my mom was my closest friend. I wouldn't be drunk at a party, I would be tipsy on the couch, finally joining her in wine and rom-com night.

"Hey, I didn't say never have I ever yet," Ava complained. I'd subconsciously been sipping. Maybe to prevent the tears from trickling down my cheeks. My eyes were beginning to sting. I looked away, murmuring an apology. Geez, why was I feeling so emotional? It had to have been the alcohol–I was usually far better at hiding my feelings.

"Your go, Margo," said Ava, moving her curly hair from her shoulder, "I think you can say something you've done at this point–we're running out of prompts."

"Never have I ever lost someone I loved," I cringed as the words came out of my mouth. The cup knocked against my teeth as I hurried to take a gulp.

Wesley took a swig. He avoided my gaze. His face, regardless of how handsome, was in a permanent scowl. How could someone so cold be capable of love?

His expression was dark and Ava's was wide-eyed and shocked. I looked back and forth between them. Why were they looking at me like that? Had I said that out loud?

My answer was confirmed by Wesley slamming his empty glass on the table. He rose quickly, sulking toward the hallway.

"What's his problem?" I asked, shaking my head as if I had been kidding around.

Ava's nail was between her teeth. She looked toward the hallway in time to hear one of the bedroom doors close, "It's nothing, it's just...I don't know if I should tell you."

"Tell me what?" I leaned in, nearly falling over as my hand almost missed the couch cushion.

Ava tore her eyes from the hall, "He lost his girlfriend," she said as quietly as she could, "Her name was Livvy."

"How did she die?" I felt like my throat was closing. Geez, so I was super insensitive. And I was so drunk, that I thought I might cry, which was a shocking level of sympathy for someone who didn't care whether or not I lived.

"The illness," Ava drank despite only melting ice remaining in her glass, "The worst part is, Wes thinks he infected her. I told him so many times that it could have been anyone. I mean, this disease was created to kill everyone our age."

I nodded. My glass almost shattered, dropping from my hand and rolling across the table. The little liquid that remained spilled on the wood, "Let me grab some paper towels," I slurred, standing up and having to catch myself on the back of the couch to keep from falling over.

The kitchen was a blur of dim lights and white counters as I searched the cabinets for something to wipe the mess. By the time I found an old rag beneath the sink and returned to the living room, Ava was asleep on the couch.

My stomach was in knots. I left the rag on the table and headed for the master bedroom. If I could just lie down for a second. My aunt and her husband watched me with judgy eyes from their picture frames as I stumbled down the hallway.

My toe slammed against a dresser as I entered the dark bedroom. The curtains were drawn. Not even moonlight could guide me to the bed.

Feeling along the furniture as if I were blind, I finally found the soft duvet and metal railing. Reaching further in search of pillows, my hand landed on something incredibly warm and skin-like. I nearly screamed, yanking my hand back.

My wrist was grabbed midair so I slammed whatever held it with my opposite hand. Stumbling with the force of my blow, I fell over on top of the bed.

"Argh, let me go!"

"You're insane," Wesley said in the dark, releasing my wrist, "I thought you were an intruder, nope, just a pervert."

"Pervert?" I asked drunkenly, backing away from the bed in disgust. I tripped over my own feet and found myself on the floor with a sore bottom. Everything hurt. I couldn't be bothered to get back up.

"Yes, pervert," he rolled over in the dark, "And drunk, now get out."

I tried to remember that this was potentially someone who was lashing out because they were grieving, "Listen, I'm sorry about your girlfriend," I tried to sound sincere. It was surprisingly difficult when drunk. Everything sounded like I was on the verge of dying laughing.

"Get out," he repeated, his tone unflinching.

"Alright, alright," I tried to stand only to fall back down. The movement angered my stomach. I swallowed, tasting bile, "Turn the light on," I demanded.

"No."

"I need the bathroom," I crawled in the direction of the master bath. I could hardly remember the layout of the room. I'd only been in there a few times. However, the last thing I wanted was to scrub vomit out of the carpet, "I'm going to be sick," I warned.

The light flicked on, just in time for me to find the door handle. 

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