Irresistible Love

Chapter Fourteen// Sober & Drunk

Ethan Suave~

It was well past seven o'clock, my car was at a half a tank of gas, and my phone was at twenty-four percent.

From the time I left Elle's house to then, I had been out and about, roaming the streets aimlessly. Where this goddamn girl could've been was beyond me. But as I parked my car into a playground parking lot and plugged my phone into the car charger, I realized that my mind had lapsed the thought of checking my last resort: social media.

I unlocked my phone and allowed my eyes to scan my Twitter feed. All I saw were pictures of girls from my school with their breasts pouring out of their tops. It was a endless cycle, and I wondered why an infinite amount of girls decided to post these licentious images of themselves all on the same night.

In between these sensual posts were tweets from my friends with drinking emojis and subtweets about getting laid.

Then I connected the dots--girls barely wearing clothes, boys frequently tweeting about their drunken state and sexually active selves--and came to the conclusion that it was because they were all at the same house party, a party that Paul had reminded me about the day before. It seemed to have slipped my mind during this search for Elle.

At last, my quest to find Elle was going to end at Paul's house because I knew that (1) I had no other places to look for her and (2) Devon would be there; the little shit wouldn't miss a party for the world.

And what house banger would be complete without both of the Suave brothers?

Elle Summerall~

I couldn't see for shit.

 But that didn't stop me from accepting another drink from...I actually could not tell who the source of my drinks was and, quite frankly, I couldn't remember who. All I knew was that this person had been feeding me drinks even before my mind was corrupted by the vile liquids, when I was sober.

"Have another one, Elle," he offered, his voice tangling with the other voices around us and voices in my head. Ah, yes. It is a he.

"Thank you," I slurred, holding onto the first thing my hand could reach for support.

Instead of letting me force my weight upon the object that I grabbed, the alcohol-supplier lent me his arm to rest upon. "Don't worry, babe. I got you."

Going to the point-guard of the basketball team's house was the last place I expected to find myself that evening. I had been sulking in my sorrows, in the news that my mother dropped upon me earlier that morning. But I knew I had to escape the restraints of my house; I couldn't breathe in the air that had been poisoned by my mother's words.

I went to Nicole's house as a getaway. She opened the door with eyeboogers in the crevasses of her eyes, causing her to squint. Her sweater was slipping off her shoulder and her hair was in a low ponytail.

She couldn't conceptualize who it was at her door.

I remember her rubbing her eyes and pulling me in when her vision cleared. I remember staining her sweater with my tears after I embraced her, explaining the reason for my sudden outburst. I remember being brought into her car to receive some complimentary ice cream for my agony. I remember seeing Lance at the ice cream parlor with that beautiful, reassuring smile of his after Nicole interpreted to him what I had told her. I remember walking past Paul's house by myself after the ice cream parlor and seeing the familiar faces gravitate towards his residence. I remember hearing someone--I can't recall who--urge me to go inside.

And that was the last thing I remembered.

Next thing I knew, I was taking drinks on drinks on drinks like there was no tomorrow. The first shot I consumed was merely a condolence shot that I took with my own permission. It was a drink that I assumed would drain away the pain that was flowing through the gutters of my veins and overpowering my blood cells.

The next drink, I assume, came as an offering from Alcohol-Supplier, which I willingly and stupidly accepted.

And then there I was, as wasted as could be, with my memory blurred and my vision misty. Everything around me seemed to have no definite figure and shape due to my depraved eyesight. The pounding music and the deafening talking and the mind-cluttering thoughts all linked together as one foreign language to me, causing a malfunction in the operations within my brain.

 In simpler terms, my head hurt so fucking bad. I wanted nothing more than to cower in a corner and cry...to cry about what my mother told me...to cry about how much of a shitty daughter I was to my dad, regardless of how much of an even shittier father he was to Amelia and I...to cry over the fact that I was surrounded by so many people yet I had never felt more alone.

"You need to rest as soon as possible," Alcohol-Supplier demanded. "I'll take you to a bedroom where you can lay."

I felt as if my speech had been impaired, and I could sense the burning sensation of the booze corrupting my vocal cords. Even if I could have talked, I would not have declined the offer. The idea of resting and laying on a bed sounded like the only remedy to my failed attempt at curing my grief through alcohol.

From what I can remember, he guided me up a few stairs with great care; it was a slow process, unless it was just me at the time and everything seemed to move at a tortoise's pace. Along the way, I loosened my grip onto whoever was maneuvering me because my arm began to feel numb. But he kept a hold of me, no matter how much like jelly my body turned into.

"There you go, babe," Alcohol-Supplier said. "Are you cozy on that bed?"

  My eyes closed at this time, and I nodded my head yes as a response, slowly noticing the disappearance of some of the many voices occupying my head. I felt a wave of relief crash over me as I began to gradually recollect my thoughts.

"That's good," he mumbled. Although my eyes were shut, I could feel Alcohol-Supplier creeping closer to me on the bed until his breath was inches from my face, easily fusing with my alcohol-induced respiration. "You are so beautiful, Elle. Do you know that?" His hand reached behind my ear to twist a few strands of my hair between his fingertips. "I've had my eyes on you for a while now, and I'm sure you're well aware of that."

I coiled my body even further to shield myself from Alcohol-Supplier, but he forcefully uncurled me, leaving me to whimper out of fear. As a sorry, he caressed my cheek, probably hoping to ease my nerves.

"I have been waiting to do this for a long time now," he whispered. His hand moved back and forth on my right thigh, almost getting too close to the vicinity of my private area, while his other hand was stationed on my cheek. I was sobbing on the inside, hoping that Alcohol-Supplier would stop touching me. Because that is all that a girl can do at a time of susceptibility. Hope.

The second he kissed me, my brain alerted me to prevent him from doing anything else. Yet, the messages were not getting through to my muscles because the alcohol that infiltrated my body had caused traffic in the messaging system of my person. As a result, I was left purely paralyzed.

No matter how hard the tears brimmed along the rims of my eyes because of the unwanted attention, no matter how much I wanted to kick this guy in the balls and make him regret that he was about to mess with me, no matter how hard I wanted to act tough and get myself out of that situation all on my own, I was defenseless.