Just Fake It

CH3 : Like A Marshmallow

"Finally, you were missing the party, Bitch!" Mila says right in my ear.

I pass by a guy holding a tray of shot glasses and drown the first two I get a hold on. I need a few of them in my system before I'm able to be nice to Mila. Her dad is my mom's TV show producer, so I have to be extra nice to her. One bad word from her to her dad and you better believe my mom will be bitching at me for a while.

Mila likes to think that all the crazy shit we do at parties together means that she has something to hold over my head, but the girl's too dumb to realize that she does every little stupid thing along with me.  I see Mike and Jake whiz through the crowd discretely, and smile at myself. Arm flung in the air, hips moving to every thump of the bass, I dance my way around the open space where everyone is rubbing up against each other.

This is exactly what I need. I need to zone out, feel good, happy, so I accept every drink passed my way. Pretty soon I stop forgetting who I'm dancing with or whose hands are snaking up my legs. Mila's the one to hold her hand up at me from the table she's standing on.

I wonder if Derek is putting her up to this, but the eruption of cheers and wolf whistles make me stop caring. I want to laugh and have people cheer for me. I crave the high.

So I dance with Mila on top of a table and let her take my dress off slowly in front of all the sweaty greedy guys under us. I start having these brief flashes where I'm not sure where I am and maybe I've fallen asleep or something because it feels like I'm waking up to something disorienting every five minutes.

Then I see it, flashes of it. It's no longer Mila's hands that are taking my dress off, and it's not my dress that's being hitched up. The hands are larger in my mind. The fingers flash, before I blink and I'm back at the party with everyone still chanting my name.

But I can't get my dad's face out of my mind and I start crying, right there, in front of the entire student body. I start crying in my underwear and nobody notices because I'm now standing off to the side while Mila starts taking her clothes off herself.  I don't know how many hours have passed or where the hell Mike is.

I suddenly need him. I want him to come rescue me. I want someone to get me off this table and give me another drink, anything.

Then I feel it, someone's hands snake up at my calves and swing me over their shoulder. My ass is in the air and I can't breathe for a minute. I snap my neck up to see, but my head's too heavy for my body at the moment. I will myself to try again and the first sight I see again is Mike standing next to the front door frame with a concerned look on his face.

If it's not Mike holding me then who is it? The person holding me turns around and all sight of Mike is lost. The cold air hits my butt while I ponder the fact that the house is getting smaller now that we're outside.

I'm deposited in the backseat of a car. The leather makes my exposed skin cling to it like honey on bread. I'm tired, oh so tired, when I watch Mike get into the driver's seat and Jake follow in the passenger side. It was probably him, I realize.

"You can't go home like this." Mike says. His voice is tight, but no matter how clear he is my thoughts are too foggy to comprehend.

"What time is it?" I croak out. I'm done crying but a little sober part of me knows that my makeup must be all smeared on my face. At least I didn't sleep with anyone tonight. I think. No, it was mostly dancing and then the memories.

 "Four." Jake's voice doesn't tell me anything. Time has flown me by without a trace. It's what I wanted from the start, but now that the hours have passed and I can't remember what I did I start to feel lost.

 "We're gonna crash at Jake's okay?" Mike is talking to me like as if I were a little kid.

I don't have the energy to do anything but nod. For some crazy reason, when we reach the house, it hits me that I'm still wearing my thigh high boots. I'm in my underwear and bra, and boots. I don't know where my dress is. I must look ridiculous. I follow the guys up the front yard, struggling to take my shoes off. One boot has been zipped all the way down and drags behind me on the grass.

The house is totally silent when we all walk in, except for me, I'm being loud as hell. I can't help it though, no matter how much I keep shushing myself. I literally yell at myself to shut up. I wonder why I'm not waking up anyone in the house and I yell my concerns.

"My mom's at the ER and Chace sleeps like the dead, now stop yelling." Jake says, smiling but shaking his head at me. I watch him turn a lamp on in the living room.

"Is she sick?" I ask. I don't know why the thought of her being sick is making me emotional. I've never even met the woman. I know their dad isn't around, which makes me even sadder because I have to deal with mine.

"No, she's a doctor there." Jake is being super patient, while Mike hasn't said a word.

"Why don't you go through the hall to the guest room," Jake walks up to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. I want to hug him because he's being super sweet, but I think it might make me cry again.

"It's the third door to the left." Are the last words he says before he gives me a gentle push. I don't argue and start heading in the direction he points me to.

The hall isn't lit at all so I have to feel my way down it. My hands brush over doorknobs and door indentions on the wall, before I finally push one open. The room is twice as dark as the hall if that's even possible.

Even sober I would have stumbled in, so my drunk entrance is definitely not pretty. I knock something over that thankfully doesn't break because the floor is soft under my six inch heels, which means I'm on carpet, or a huge marshmallow. I get on my knees and lick the ground, wondering if it's really a marshmallow. I'm rewarded by a tongue full of lint. Yup, not a marshmallow, definitely a carpet. My left boot is still laying dead next to my calf, so I pull it off and fling it. I hear it hit something solid, so I do the same thing with my other boot.

My hands are outstretched in front of me, until my knees hit something soft that I hope is a mattress and not another marshmallow impersonator. I crawl over the soft comforter under me until I reach the end of it. I realize it's the end when I hit my head on the headboard. I make some sort of weird gurgle noise at the pain, before pulling the sheets down and tucking my feet under them.

The bed feeling like a marshmallow is the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep.

Thanks for reading :)