The Fate Of Broken Hearts

Chapter 25

"Jesus, you're so drunk you can't even walk straight." Aiden huffed from beside me. "Admit it. You need my help."

"Let go of me." I tugged my arm away.

My eyes, as heavy as they were, failed to settle on a single place once the colors returned back to me. They scattered and watched as the walls became a part of something else. My brain tried to comprehend what was going on, to make a first step in the right direction, yet no matter how hard I tried, my legs gave out and swayed the opposite direction, making me even dizzier than I was.

I will not admit I need his help.

I tried to make sense of what was going on, why I was suddenly unable to walk straight or see straight. My throat was dry, my lips chapped, and even though I swallowed many times, they remained that way without change.

"I don't need your help!" I yanked my arm away from him when he saw I was stumbling and reached out to me.

"Pushing me away won't help you, Emma. Just grab onto me." His hand grazed against mine, that mere touch enough to make me want to crawl into a ball and cry.

"I don't want you anywhere near me!" I could already feel the tight ball forming at the bottom of my throat.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with me just as much as I was with him.

I made my way through the hallway on my own, hugging the walls so I could empty my stomach before I would have to clean up vomit from the hardwood floors.

Aiden followed close behind but didn't try to touch me again. Well, at least not until I got on my knees and went through another horrible round of nausea. His hands didn't hesitate to gather my hair in his large hands and hold it away from my face.

It was here that I made a promise to myself to never get drunk again. I could barely understand how people liked doing this every other weekend. Losing control over their movement, their speech, their morals, none of that was me.

Once I thought it was over, I sat back against the tiles and felt his fingers slowly fall through my hair soothingly.

I wiped at the tears that stung at my eyes and shook my head, observing him as he left the bathroom in strides.

When he reappeared, he had come back with a glass of water in his hand and the other established on a semi-closed fist.

"Here." He handed me the glass and a pill. "It'll help with the headache." He added.

When I held my hand open and he placed the pill inside, I inspected the two things curiously. It wasn't the fact I suspected it was poison, but the fact he had cared just enough to offer it to me.

Deciding not to dwell on his intentions too much, I swallowed the pill whole and drank the entirety of the glassful of water in a large gulp. The dryness in my throat from before eased some but not completely.

"How is it that I am over here, throwing up everything I've eaten in the last two days with only a few shots of vodka, while you are over there, just fine?" I asked him.

"It's called a tolerance. You have never been drunk before, which means you have a low tolerance to it."

I raised my brows. "You've drunk a lot, then?"

"Yes."

"With or without the blonde?" I cover my mouth instantly.

"That wouldn't be any of your business, would it?" He leaned back on the sink, looking down at me.

"Oh, really?" I chuckled, removing my hand from my mouth. "I thought, since you were basically having sex with her on the couch in front of anyone, maybe it might be." I shrugged with a smirk. "My bad..."