Carter is drunk. I don't know how or why, but from the way he's slurring and bumping into everything within a five foot radius, I know he's fucking drunk. Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
There's a reason I don't go to parties. Drunk people make me... uncomfortable. The last time I had to take care of someone after they've been drinking was when Maddie... I would do anything in my power to avoid going back home during the year, but I would turn into her babysitter during winter and summer break. Either holding her hair back while she threw up in the singular bathroom of our apartment, or dragging her out of a cab after she went out clubbing with her "friends." Just the smell of alcohol on someone's breath is enough to make me want to throw up. Most drink to forget, but just the presence of liquor makes a bunch of memories crawl up my skin. Memories that make me hate myself more than anybody else in them.
He's mumbling something under his breath before slumping down onto the floor. He can't seem to keep his back straight or legs still. He's a pile of jello lying on the hotel room floor. I take a few deep breaths. It's going to be okay, I tell myself. You know how to deal with these situations. Carefully, I approach Carter and sit down on the floor beside him. I've never seen him drunk before. I don't know if he becomes angry, hyper, or completely drained. Right now, he looks like he can barely move, but his mouth certainly is.
"Jonieee," he sings. "Get it? Sadie and Jones? Jonie!"
I swallow the lump in my throat. Funny or talkative drunk? "Yeah, that's, um, clever."
"Awe, did Jonie just call me clever?" He sounds so... flattered.
"I guess," I mumble.
Carter leans over so his head is resting on my shoulder, the rest of his body pushed up against my side. He's still wearing his suit just like I'm still wearing my dress. I guess both of us haven't had time to change.
"What happened with Felix?" I ask. My voice sounds like I'm talking to a toddler. I'm not used to seeing Carter so uncollected. He's always so put together. Prim and proper. His current state is throwing me off.
He shakes his head furiously. "I can't tell you. I'd be breaking bro code."
"I don't care. I just need to make sure he's okay," I sigh. I don't think I can wait until tomorrow to ask Felix myself.
"Fine, fine, fine, but only because you asked so nicely," Carter slurs, his head lolling off my shoulder. "His boyfriend cheated on him. Poor Felix is a very sad boy."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I say, even though I should be apologizing to Felix. "He's a dick for doing that."
"I know. What a fucking prick."
"Is that why you're drunk?" I ask, tentatively. I lean my head back against the drawer behind me, and I let the cool wood soothe my forming headache.
He snaps his head up. "I'm not drunk," he protests, trying to lean back against the drawer, as well, and banging his head in the process. "Maybe a little."
"A little more than a little," I say, and a light chuckle escapes from my lips. See, you're fine.
Suddenly he turns toward me, our noses almost touching. Carter can't seem to keep his head up, so he leans the side of it against the drawer. I do the same. I used to think that he only had a few freckles, but now I can see that there's a light dusting of them across the tops of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His green eyes are unfocused, but brighter than I've ever seen them. Strands of hair falls across his forehead and I resist the urge to brush them away. He's just staring at me, and I wonder, if he wasn't so drunk, would be be analyzing my face the same way I'm analyzing his?
It's almost as if he hears my question. "You're so pretty," he whispers, so low I almost don't hear it. "Why are you so pretty?"
"Thank you," I mumble. I don't know what to say. He's drunk, I remind myself. He doesn't know what he's saying.
"And sexy," he groans. "The second I saw you in that dress, all I wanted to do was rip it off."
He doesn't know what he's saying. He doesn't know. He's not thinking clearly.
"No you didn't," I whisper and move away slightly.
"I did!" He says. "I couldn't wait to hold you. But fucking Brad got to first." He grumbles the last part.
"You should get some rest," I say, pulling Carter to stand up with me.
He ignores me. "Jonie, don't tell me what to do."
"We have a competition tomorrow. You need to go to sleep and try to avoid a hangover."
"You're such a killjoy," he whines.
I don't know what to do. I push Carter towards the bed, but he just runs away from me. I don't think it's possible to coerce him into changing out of his suit. When he finally stops moving, I'm able to shove him underneath the covers. I go into the bathroom and strip off my dress and wipe off my makeup, pulling on Carter's shirt that, while I won't admit it, is the comfiest thing I've ever worn. When I step out of the bathroom, I find Carter lying on his side, with only the bedside table lamp illuminating his features. I lift up the covers and climb underneath them, ending up a little closer to Carter than I anticipated. He's staring at me with a puzzled look on his face before his eyes darken.
"Kiss me," he breathes, inching his face closer to mine,
My steady breathing seizes. I'm just staring at him, willing him not to move any closer. I can't help that my gaze travels to his lips. "You're drunk," I say.
"Just one. To get it out of my system. I'm going crazy here."
"You're drunk," I repeat. My breathing hasn't returned.
His voice is a whisper, "Would you if I wasn't?"
Yes.
"No."
"I don't believe you," he says. I don't know what to say to that.
His next words catch me even more off guard. "Felix thinks I love you. That's not true. He just said it because he's drunk."
And then it clicks. God, why am I so stupid? Obviously, Carter isn't drinking alone because Felix got cheated on. They were drinking together. I feel my blood run cold. "So, you left Felix drunk? Alone?"
"I didn't want you to worry about where I was," he mumbles, the words stringing together.
"Conners, how are you so fucking stupid?" I groan. "You left him alone in his room when he's fucking drunk and probably a lightweight!"
He snickers, "He's such a fucking lightweight."
"Don't move," I order and throw the covers off my legs. I slip on my shoes and charge through the door. Waiting for the elevator feels like forever. Please be okay. Please be okay.
One summer, mom had left to spend the night at grandma's and dad was out at a bar across town. Maddie was supposed to be sleeping over at a friend's and so was I. I didn't have many friends in my hometown, but occasionally the girl's from my old volleyball team would have sleepovers at this girl, Chelsea's, house because it was fucking massive. In the middle of the night, I started to feel sick and Chelsea's mom drove me home. When I stumbled into the apartment, I found Maddie passed out on the floor. Her head was bleeding and there were bruises covering the sides of her thighs and her knees. I was so scared. I screamed for help, but there was nobody to listen. I picked up her limp body off the floor and dragged her over to the couch. My eyes were blurred and burning from tears. I now felt sick for an entirely different reason. The ambulance arrived and we rode off to the hospital. They told me that she had a concussion, but no permanent damage was done. It was only days later that Maddie began to remember what happened that night. She told me, through tears, how she was too drunk to go for a sleepover and ended up staying home alone, where she had climbed onto the counter to reach for a bottle opener and fell. I didn't want to think about how long she was lying on the tiled floor: broken, bleeding, and alone.
When I reach Felix's room, I frantically pound on the door, screaming for him to open up. After a minute or two, I hear the twist of a lock. He swings the door open, looking tired and sad. His eyes are red and puffy. I pull him into a hug and feel him squeezing me back with just as much force.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
He nods.
"You're sleeping in our room tonight," I say. I don't give him any time to object before I'm pulling him through the door.
He stumbles on the way back to Carter and I's room. When I push him through the door, he falls onto my spot on the bed, not bothering to snuggle under the covers before he's fast asleep. I don't even care. I pull a couple of pillows from between their two sleeping bodies and place them on the armchair in the corner of them room. I curl into a ball trying to get warm with the lack of blanket. It doesn't matter. I don't sleep all night.
...
A/N
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