"I told you," I tell Nick on the phone for the thousandth time, "I'm busy tonight."
"Sitting on the couch watching The Bachelor while your roommate cries isn't considered plans," Nick says promptly.
"Gemma needs me," I argue.
"Oh, bullshit." I can imagine him rolling his eyes. "Gemma doesn't need anybody."
"Nick, she's going through a break up with..." I try my best not to say 'coffee shop girl'. "She's going through a tough time.
"You can't even think of the girl's name," Nick interjects.
It's not that I wasn't paying attention; Gemma and I just like to live our lives together but independent. I'm not demanding a list of what's going on in hers and she's not expecting one from me. We talk about whatever comes up whenever it comes up.
"Nick." I sigh. "I really don't want to."
"Why?"
"Someone who lives in your house doesn't like me," I remind him, "It makes the whole situation a bit awkward."
"He'll get over it."
I let out a little laugh. "I don't know if it works like that."
"Give me a second," Nick mutters before there's some shuffling around on the other side of the phone.
It takes a couple minutes before I can hear him knock and open a door at the same time. I can hear someone mutter something unintelligible before he hangs up on me completely.
My jaw drops, wondering why in the world he would do that. I don't take it personally, not until he tells me what's going on.
Gemma walks into the living room. She's wearing her favorite top for going out as she searches for something in the couch.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"Out to the bars," she says absent-mindedly while picking up a pillow.
I refrain myself from asking why. Instead I ask what she's looking for.
"My lip gloss. I thought I had it out here." She sighs, turning to our little basket sitting by the door.
"You had your lip gloss on the couch?" I ask, "What were you doing?"
Her lips turn into a small smile before she opens her mouth.
"Don't answer that." I change my mind. "Does this mean you're not staying in?"
"That's the point of going out." She rolls her eyes.
I nod once, knowing she wasn't going to invite me. Drinking in public places really just isn't my thing.
My phone rings right as she picks up a pink tube with a smile. She glances to me. "I'll let you take that."
I laugh a little before picking up the phone, surprised that it's now Clay calling me.
"We have a plan," Nick says when I answer.
I double check who called me. "Where's Clay?" I ask.
"Right here," he says. I must be on speaker phone.
It's not that Clay and I aren't on good terms, but we did just have our first actual argument last week. I've talked on the phone with him a couple times, all times I felt slightly on the edge.
"We have a plan," Nick repeats. "We're going to slowly ease you guys into besties."
I laugh at his word choice. "I don't know if George and I will ever be besties."
"Well, Nick and I love you both, so you'll be besties," Clay says very assured of himself.
I roll my eyes. "What's the plan then?"
"Nick is going to take George somewhere," Clay explains, "and you and I are going to hang out. Then, I'll talk about it to George."
"Like introducing it," Nick chimes in, "Then, we'll slowly put you guys in the same areas to start liking each other."
"Yeah, um." I laugh a little. "No."
"No? What do you mean no?" Clay's voice carries an attitude.
"Yeah, we aren't taking no for an answer," Nick agrees, "This is step one of twenty-seven, so y/n please get a handle on yourself."
"Did you just say twenty-seven?" I ask.
"Enough with the questions. Be over in an hour, got it?" Clay interrupts me.
_ _ _
I stand cautiously in front of the guy's door; the worn paint makes me grimace. I glance back at the driveway, noticing that both of the guy's cars are still in the driveway. Something about that doesn't settle in my stomach as something clicks in my brain.
This is a set up.
The door opens before I can even think about turning around to my car. Clay smiles wide.
"Hey," he says casually like I'm not a walking secret from George; as if Nick isn't somewhere hiding a grown ass man from view.
I take a step back. "You're a sneaky asshole."
His eyes widen, realizing their plan wasn't as fool-proof as he had planned. He takes a step outside and places his hand on my forearm, ensuring I stay there in his sight. I glance down at the touch, which has sent a chill down my spine. I'm not sure Clay and I have ever deliberately touched. Never hugged, nothing like that. But right now he has placed a single hand on my arm to hold me in place next to him.
I'm not sure how I feel about it.
"Stay," he says softly as if I'm a jumpy, wounded animal, "please."
I take a deep breath and attempt to glance inside the house for Nick.
Clay chuckles; his grip on my arm loosens. "There's no booby traps."
I glance up to meet his eyes. They're sparkling with humor, no doubt from the fact that he just used the word booby.
"I hate you, just so you know," I say sternly.
He smiles. "No you don't." It's true, I don't, but right now I'm pretty frustrated with the situation he's putting me in.
I follow him into the house. I watch as the door clicks into place, sealing my fate. He turns, noticing I'm staring at the lock.
"They're in the kitchen," he says. He turns me in the general direction. His hands on my shoulders burn my skin through my shirt. He places his hand on my lower back as he leads me. All the sudden I am less worried about hanging out with George and more worried about actually making it to the kitchen. I shimmy a bit so he'll move his hand. He takes the hint and moves his hand.
George and Nick seem to be in a bit of an argument when we walk in. George is partially facing us, but Nick is turned away. George's brows are furrowed as he listens to Nick, and Nick is using big hand motions, forever dramatic. George starts to quip back before Clay clears his throat.
Nick whips his head around. "y/n! Welcome!"
I give him a tight smile. "Hey."
"George and I were just discussing the... climate change." Nick scratches the back of his head.
Clay nods once. "Very interesting and engaging topic."
I roll my eyes. "Nick, for someone who has lied to me from the second we met, you are awful at it."
His faces beats red for a moment before a smile spreads across his face. He turns to open the fridge and pulls out a six pack. He holds it up for all to see. "I think this night is going to call for some alcohol."
George nods once dramatically. "Bring it to the living room."
Nick nods once and follows him. He pauses for a second to wiggle his brows towards Clay and I. "He's so demanding."
I smile at that and nudge him a bit. "You're disgusting."
He shrugs before leaving the kitchen. I'm about to follow them when Clay places his hand on my shoulder. Again with the distinguished touch.
"Are you going to be okay?" he asks quietly, not wanting the other guys to hear. "You know, with the drinking with people?"
I take a deep breath. Ever since Maggie.. Died. I've tried very hard to avoid drinking in groups that could lead to doing something dangerous. Or really anything alcohol-related that could lead to another accident.
I meet his eyes, and I can't help smile a bit, realizing that I do feel safe here with Clay. This is what I nod. "Yeah, I'm going to be okay."
We follow them to the living room. George and Nick sit on the couch, each with a bottle in their hand. Nick leans forward and opens two bottles for Clay and I.
I take it from his hand and start with a small sip. I was never a fan of the taste of beer, so I don't really find the bubbles tingling on my tongue quite as satisfying as some would.
I sit next to Clay who's trying not to make it obvious that his eyes are flitting between George and I as the group sits in an awkward silence, each of us cradling our bottles.
We sit until most of us have almost finished our first beer, a little faster than most due to the uncomfortable silence.
Finally, George is the one to break the silence. He chugs the rest of his beer before letting out a long sigh. He stands up abruptly before announcing to the group, "If this night is going to continue being this awkward, I'm going to need something stronger." And then he left the room to go back upstairs.
Apparently, George had vodka stored in his room. After Clay and Nick pestered him about when he had this very special vodka that apparently can only be imported from England, and then another conversation and google seach about if imported was the right word, then George poured us all some shots.
Clay gave me a look, and I smiled to assure him I'm okay. I'm okay with drinking with a small group of friends, or in this case some friends and GeorgeNotFound.
And I am okay. Better than okay actually because that was four shots ago.
The fifth shot burns my throat, and I notice Clay keeping pace with me as he also takes his fifth. Nick and George have each had seven.
It's a safe bet that we are all quite tipsy.
Except George. He's very drunk. Almost plastered. I don't necessarily like him, but this forced family-fun-time has allowed me to learn he is a lightweight drinker.
George stands up on the couch and starts looking around the room. Nick's brows furrow immediately. "What are you doing up there?"
"It's a better view," George announces before shielding his eyes with his hand as he searches the surrounding area. He turns all the way around, and I think I could've seen an actual light bulb over his head.
He gets off the couch and stumbles over to the front door, opening it quickly. He gives a pointed look specifically at Clay. "You know what's not a better view? This door."
I exclaim out of excitement and agreement. And being drunk. But mostly agreement.
I walk over to George and hover my hand over the god-awful paint job. I turn to the boys still sitting on the couch. "This is repulsing."
"Appalling." George nods.
"Depressing."
"Horrific."
"Monstrous."
"Horrendous."
"Atrociously dreadful."
George looks at me and actually smiles. It's a wide smile that he usually wouldn't give me. "That was a good one."
"Why thank you," I say as I slap my hand on my heart and partially bow. "I really dug deep inside of all my hate."
"It was.. was a very.. nice touch." He nods his head up and down.
"Really? Because I liked the horrendous one," I add, "I think going outside of what their vocabular-ity was probably... really proves a point."
He smiles. "Thank you, I agree... tremendously."
Both our heads turn to see Clay and Nick pumping their hands in the air victoriously.
"Can we help you?" George asks, squinting towards them.
Nick stands from his spot on the couch and makes his way over to us, followed by Clay. Nick throws his arms over George and I's shoulders. "We're just so excited you guys are finally besties."
George's face twists before breaking out into a grin. "They're okay."
Nick dramatically sweeps his face over to me. I shrug. "He's alright."
Nick squeezes us a bit tighter. "Good enough for me!"
Clay gasps loudly. Nick, George and I all scuttle to face him as he darts to the door.
"We can't have this door open," he exclaims. "It's dangerous."
"Dangerous," Nick echos.
"Because you're faceless?" I start whispering halfway through my sentence.
"Yes!" Clay whisper-shouts, "It's dangerous if fans spot me." He bobs and weaves the air as if showing off his skills.
"Ohhhhh," Nick says as if this is the most amazing fact he's ever seen.
"Shhh." George puts his finger up to his lips.
Clay joins in. "Shhh."
Nick furrows his brows and looks directly at me. "Yeah, y/n shhh"
My jaw drops all the way to the floor. "Well, you shush your shhhh."
Now we're all going in a circle of shushing until we slowly come to a stop and stand in a huddle for a bit.
George is the first to pull away. "I want pasta."
"Pasta?" Nick's ears perk up.
The boys break from the group, and I have to set a hand on the wall next to me. The haze around me causes the floor to sweep back and forth a bit.
George starts off in the direction of the kitchen before dramatically turning to add one more thing. "Please, Dream, tell me that you're going to paint that door."
Clay shakes his head. "Not today but maybe in..." He pulls up his two hands and starts counting something. "Twenty-seven days."
George smashes his thumb in our direction. "Sounds fantastic, mate."
"Mate?" Nick echos the word in the form of a question. "I don't feel good, mate."
George puts his hand up as if to say stop. "Do not throw up on me." He smiles mischievously. "Throw up on Dream."
"Gotcha." Nick bobs his head up and down before they both go to the kitchen.
I glance up at Clay as he watches the guys retreat out of the room. He glances down at me after and smiles. His smile makes me smile.
"What?" he says; his voice is quieter now.
"I like your smile," I say. I lean my back on the wall behind me.
"Thank you." He beams. "I'm actually known for it, you know?"
I laugh abruptly. "You're funny with your... your... your sarcasm! That's the word. Sarcasm."
He leans over just a bit and laughs. "I think you're drunk."
"Me?" I join his laughter. "Not as much as you."
"Not as much as George."
I let out another abrupt giggle. "George is the drunk-er-est."
Clay bobs his head in agreeance. "Exactly. Couldn't have said it better yourself."
I furrow my brows, unsure how to wrap my brain around what he was trying to say. "Huh?"
He furrows his own brows. "Huh?"
Nick bursts out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the bathroom. George follows but saunters past us to the couch.
Clay flings a finger towards the bathroom's general direction. "What's wrong with Sappy Nappy?"
George turns and look at us. His eyes droop with tiredness. In all seriousness, he tells us, "He's going to hurl."
My body takes off in that direction. I drag my body across the wall to keep my balance. My brain and body feels a little heavy to hold up on my own.
I spot Nick hovering over the toilet and throw my arms around. "I'll hold your hair!"
He looks up, resting his heavy head on his arm. "I don't have hair," he says.
My eyes widen. "You're bald?"
He nods, but the motion is too much that he turns back to the bowl. He waves an arm, and I take it that he wishes to be alone.
I walk out of the bathroom just as Clay is walking back from the living room. He throws his thumb behind him. "George is asleep."
"Nick is throwing up."
He shrugs. "Guess we're the only good sober people here."
I laugh as I stumble towards the kitchen. "You're drunk."
"So are you."
He follows me to the counter where an empty box of pasta is. I pick up the box and find two single pieces of pasta on the counter. Clay stands behind me. I feel like I'm in a cloud of his scent. A subtle cologne mixed with alcohol. The smell puts me in a slight haze.
I take a step back and run into him. He puts his hands on my shoulders to stabilize me. Neither of us move. We just sit in a half hug for a moment.
Clay's the one to move. He reaches forward and grabs a third piece of pasta.
I laugh. "The stove's over there. Why are all the pastas over here?"
He chuckles. "This is the oven."
I turn to face him now. "This is a toaster, dumbo."
"Really?" He looks again. "Right, the oven is the big one."
I lean forward. "Imagine they-" I stop talking as I see the pasta thrown into the toaster.
Clay bursts into laughter. "They tried to toast pasta!"
"As in.. like toast." I laugh even harder.
"That's just so... dummy."
I nod in agreement. "Dummy."
He picks up a single piece of pasta and cracks it in half. I smile and pick one up to do the same. We keep doing it for a while. They break with a satisfying crack, and we laugh every time.
I sit up on the counter to reach the ones that fell behind the toaster. Clay stands in front of me as I reach. Eventually, Clay just watches as I crack the pasta. He settles his hands on either side of me on the counter.
I turn to grab another piece of pasta. I slip just a bit, and Clay's hand flies to my waist to support me. I smile at the little action. It's not awkward like I remember the one from earlier. This makes me feel safe.
"I feel safe," I tell softly to him.
He smiles. "I feel safe too."
"And I'm drunk," I add, "I never feel safe when I'm drunk. Not since Maggie."
"I'm drunk too." He keeps his hand on my waist. "We're drunk together."
"Together," I repeat.
I pick up the pasta and crack it again. I continue these actions over and over throughout the night while Nick throws up and George sleeps. It's a peaceful drunk just between the two of us.
And I like it.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
superrrr long chapter ahaha
hope you enjoyed! have an amazing day <33