I wasn't drunk. No, I was sure of it. I might've discreetly taken some shots of tequila, but I wasn't drunk. But I was not fully in control of myself either.
I don't know what happened, or why I suddenly started crying. If it was because of Alex, or the tragic ending of Romeo and Juliet, or if the fact that I was dying was hitting me hard, or if it was just the alcohol.
I wasn't sure.
What happened next was a blur.
I remember mumbling something. I don't remember what it was. I remember asking him to take me home. I remember him putting an arm around my back to get a grip on my shoulder and another one around my waist so I wouldn't fall. I remember asking him what was wrong. I don't remember what I replied. I remember him opening the front door of the car, and helping me sit in the shotgun seat. I remember him buckling me up. I remember him taking off my stilettoes. I remember him starting the car.
And then, I don't know it was the alcohol or the motion that lulled me to sleep. When I woke up, I was in my own bed, stifled under three blankets, in Veronica's black dress. I wanted to sleep again, but I felt hot.
Thing was, that was all I felt.
I lifted my head, expecting a pounding headache, but nothing came. I felt perfectly fine. My body tended up to heat time to time, so it was nothing big now.
I didn't feel nauseous, pukish or lightheaded. I felt okay. I got up, and took a shower before making my way out of the room. My brother, who was sitting on the dinning table eating his breakfast, noticed my arrival and he got up. He made his way to me, and I gave a smile, hoping it would help my case. I hadn't exactly taken permission to go to the party.
He surprised me by pulling me in for an embrace. 'Tell me next time so I can cover up for you.'
'Okay,' I was surprised by his actions. Maybe it was because I was on terminal that he was lenient about it. Nonetheless, I hadn't expected that.
'Do you have a migraine or anything?'
'No,'
'Nausea? Do you feel puk-ish?'
'Nope,'
'Great. Tell me if you need anything.' I nodded in response and he went back to continue his breakfast.
I knew Dominic and Elliot were friends, so that was partly the reason why Elliot wasn't pissed or anything. And I was also aware that Elliot himself went to parties at my age. And he was protective, but he knew I could take care of myself. And I also had a strong Wiccan with me, so there's nothing to worry about.
But still, there was a nagging at the back of my mind.
I didn't want anyone to change how the behaved with me or acted around me because of my condition. And the fact that my brother's behaviour was changing just made it worse for me.