Alcohol really isn't beneficial in any way, I don't know why I keep drinking it if this is the way I feel every time I do. It's all fun and games in the moment, confidence fills you up and laughter comes way too easily. Sometimes tears do as well, but that's a whole different story.
Right now the only thing I was feeling was a slight panic, unsure of what I could've done last night, or what I could've lost. This happens to me every time I wake up hungover, I have a tiny moment where I panic, wondering if I did something embarrassing or terrible the night before.
I felt dizzy and weak, as if my knees would crumble under the weight of my body if I ever stood up from my bed. Despite it all, I made a 90 degrees turn in my covers in order for the tip of my toes to slightly touch my cold wooden floor. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, both hands on each side of my body, resting on the matress.
I rubbed my eyes and finally stood up before heading downstairs.
Before I could get to the bottom of the staircase, I noticed a white piece of paper lying on the floor in front of me, which I picked up to read what was written on it.
Out for the day, food's in the fridge.
Love, dad.
Great.
I opened the fridge with one hand, the other hand holding my phone. I scanned the content of the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice and an apple, closed the fridge and put two pieces of toast in the toaster while turning on the TV from afar with the TV remote.
I leaned on the counter, resting my elbows on it while taking a bite in my apple, scanning through the chanels to find something to watch.
My toasts popped out of the toaster, and I decided to call Scar as I placed them in a plate, making my way to the couch.
"Hello?"
I grinned as soon as I heard her tiny voice through my phone, "Hi, Scar,"
"How you feelin' this morning?"
"Like shit," I replied, chuckling,
"Yeah me too," she paused, "Hey um, you know the hot kid, Nick Robinson, right?"
My heart skipped a beat as I heard his name.
Oh shit.
I forgot about that.
"Yeah?"
"Well, last night I got with him,"
Oh dear.
"Wait-" I replied, mortified, "Are you saying you- you slept with him or something?"
"Gee, no! We made out a couple of times, he drove me to my house but couldn't spend the night," she replied, giggling.
I pressed my lips together and grimaced at the thought of him getting with me AND my best friend in a timespan of like an hour.
"Okay, but when was that?" I asked, slightly laughing nervously.
"Last night, way before you left. You were crying, if I remember correctly, but I had to go, so he offered me a ride and went to sleep after that. I think it was around 12:30,"
Oh. He did not go to sleep, let me tell you that.
"I don't know, Lara, it might sound weird, but I think I'm starting to like this guy,"
"Scar, get a grip, you can't like a guy you've literally just met," I replied, anxious, "I mean, do you even know him?"
"I know, I know. It's just that he knew exactly what to say, you know? He was..." she trailed off probably daydreaming, making me roll my eyes, "Charming," she continued, slightly giggling.
I sighed, not knowing what on Earth I was supposed to do.
"You know what they say about boys who are pretty good with words," I remarked, trying to get her away from him. I didn't do it for my own benefit, but because I didn't want her getting hurt, "If he's that good, it's probably because he's said those words plenty of times before to plenty of other girls, you never know!"
"I know, but he isn't like that,"
"Oh shut up, you've just met the guy. How could you even know that?"
"I don't, I just have this feeling,"
"Oh dear..." I trailed off, taking one last bite out of my apple before throwing it in the trashcan, "you know this doesn't make any sense, right?"
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know whether I should tell her or not and burst her bubble at this very moment or let her find out by herself that he really isn't what she thinks he is.
I mean, he's a fuckboy. Or he looks like one.
I don't know why I did it, but I said bye and hung up, without telling her about his probably bad intentions.
I understood her. He was hot. The kind of hot that is dangerous, addictive. His stare feels hypnotizing, as if capable of making you do anything he wishes, as if capable of being your source of weakness. He would never leave your mind that easily, he would stay there for a while until you slowly go crazy, not being able to erase him from your thoughts.
I have tasted his lips and the poison that comes along.
So did Scar.
That's the thing with fuckboys, they like being chased, they like the game. They give you what you want and leave you disappointed, wanting more. They get amused by desperation and seek naiveness.
Now the thing with Nick is that if he were a true fuckboy, the real kind like we see in cliché love stories, he would've gotten with girls who don't know each other.
Not two best friends.
That's like comon sense.
I think that is a part of why I didn't tell Scar. Maybe I'm paranoid and picturing guys with bad intentions everywhere. On the other hand, Scar is way too intense, way too fast to catch feelings.
Whether or not I was right, I was going to find out as time went by.
A couple of days passed, I saw Nick at school, or at least saw his insanely attractive face sitting beside me in spanish, occasionally in biology as well. I didn't really speak to him, mainly because Scar was practically all over him the entire time, and partly because what we did didn't mean anything to neither of us.
In Scar's mind, they were probably already married and were on their honey moon.
She's like a little girl who's crushing over her favorite boyband.
As innocent and cute as it was, I didn't want her getting hurt, and I felt it coming at 200 miles an hour.
As for Nick, he kept his distance from both of us, although slightly curving the edges of his mouth whenever Scar would wrap her fingers around his arm, occasionally responding to her.
And me, well, whenever our eyes locked in spanish, he would continue to stare, slightly smirking, leaning on his desk with his elbows.
That's pretty much all we did, I tried avoiding him, but I failed a couple of times.
In biology, the only class I had without Max or Scar, where I was utterly and completely alone, except to Nick, obviously, sitting right behind me.
We were watching a movie on mitosis and meiosis, we were in the basement of our school building, so there weren't any windows, resulting in complete darkness with a dim of light coming from the video. My attention was focused on the projected screen and on the voice speaking in a monotonous tone.
That was before I felt a kick at the back of my chair, a pretty strong one. I would've ignored it, but considering I knew who was behind me and it felt too harsh to be coming from someone who would've kicked my chair by accident, I didn't.
I turned around and saw Nick, leaning forward with that same smirk plastered on his face. That same smirk who made my knees go weak at Noah's party.
His features were slightly lit up due to the screen and Gosh was he attractive.
He must've noticed me staring because he looked down one second, chuckling and looked up once again to meet my gaze.
"Do you want to ditch next period with me? I have to talk to you," he whispered, still smirking.
It was literally impossible to say no, with him looking at me that way, I was hypnotized, there was no way I could ever deny him.
But I had to.
"I-I..." I trailed off, biting my lower lip in confusion as to what to do.
"I won't try anything," he said, leaning back on his chair, gazing at the screen, "Not unless you want me to," he added, turning his gaze to me, giving me that same sensation in my entire being.
"Come on, it's a once in a life time offer,"
"No, I can't,"
That's what I said, but deep down I knew I was going to be contradictory.
And there I was, walking rapidly along the sides of none other than Nick Robinson, heading towards the glass doors of our school, looking around to make sure we were free to go.
What have I gotten myself into this time?