Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Answer! Come onnn," Barbs says, egging me on. She's adding more glitter gloss to her pouted lips.
Don't do it. Oh fuck off, drunk Emmy. I swipe to answer.
"Emmeline Lou's phone." I can't keep from laughing at myself.
"Emmy? Em, is that you?" Brooks's voice sounds so far away in my little black box of noise. Which is weird cause he's still so close in my heart.
Drunk Emmy talking.
"Yes, it's, I am Em. Am Em. HA-HA," I giggle again. Zoë is going to pay for these Vampire shots. I roll my eyes and focus on my phone.
"Emmy. Why did you call?" He sounds angry. Grumpy. Annoyed. MF.
"Accidents," I say. "Didn't mean to. OK BYES!"
"DON'T hang up. Are you out?"
The door slams open and three separate superhero ladies walk through the door. Good. Maybe they're here to save me.
"We're on a call!" Barbie raises her eyebrows at them. "GET OUT!"
Barbie slams the door shut again. We are monopolizing the bathroom.
"Emmy where are you? You're DRUNK!" Brooks is screaming into the phone now.
"I know I'm am, but whats are you?" I wink at Barbie. "HEY! Brooks. Did you like my pic?"
"You better go home, Emmy." Brooks says. He ignored my question.
"You not the boss uh me," I pout. "You go home!"
"I'm fuckin' serious Em." Brooks curses loudly on his end.
I can almost picture his nostrils getting all flarey and his eyes getting all dark and stormy like that night we spent in the thunder. This is just like that night –the night he tried to slut-shame me.
"I'm seriousss, Brooks!" I giggle. Am I trying to eat my phone? Jesus.
"What the fuck Em. Why do you have to do this?"
"Whys do you haves to do dis?" I repeat, mocking his voice. He curses more on the other end. "UGH I HATE YOU!"
More thumbs up from Barbs.
"EM!" Brooks shouts into the phone. "Em, I SWEAR!"
"What? Huh? What d'you swears? Oh, that's right. NOTHING! HA-HA!" I laugh into the phone. Basically making out with my phone.
My phone is starting to feel like Jell-O in my hand. My legs feel like something even less stable. It's all hitting me. Brooks asking if I'm drunk, telling me I better not be out dressed like –uh a CAT, Brooks not caring about my photo, not calling me. It's all a taunt. And I fell for it.
I called HIM!
"Broooooks! Come on, baby. Let's go." I hear it on his end of the line.
A thousand miles away, across the motherfuckin' United States some girl is on Brooks's phone with him. At the very least she's close enough to him that I can hear her trashy voice.
"EM!" He's shouting again. Panic. Maybe vomit.
"I have new friendsss I am I'm to make. Goodsbye Brooks," I say, clicking the phone off. OK, well not clicking because this isn't 1996, but you get it.
I broke our cardinal rule of the telephone-verse. I said goodbye. Conversation terminated. Who knows if we'll ever talk again?
I turn my phone off completely. Shut down. I stick it back where it belongs, where it can't hurt me, where trashy girls and their trashy voices can't get to me. Down my shirt.
Why am I surprised at Brooks? None of this should surprise me anymore.
Barbs and I fly back onto the makeshift dance floor. Zoë throws her arms around both of us. How she's still standing I cannot fathom. Then again, me either.
"Oh my god, you guys took forevvvvvvvur," she laughs. Her tenth Zombie spills over her cup onto the floor. Bryan takes it from her and trades her for his water.
These fucking cute men with their being all responsible and taking care of us. What's it about?
"Someone had to make a call," Barbie says, looking at me.
"Noooo!" Zoë shakes her head. "No. The hottie?"
"Yes, hottie. Not anymore!" I say, shaking my head too. Somehow she's handing me another shot and for some reason I'm taking it.
I got another for the mixtape, holiday edition. Drunk on Halloween by Wallows. I know, almost too fitting. Too real. Too right now. But this is where we are.
Fuck Brooks.
Fuck him for trying to control me. Then for doing whatever –whoever he wants! Fuck him for playing the game better than me. Fuck us both for playing the game in the first place. Which one of us will care first? Which one of us will cave first?
Which one of us will lose first?
Then I see him sitting at the bar. Trevor. AKA naked man from the night before my first trip back home. I'm almost not sure it's him because I hardly remember him if I'm being honest. Plus I'm like way drunk. But when the guy he is sitting with shifts to the left and Trevor sees me he smiles. Yes, it's him.
Wow, he remembers me? I mean, of course he remembers me, but him of all people? Now?
"Hi," he says walking up to me.
"Hey," I smile. I turn to look for Zoë but she's disappeared into the crowd somewhere.
"Long time no see, babe." He gives me a half smile, almost crooked the way his left side turns up more than the right.
Babe.
I'm flashing back to him in my bed, to his cute dimples and cute butt. The way he called me babe without even knowing my name. Fuck, that's really appealing right now.
I don't know why it's appealing.
Just kidding, I do. It's because my call with Brooks is still playing like a sound system is blasting through my head. His voice. His fucking chastising me for what I'm wearing and asking if I'm at a party. His telling me to go home.
"A cat, right?" Trevor's question brings me back to the bar, to the strobe lights, and the mixture of cheap perfume and hard liquor.
"What?" I can't hear him.
"I said you're a cat, right?" Trevor says, looking down at my costume. Well, at my ears and nose at least.
"Yesss! And you're a...?" I ask. He's just wearing black pants and an oversized black blouse top thing.
"I was..." He pulls a pair of fake teeth out of his pocket. "A vampire."
"Was?" I ask, leaning into him.
What are you doing, Em?
"Had a little too much to drink," Trevor smirks. "Had to take a breather."
"Oh yea? What's your blood blood concentration?"
"Over the legal limit," he shrugs, holding his teeth up. "Ya know, I could put these back in if you're into it."
"Me-Ow." I hate myself.
Swear I do.
"So who are you here with Emmy?" Trevor asks, eyes flashing under the strobes. He looks mysterious this way. Maybe that'll make this easier.
"No one anymore," I say, shrugging.
"Oh yea? Lucky me," Trevor says, leaning down to me.
EM. OMG.
I can't help but love every ounce of how wrong this is. How bad this is. How trash I am.
But I don't owe anything to Brooks. Or the slut he's banging right now.
Then before I know what is even going on I am walking back with Trevor. Well, not back. I've never been to his place before.
But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.
I can hear Brooks's voice ringing in my phone. I don't care. He called you! I don't care. He's with someone else. I don't care. So are you!
Yes, so am I. I steal a peek at Trevor. He's not much of a vampire, really. In fact, he's second to the syringe shot. But damn he looks just as delicious.
And one more shot won't kill me tonight.
Moon is back, just as judgy as before. But I force it from my mind. I force Brooks from my mind. I press myself into Trevor the second he opens his apartment door. I unzip my boots and ditch the entire costume until all that's left is my black lace bra and thong.
Trevor pulls me over to the bed and sits me on the edge. He kneels in front of my and pulls off my panties. He stands up right between my legs. He unclips my bra and I undo his black jeans. I crawl backward up the bed and he hovers over me. I smell lemons and something else citrusy.
He has a hand on either side of me and uses his knee to separate my legs. I'm surprised by how badly I want this –want him. Maybe it's for revenge. But that doesn't mean anything now. I arch my back when he moves into me.
Instantly it's different. And instantly I'm so fucking happy that Brooks is no longer the last guy to have fucked me.
He's the same cheating, untrustworthy, shithead that he was nine years ago. A few months of summer fun does not suddenly make him a better man. And even if he were, it doesn't mean I'm a better woman.