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Mike nods vigorously. “Of course.”
I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose while tilting my head back. All I want to do is go home and stretch, prepare my body for another day of training. I guess tonight is just not my night.
“Fine,” I mutter.
A smile tugs at my lips as I watch Mike thrust his hands into the air and spin around, hollering his glee. I chuckle and shake my head while continuing to dress. It feels good to be wanted, to know I haven’t been completely replaced by Alex.
After quickly showering and dressing, I follow Mike back to his house. Alex tags along, lingering behind us. I glance over my shoulder, my heart faltering as I see his gaze meeting mine. He looks concerned, something I can’t quite understand. Is he irritated about the party? Or irritated that I’m going? Didn’t he say he wasn’t interested? I narrow my eyes at him, giving him a quick glare before refocusing my attentions forward.
Why doesn’t he just go home? He doesn’t have to go to Mike’s party. Although, the same could be said about me. All my thoughts dissipate as I walk up toward the house, already finding several people lingering outside the door, smoking cigarettes while sipping on beer.
“Hey,” they grunt, giving us a curt nod as we enter the house.
A wave of heat suffocates me and music blasting deafens my ears as I enter. People crowd the hallway. Girls lean against the walls, talking amongst themselves while guys play flip cup. As we enter the kitchen, I see a small group doing a keg stand. The guy’s arms shake as he tries to hold himself up.
Isn’t it a bit early for a keg stand?
“Hey Mike!” The two men holding the legs shout, their eyes already drooping and glossy from drink.
“Hey!” Mike shouts, sidling close to them. He grabs three red cups from the counter and hands one to me.
I take it tentatively. Coach’s words surface in my head. Treat your body like a temple. Binging on beer will definitely mess up my training tomorrow. I can’t afford to get wasted. Now is not the time for fun and games. I need to train. I shouldn’t be here.
I look for any way out. The guy with his mouth attached to the nozzle of the keg chokes and beer spurts out. His friends help him up. My heart thuds in my throat. I need to find a way out of this. Beer will only put weight on, which will slow me down, which will make me lose. My gaze lands on a bottle of Kamchakka, the cheapest vodka I’ve ever had. The thought of having it slide down my throat, burning my insides, makes my stomach churn, but it’s better than beer. It will get everyone drunker faster, and then they’ll leave me alone.
I grab it and plaster a large smile onto my face. “Shots!” I shout, forcing a laugh. Even to my ears it sounds real.
Mike holds up his cup. “Shots!”
***
The whole world is terrible. It feels terrible. I can’t stop the spinning no matter how hard I try. Even in the darkness, everything is spinning, twirling. My eyes clamp closed. My stomach heaves, but nothing comes out, which makes it hurt all the more. My eyes slowly open. Everything is blurry, spinning. I clutch my stomach, but my skin feels so hot. I kick the blankets from me. I hear them plop onto the ground.
How did I even get home?
I remember pouring shots for everyone. I remember Mike calling for more. I think I had at least five before I ran into the living room and started a dance party. Then, Mike poured us more shots. And then what?
“Seth, it’s time for you to go home,” I recall someone saying, their voice familiar, masculine.
“You’re awake.”
I jerk, turning toward that voice, finding a slight dip in my bed. I’m not alone. There’s someone here, someone sleeping on the other side, making me even more sweaty and hot. I blink at the intruder, finding him fully clothed. He pushes himself up and his blonde brows tented with worry, a frown on his lips. His blue eyes look me over before he pushes his greasy red hair away from his forehead.
Alex.
Alex fucking Goode is in my fucking bed.
“What the fuck happened?” I want to shout, but end up whispering. Even that has me wincing with pain, and I groan as I press my head into the pillows.
“You wouldn’t go the fuck home, that’s what happened,” Alex says angrily, his body lifting from my bed and making my world tremble and swivel.
I think I’m going to puke. The bile is already rising up my throat and I look around for anything to grab. With each slight movement, my head twinges and my body shouts, demanding I lie back down, but I can’t. I know I may be gross, but I refuse to vomit in my own bed.
I’m not an animal.
“Are you alright?” Alex asks, his voice loud and making my head pound.
I shake my head.
