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“Yeah, we rarely talk anymore,” he said, his words sounding slurred and his eyes turning glassy.
She looked down at her half-full cup of beer. “I know. It’s crazy right?”
There was nothing crazy about it. It was all premeditated. All in his best interest.
“Whoa, I’m feeling really groggy. I must be a monumental lightweight,” he said, doing that thing where he ran his fingers through his hair.
Suddenly, Maisie showed up from behind Birdie, as she too was feeling a bit woozy. Must have been the combination of beer and wine coolers.
“Oh, hey, Lucas,” Maisie said, all full of concern. “You don’t look so great. Why don’t you lie down for a minute?”
She opened the door next to the naked goddess, which Birdie thought must have been Chuckie’s parents’ bedroom, as it was far more sophisticated than your typical teenager’s.
“That’s it,” Maisie said, holding both of his hands and pulling him toward the bed.
He stumbled, and she caught him, navigating him toward the bed until he plopped on top of it.
“Hey, Birdie,” Maisie said with an uncharacteristic amount of concern on her face, “Pete was asking for you before I came up here. You might want to check to see if he’s okay. I don’t think he’s feeling too well, either.”
Birdie nodded, the last dregs of her beer sloshing over the side of her cup.
“Sure, okay,” she said, but instead of going to the door, she stumbled to the bed and peered over a half-asleep Lucas.
“Hey, Santos,” she said, holding his hand. “You going to be okay?”
He sat up on one elbow as if it were a monumental physical feat. “Yeah, as long as you’re here.”
She began to sit next to him, but Maisie wasn’t having it. Pulling her back up by the arm, she said, “No, I’ll take care of Lucas, you need to check on Pete. Go on.” She shooed Birdie out of the room and shut the door behind her.
Pete was leaning against the opposite wall.
“Birdie?” he asked, standing straight and grabbing her by the biceps. “You don’t look so good.”
“No, I’m fine. I need…” She turned back toward the door from where she had just emerged, but had difficulty finding the knob.
“No, not in there,” Pete said, pulling her another direction. “Seriously, though. Are you okay?”
“But I need to…”
He crouched in front of her and she felt a warm sensation slide through her torso. “Birdie, are you on something?” Pete asked, and she felt it resonate all the way to her core and between her legs.
She reached out and pulled her body against him. “Lucas,” she said, kissing him along his neck.
Her body was on fire, as she heard someone say, “Swear to God, your sister is a fucking monster.”
She started to climb him, unable to get close enough.
“Birdie, stop it.” She heard a voice vaguely in the distance. “Fuck. You’ve been roofied.”
She felt him repeatedly removing her arms from around his neck and she wanted to sob. All she wanted was to feel Lucas’s naked skin against hers.
Why was he always rejecting her?
As she continued to outmaneuver his attempts to still her marauding hands, she heard him mutter, “Shit. I’m gonna need to be named a fucking saint after tonight.”
Wait, was that Lucas?
He grabbed both her hands and pulled them off of him as he navigated her into another room and locked the door behind them.
