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I don’t reply back. Not even when I finish brushing my teeth because, deep down, I know that she’s right. If we did something troublesome, we don’t have any backups to eventryto fix it.
Slowly, I walk out of the bathroom with a new worry blooming in my system. I don’t know where it comes from, but I can’t get rid of it. It’s justthere… present, hounding me with the doubt that I may have done something last night that I regret.
I go to the kitchen to take some pills for my headache and to hydrate. My dry mouth lets me know that I need the liquid to feel better.
There’s a bottle of vodka almost empty on the table of the living room.Shit, did we really drink that much? I know that we took a couple of shots, but not that we drank almost all of it.
I also notice that my laptop is next to the bottle, and the panic increases. The alarms in my head are blasting, screaming that I messed up. A memory jumps in, whipping me.
“You don't have to do that, mujer. Just create a fake account.”
Oh, God, this is bad.
The terror triggers in my system so quickly that I completely forget about the headache. I jump over the couch to reach the laptop. The adrenaline doesn’t let me trip or fall. I crush Karma as I move, kneeing her belly.
“Ay, puta.”
I probably break a couple of laws of physics, moving so fast that I can’t register what’s going on around me. Grabbing the laptop, I press the power button. The screen remains black as a sign of an uncharged battery pops before shutting down again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I repeat the only word that I can think of.
I run to my room, carrying the laptop with me.
The need to know that I didn’t mess up is bigger than anything else.
“What the fuck is up with Bree?!” Karma shouts.
“How should I know?” Cora replies from the hallway.
My room is a complete mess. The sheets are undone as if someone rolled over them a thousand times, and the pillows are on the floor. Shaking my head, I focus back on my initial task.
I stumble upon my phone in the middle of searching for the charger, and I put down the laptop on the bed. A moan escapes my lips when I see a huge crack crossing the screen of the phone, but that’s the last of my worries.
It still has fifteen percent of battery, which is more than enough to swim past the ton of notifications. I have messages in the group chat that my family has, a couple of them from my brother, and some from Ryder Weiss on Instagram.
I choose to check Ryder’s first because they’re the ones that confuse me the most.
My eyes almost pop out of their sockets when I notice that he sent me a photo thatIposted at 3 A.M. I’m the protagonist of the picture, holding a bottle of vodka in my right hand, putting it close to my mouth. I’m licking the tip of the bottle, and my eyes are closed, but the heat covering my cheeks demonstrates that I’m more than drunk. I’mwasted. The person who took the photo also was because it’s blurry, giving it some weird aesthetic feel.
His messages make me giggle.
ryderweisss:I’m offended that you rejected ME for a bottle of VODKA. You def need to check your priorities.
ryderweisss: kidding. I’m assuming that you posted this drunk and I’m going to be a decent person for once and let you know about it.
So the guy is charming, and he may have won a piece of my heart with his last message. Although his actions are confusing, I can’t help but admire his decency and concern. I leave the photo up because half of my followers already saw it.
The messages from my family are mostly from my mother asking me where I got the alcohol and if I have a fake ID. The ones from my brother are just him begging me not to tell mom that he was the one who bought them for me.
Me: I won’t tell a soul, but u owe me now.
James: fuck, whatever.
A mischievous snicker leaves my lips. I know that this is a suicide mission because my mom will kill me, but I couldn’t pass that chance.
I make sure that I didn’t make any risky posts that I don’t remember. The feeds of my other social media are fine, a detail that makes me sigh with relief. It seems like I’m finally learning how to control my drunk self after all.
Apart from the photo, everything looks okay.
