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“Sounds like you two had a lot of fun,” Elizabeth says, helping me down to the couch. “Samantha hasn’t been able to stop talking about you since you two met.”
I try to stand up but can’t find my footing. “Slow down, you’ve had a lot of MDMA,” she laughs. “You can almost rival Samantha with that much.”
“I—I’ve had what?” I slur my words.
“Those drinks. She didn’t tell you?” She stands up and walks to the kitchen. “Samantha!”
I slump into the couch, my head suddenly pounding. I’m afraid if I don’t keep my eyes open, I may lose consciousness. Elizabeth comes rushing back and kneels beside me.
“You okay, buddy?” she asks, her voice contorted.
“He’s fine!” Sam sits next to me and pats Elizabeth’s shoulder. They turn into blurring silhouettes.
Sam reaches over and rubs my dick, but it burns when she touches it. I flinch at her touch and move her hand away. “Was I better than Taylor?” she whispers into my ear.
My body goes rigid. I sincerely hope she didn’t say that.
“Did you hear me? Was my pussy better than Taylor’s? Your sister’s?”
I go to look at Elizabeth but she’s already across the house breaking up a fight between two addicts. Sam’s hands roam across my chest. “Well?” she says.
“I have to go,” I mumble, forcing myself up using the table for balance. My hands land in a pile of cocaine and Sam shoves me. “That’s two hundred dollars right there!” she screams. I stumble to the side, using the wall to guide me out the front door.
MDMA. MDMA. MDMA.
The words repeat in my head over again.
MDMA. MDMA. MDMA.
The sidewalk looks cozy. Maybe I’ll take a nap here.
MDMA. MDMA. MDMA.
A pair of hands grasp my shoulders as I fall to my knees, ready to embrace the concrete.
“Fuck, get in the car,” a garbled voice says. It sounds like a robot. Robots are creepy. Robots aren’t real.
“I’m a hockey player. Don’t touch me,” I say, looking up at the silhouette above me. The hands wrap under my armpits and drag me to a car. They strap me into a seat and now I can see the dark road in front of me, the yellow lines blurring beneath the hood. Trippy.
“Someone once told me those lines are actually ten feet long but look like they’re only ten inches long,” I say to the hands driving the car. “You know what else is ten inches long?”
The hand slaps my face. Ouch. “My dick,” I say. Another slap to the face.
The lines stop blurring beneath the hood. The hands drag me out of the car and up some stairs. Then more stairs and more fucking stairs until my head hits something soft and nice, like the softness of a mother’s bosom.
* * *
A soft light wakes me up, making me realize I have no idea where I am or what time it is. I sit up to see I’m in my own bed, blinking away the fog. Levi is sitting in a chair on the opposite end of my room, sleeping with his head against the wall.
“Levi?” I mutter. My throat is sore. “Levi!”
He lifts his head, clearly dazed. God, why does my head hurt so bad?
He glares at me with his arms crossed as if I’m a child in trouble. “Good morning,” he sneers. He wears the same clothes as last night.Last night.MDMA. Sam.What did I do?
“What did I do?” I ask out loud this time. He sits forward and places his elbows on his knees.
“You got fucked up, my friend. Real bad. You’re lucky I found you.”
