“Gotta be half an hour late.”
I read the message on my phone’s screen, it’s from Mark, meaning he’s going to be late... Not a bad thing, though. I’ve done everything except actually getting ready. Elizabeth is on the couch, already trying to open the second bottle of wine; she hasn’t learned from the first one. The wine stain still hasn’t come out of the carpet.
“Go to the kitchen and struggle with it there!” I put my phone down next to the television.
““Go to the kitchen and” blah blah, what’s the big deal now?” she mocks while staring at the carpet. My lips form words, but I decide to reconsider them before saying anything out loud.
It was a mistake calling her to help me get ready.
First, she got hungry and started cooking, which was definitely not a quick snack! Her little stomach demanded “Drunken Chicken,” which of course required alcohol. If I hadn’t known her for ages, I’d be mad at her for touching my liquor stash, but what hurt more was that she tried to open the bottle over the carpet with a knife because she couldn’t find the corkscrew. It also bothers me a bit that we drank the rest after cooking, even though I didn’t want to show up drunk at Derek’s house party. But the guilt really hits me now, as she’s opening a second one for the same reason, and I agree with it. She’s struggling so much with the bottle that I sigh out of sheer pain; it’s hard to watch.
“Look, I know you’re saving the whiskey and energy drinks for when something great happens... But I think this is a pretty fitting occasion.” my friend bargains while fighting with the bottle. Her face twists into a weird grimace as she keeps trying to push the cork in with the knife, carefully, which is exactly why she’s failing.
“Meh, struggle a little more.” I shake my head with a faint smirk. She snaps her head up at me, groans loudly, and tries again. Her ginger hair falls into her face, her freckles shifting positions with the grimace, and she looks at me with sad eyes. “Alright, fine, bring it over.” I give in, and she jumps up and rushes to the fridge.
My eyes scan the room. The stains and dishes reveal my future plan. Tomorrow, I’m making Eliz help me with a huge cleanup, the kitchen’s also a battlefield, and it’s all waiting for us. I jerk my head up at the sound of clattering. Until she showed up, my only concern for tonight was what to wear. Now, I have to make sure my apartment stays intact, too.
“Got it, don’t worry!”
“I figured you’d find it...” I mutter to myself as I sit down on the couch. She joins me in moments, opening both the bottle and an energy drink. She doesn’t know how to mix them properly, so I handle that part.
“You don’t want to wash your hair?”
“Wasn’t part of my plan...” I ran my fingers through my brown strands, a bit uncertain. Maybe she has a point.
“Is there someone there you want to impress?” At her question, Dante appears in my mind’s eye.
“No.” I shoot back immediately, chasing away the thought.
“Then you’re fine.” she takes a sip from her glass, and so do I. “ If you wear a hat.”
“I’m not wearing a hat. Am I fine or not?”
“I’m messing with you. Your hair is perfect!” she laughs and playfully nudges my shoulder, but I don’t believe her anymore. With my glass in hand, I walk over to the mirror on the wall and start fiddling with my hair with my free hand. I’m completely lost.
“Elizabeth! I didn’t call you over to sabotage my night!”
“When did you last wash your hair?”
“Yesterday...”
“See? I told you it’s fine! I’ll straighten it for you, and no one will even notice you slept on it.” she reassures me with a smile. “Are you going to believe everything I tell you when you’re drunk?”
I don’t even answer her question, just smirk sarcastically and settle back into the spot next to her. In response, she jumps up beside me, puts her glass down on the black coffee table, and rushes into my bedroom. I look after her with wide eyes. You never know what her next move will be. I down my whiskey, which burns my throat, making me cough a little from the courage. I refill my empty glass.
“What are you up to?” I ask after a few minutes, but she doesn’t answer. She just tosses the extension cord next to the table and rushes off to the bathroom. My eyebrows shoot up in confusion, but when she returns with my hair straightener and a comb, my mouth drops open. “You mean right now?”
“When else? You’re still in sweatpants and a tank top, at least get your hair ready.”
Elizabeth starts turning my bird’s nest into a work of art while sipping her drink. I sit with my back to her, praying she doesn’t burn my neck or ear like last time.
The TV still plays her music on a loop. For some reason, she’s really enjoying the vibe, even though she’s staying home. She hums softly, even sways a little to the rhythm, or, at one point, grabs the comb handle and crows loudly along with the vocalist.
“Are you having fun?” my glass is empty, but I can’t get up now.
“Oh, for some reason, so much!” she giggles softly. “ I don’t know why, but I feel like partying!”
“Want to go instead of me?”
“What?! Why?!”
“I’m a bit skeptical about the night. I only really know Lucas from that group...”
“But you’re close with Lucas! You should be happy you’ll see him!” she shakes my shoulder lightly, encouraging me. I sigh at the mention of his name.
Lucas hangs out with Mark, Dante, and Chris, the same crowd, but the difference is I’ve known Lucas for years. Not that it means we’re friends, though! We get along fine if we happen to bump into each other, but he always teases me. Lost in thought, I remember the past, as if he’s standing in front of me with his towering two meters, joking about how short I am, fearing I might trip over myself. Then the image shifts to another moment—if anyone besides Mark is around, Lucas becomes ridiculously distant. That guy is a total mystery.
“Yeah, I get to see him...” I nod a few times as she smooths out my hair. “I just don’t know which version of him.”
“Oh, come on, you know there’s no other version... You know? “Helllooo!” ” Eliz and I burst into laughter as another memory of Lucas pops up.
It might have been about two years ago when we were waiting for Mark in front of his school, but Lucas showed up before my boyfriend. I’ll admit, I was dressed a bit provocatively, but still... Even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t really check me out, and the way he said hello... It was phenomenal. Elizabeth’s theory is this: Lucas acts weird around me because he likes me, but that theory falls apart in so many places that I don’t take it seriously. I’m convinced he has multiple personalities.
I don’t get the chance to put my thoughts into words, because Eliza, with a slight yelp, drops the straightener on her foot. She screams and flings it so far that the extension cord goes flying with it. I turn around to see what caused such a reaction, but when I spot Mark, his face red with frustration, I drop my glass. Luckily, it’s empty, and it lands on the couch, so I quickly pick it up and place it on the table.
“Why aren’t you ready yet?!”
“Elizabeth got me drunk!”
“You drank on your own too...” she mutters quietly as she gets up to turn off the straightener.
“Go to the bedroom right now and get dressed!” he points to my room. “ I was half an hour late, then another ten minutes because of the drive, and by the time you’re ready... Ah, by the time we get to Vernon’s... Damn it! I hope you don’t plan on putting on makeup!”
“Of course, I do!” before he can argue about that too, I refill my glass, grab my friend by the arm, and drag her into the bedroom as fast as I can.
Eliza shuts the door behind us. Frozen by the situation, we just stare ahead for a moment, then burst into uncontrollable laughter. Eliz leans against the door, sliding down to the floor with her back pressed to it, covering her mouth with her hand, while I sit down on the bed, holding my head. We’re ridiculously late. Once we calm down, our eyes meet, and another fit of giggles escapes us. It takes a while to completely relax, but when the moment comes, I exhale and take a sip from my glass. She gets up off the floor, walks over to me, and takes the glass from my hand, downing its contents before handing it back.
“What are we living for?”
“Excuse me?”
“Strip down!” she commands, and I follow her orders in shock. I place my glass on the nightstand and strip down to my underwear. She looks me over thoroughly, which makes me instinctively cover my chest, and then she steps over to the wardrobe and starts tossing all my neatly folded clothes onto the bed.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” I raise my voice, but she doesn’t answer. She’s just throwing my summer clothes left and right, humming deeply.
“I think this mini skirt would look great with this crop top.” she holds them up, and my jaw drops. At first, no sound comes out, only after I take a deep breath.
“I think you’re insane. I don’t wear stuff like that! Those are your clothes you should’ve taken home ages ago.”
“I lent them to you for boyfriend hunting!”
“I’m still single! Maybe these rags are cursing me with eternal singlehood...” I shake my head, and she pulls a face.
We spend about ten minutes picking out clothes to see what matches best. She sits on the bed pointing things out, while I, standing there nearly naked, rub my chin, passing judgment. Do I really have nothing to wear? Yet my bed is still full of clothes...
“Are you done yet?!” Mark barges in, and we both drunkenly snap at him in unison that the living room is more spacious. He stands there frozen, staring at us.
“You perverted animal!” Eliza throws one of my shirts at him, snapping him out of it, and he retreats just as quickly as he enters.
It takes another five minutes before we finally settle on gray leggings and a black crop top with red roses on it. I step out of my room with newfound confidence, but Mark wipes it away with a single disdainful look in mere seconds. I immediately turn around to change again, but he appears out of nowhere, grabbing my hand to stop me.
“You look great. I was glaring at Elizabeth.” he reassures me with his words, letting go of my hand and looking over my shoulder at my friend.
“I didn’t even do anything this time!”
“So that chicken in the kitchen, you had Nina make it?”
“Exactly! Or, well... We made it together. Was it good? Did you eat?” she tries to change the subject, but she’s trying to play the one person for a fool who hasn’t had a drop to drink.
“Actually, yes, it was delicious...” she did it!
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“Glad to hear that!” she flashes her usual fake smile as she pats Mark on the shoulder. Now that I take a better look at him, he’s dressed just as simply as ever. His gray jeans barely cover his knees, and his black T-shirt emphasizes his muscles.
“Get a move on and put on your makeup, woman!” he growls at me, his chestnut-brown eyes practically killing me. I have no choice; once again, with Eliz at my side, I head to the bathroom for her to put a subtle makeup look on me.
“Hey...” she says while working the eyeliner. “ You guys were mostly late because of me. How about I stay here, call William over, and we’ll clean up?”
“Why do you need William for that?”
“I don’t feel comfortable being alone.”
I don’t answer. My smile says everything. I’m not worried they’ll steal anything or throw a wild party. In fact, it makes me happy that she and William are getting along so well. My face is done quickly, mainly because she only put on some foundation and highlighted my eyes, and soon enough, I find myself in the car, trying to navigate Mark to Derek’s place. The only problem is that I’m completely drunk.
“Which way do I go here?”
“Yes...” I mumble while looking at my phone. I see the GPS, but I can’t make sense of it.
“What?” he looks at me, and I panic completely.
“Left.” I answer, and when I see that the little car icon continues down the designated path, I breathe a huge sigh of relief.
I did it! I’m not totally useless!
The ride takes no more than half an hour, but it feels like an eternity to me. I agreed to drink to loosen up, yet I still have my doubts about tonight. It’s as if the universe is warning me through every part of my body to brace myself for the coming hours.
My nervous system sends weird signals to my brain as we pull into the driveway. The house is still under construction, judging by the paint buckets scattered around.
The loud music seeps out from the basement door that faces the street, while the guys’ voices are loud enough to disturb the entire neighborhood. Mark gently brushes his hand over my shoulder, and I instinctively look at him. His soft smile reassures me.
“Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”
“Okay... Alright, I believe you.” I take a deep breath before Mark gets out of the car and, in a gentlemanly fashion, opens the door for me.
My body doesn’t really want to move without some prompting. I crawl out of the passenger seat and fix my hair, not that it helps with anything, but it makes me feel better. Mark grabs my wrist and leads me down into the basement without knocking, as no one would hear it anyway. He enters this unfamiliar place like he owns it.
“Finally!” Peter exclaims as we arrive.
“Sorry for being late...” Mark apologizes, waving at everyone.
“Partly my fault too, sorry.” I admit, though no one really pays attention to my words. Everyone’s already pretty wasted.
The basement is comfortably furnished. One room has a huge table littered with empty and half-full bottles, glasses, and tons of chairs around it. The other room holds an enormous couch, clearly meant for us to pass out on once the sun rises, one on top of the other. The first people I recognize at the table are Derek and Lucas. I don’t see the others anywhere. I timidly step further in with Mark at my side, and while he greets everyone, I ask Lucas if the seat next to him is taken. Instead of answering, he pulls me into a long hug.
“Ahh, the little one has arrived! Sit here next to me!” as soon as he lets go, I do as he asks, though I can’t ignore the fact that he’s joking about my height again.
“You know who’s the “little one” around here!”
“You are!” he messes up my hair, and when I jab him in the ribs, he instantly curls up. “Alright, alright... What are you drinking?”
“Whatever you give me...” I glance up at him, and I guess he reads my soul because he laughs at my worried look. His brown eyes practically sparkle as he laughs, his voice echoing through the basement. He must’ve had quite a bit to drink.
“How long have you two known each other?” Derek joins the conversation, noticing that I communicate more easily with him than anyone else.
“A few years...” Lucas mutters, fully focused on pouring wine from a pitcher into an empty glass before handing it to me.
“Just six years, I think…” I recall the old days and then take a sip of my drink. Maybe I shouldn’t mix too much tonight.
“Yeah, they’ve known each other for six years.” Mark sits down next to us, holding an already opened beer in his hand.
Time keeps passing, but I don’t pay much attention to anyone other than Mark, Lucas, and Derek. Even though I’ve met Christopher, Dante, and Gerry, I don’t want to let anyone get too close to me while I’m drunk, at least not more than necessary. As the hours go by, frequent cigarette breaks interrupt the conversation. I often join them, but sometimes I stay inside with Lucas, listening to music, he doesn’t smoke, after all. Yet, after my umpteenth beer, I stand up from my chair and mention that I’d love a cigarette and ask if anyone could offer me one. In no time, at least five people get up with me to head outside for a smoke.
Despite the storm we saw on the way, the weather is pleasant outside, even though it has now hit this town too. Thunder rumbles and lightning flashes across the sky, but it’s not enough to deter anyone from indulging in their harmful habits. One of the guys - named Conor - lights the cigarette I got from Derek, and I take deep drags from it, turning my head toward the direction where we first saw the lightning. Occasionally, it illuminates the entire landscape, a truly beautiful sight.
“You okay, bro?” Peter’s voice catches my ear, and I immediately look down. Dante is sitting next to the basement door in a fetal position, hugging his legs tightly and breathing heavily. He struggles to get the words out. How long has it been since I last saw him? Two hours, maybe? Has he been sitting here all this time?
“No...” he replies curtly, so I crouch down beside him.
“Should I bring you something?”
“I don’t need anything, thanks.” he tries to look up at my voice, but as soon as he moves his head, it slumps back down into its original position.
“Alright then!” Peter shrugs. I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head. He’s obviously not okay... How can Peter just leave it at that?
“Let us know if you need anything.” Christopher speaks up beside me, and Dante sighs loudly.
“I just want to stay here for a while, thanks.” he dismisses everyone around him, and I’m not sure what the wisest course of action would be. It might be a good idea to sit with him for a while as I finish my cigarette.
I sit down on the ground next to him, wrapping my arms around my legs just like him, holding the cigarette in one hand. He must sense my fearful gaze because I hear him snort softly, likely accompanied by a smile. The silence between us is only disturbed by the nearby group’s chatter and the music, yet this moment has its own sense of peace and tranquility. It feels as though I can shut everything else out, and it’s just him and me here, at least that’s how I’m experiencing it. Cautiously, he removes his hand from around his legs and uncertainly places it on my knee before taking a deep breath and speaking.
“Go back inside, enjoy yourself.”
“I am enjoying myself, thanks.” I grab his hand for a moment, but I keep the cigarette away from him, not wanting to ash on his fingers. Silence settles between us again, but I break it this time. “I don’t get why people drink so much when they can’t handle it.”
“I can handle it!”
“I can see that.” luckily, he doesn’t see me rolling my eyes, but Peter gets a good laugh out of it.
“Seriously! I just... mixed everything together, it messed up my stomach.”
“Responsible drinking, huh? Maybe you should go for a walk, clear your head.” I glance at the guys around us, and they pick up on the hint right away, gently patting Dante on the shoulder.
“Come on, let’s take a walk, alright?” Peter smiles at him, but Dante pushes him away.
“Don’t touch me, I’ll puke!” he warns, or maybe threatens, though I get a good laugh out of the situation.
“But it would help...” Mark chimes in as he steps over, offering his hand to help me back to my seat next to Lucas.
“Right now... staying here is what helps!” Dante emphasizes his words by raising his voice. The others don’t need to be told twice. We head back to the basement and continue drinking as if Dante isn’t outside, nearly dying of alcohol poisoning.
I can’t shake the thought that while I’m in here drinking and singing, he’s still out there trying to pull himself together in the same position. No matter how much alcohol I throw down my throat, the guilt eats away at me more than the booze does. His quiet suffering gnaws at me. I tell the others I’m stepping out for some air, but in truth, I just want to see if the guys have done anything to help him.
The sight that greets me surprises me. I stop about three meters away, with Lucas by my side, and get a clear view of them trying to pry open Dante’s jaw to make him drink some water. He resists with every breath, whining, yelling, and swatting at those around him. The others seem to be faring much better than he is. Their efforts succeed, at least in getting him to drink the water, but they don’t expect what happens next. Dante pushes himself to the ground and empties the contents of his stomach. I shake my head in disbelief. How does someone let themselves get this wasted? Taking a deep breath, I help him back to his spot, smiling as I gently fix his messy, disheveled hair.
“Feeling better?”
“These are beasts!” he glares at the others, but it doesn’t take long for him to stop mentally killing them with his eyes. He drops his head between his legs again, continuing what he was doing before.
“I think you should just let it all out...” I quietly suggest. He nods a few times and leans back over the spot where he had relieved his stomach earlier. I laugh, and it’s not just me, Lucas, Peter, and a couple of the other guys are all laughing at this point.
“We should call an ambulance...”
“I’m fine! Relax! I’m fine!” he repeats, pushing us away with one hand. Fine, then. Everyone steps back a little. Who are we to stop him from quietly throwing up? Once he’s done, he rinses his mouth with the bottled water and then assumes his new favorite position.
“Look, he can’t stay like this... What if you guys put him in the car to lie down?” I suggest, and at that moment, I feel a familiar touch on my arm and Mark’s chin resting on my shoulder.
“I agree.”
“I’m on board.” Peter looks at Derek, signaling that it’s time to get Dante to bed.
“Yeah, sleeping it off would probably help...” Dante agrees.
“But he can’t be left alone, he might choke on his own vomit.” Christopher points out the problem. Everyone acts like there’s no solution, when in reality, they just don’t want to babysit him. The party inside is huge.
“Fine, I’ll sit with him until he falls asleep.”
“No way!” Mark protests, but I turn to him with a smile.
“Once he’s asleep, I’ll come back and we’ll keep drinking.”
“But... Fine.” he gives in, probably because his favorite song is playing inside.
With that settled, three of them help get Dante into the car since he can’t walk on his own. They recline the seat halfway and leave the door open. I end up beside him again, now in the car. For a while, I stay quiet, not sure how to start a conversation, and honestly, he’s too focused on trying to purge his system. He gags, even starting to bring up stomach acid. Several long minutes pass before he finally leans his head back on the seat and begins breathing normally. I’m truly at a loss for what to say. He’s in such bad shape, I’m not sure he’d even be able to respond.
He’s the one who breaks the silence, but not with words. I hear soft sniffles, and my head snaps up as I place my hand on his thigh, leaning closer.
“Hey... are you okay?”
“No, nothing’s okay.” he admits quietly, wiping his tears. “I just wanted to blow off steam from the stress of exams, but all I did was ruin my own night... and yours too.” he speaks slowly, tears streaming down his sharp jawline. I can’t see his face clearly, but I know it’s contorted in pain.
“Come on, Dante, I enjoy your company.” I try to comfort him, gently patting his shoulder, hoping he’ll calm down soon. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
“Mark is so lucky to have a girlfriend like you.” he sniffles softly, resting his hand on mine.
“Mark and I aren’t together, and we never will be.” I clarify, my voice soft but firm. Dante tenses up at my words, squeezing my hand.
“So, I still have a chance with you, right?”
Silence falls between us again. I don’t know what to say... Sure! I’m here! I’ll be your girlfriend! Just the thought of him assuming that Mark and I are together isn’t far-fetched, but still, it’s just an assumption. I don’t feel like Mark and I would make a good couple, I don’t want to grow old beside someone like Mark. He’s practically my brother, we’ve lived our lives together, but I don’t want to have kids with him, and he’s not the one I want to say “yes” to.
“You can have anyone, Dante. You don’t need me.” and I mean it. Just because alcohol has loosened his tongue and stirred up childish emotions doesn’t mean I’m what he truly wants.
“You really think so?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know...” he spits on the ground. “I've spent the last few years focusing so much on studying and trying to make my parents proud, trying to achieve as much as possible, that I’ve completely forgotten how to live, how to get a girlfriend... I’ve lost myself in all of it.”
“It’s not too late. Life will wait for you.” I remind him, and he squeezes my hand.
“There should be more people like you. I want a girlfriend like you.”
“You’re drunk, Dante. Get it together...” I remind him as I pull my hand away, and he starts going on about how sober he really is.
As we sit in the car, with him insisting he’s fine, I realize that he looks like he should be taken straight to detox. He shoots me a convincing look, as if trying to prove he’s alright, and in his eyes, I see something I haven’t found in anyone else for years. He’s lying through his teeth, of course, because the next second he turns toward the window gasping for fresh air, but even so... that brief moment was enough. That look stirred all the butterflies in my stomach, and a wave of euphoria swept through my mind. Something broke and mended inside me all at once.
Still, I can’t bring myself to act. I sink deeper into the seat and cast my eyes away in shame. I reach out to him as if he’s unattainable, and though he’s sitting less than thirty centimeters away from me, I feel like it’s impossible to reach him. As with anything that’s bound to happen, it happens. I reach out and run my fingertips gently along his velvety skin, as though he might break at any moment. For safety’s sake, I glance at him again, and that’s when I notice his sly smile and hear his playful chuckle.
This man will be my undoing, killing me with his wicked smile and then reviving my heart with the sweet sound of his laughter. I want a boyfriend like him.