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After every hard slap to my cheeks, painful pinch, or rough eye rub, reality hits like a bitch.
I truly was awake.
I slap myself again, harder this time.
Nope, the results remain the same: Me, naked and standing in a clutter of clothes instead of bolting upright in bed, having escaped a damn awful nightmare.
This is real.
What occurred... is real.
The horrific screams Lucas was bellowing right now were real.
And about that, I slip on a tank and sweat pants and search for him. Outside my room I collide into Piper.
Oh, shit. She’s back from visiting her family.
“Hey, friend, hey. How’s it going? Great morning isn’t it? How ya been?”
I clamp my lips shut and immediately tense. I had forgotten about her. Does she know?
“Whoa, there. What are you smoking this early? And can I have some?” She laughs, shoulders lifting. That’s when I noticed she still wore outing clothes and held a duffel bag.
“You’re now just getting home?” I held my breath.
“Yep. Time to crash.” On cue she yawned. “Spent hours on a flight. Didn’t get a full sleep. I bet you had a better night than me—”
“WHAT? NO! WE DIDN’T! NOTHING HAPPENED!” Smooth, Kokoa. I try for nonchalance like I hadn’t just burst a freak out bubble on her. Piper frowns, clearly suspicious. She hooks a thumb in the direction of the kitchen.
“I saw the aftermath of a food fight and the empty bottles.”
“Oh, yeah, that. Right, right. Good times. Crazy, super crazy. I-I’ll clean it up.” I’m shifting on either foot, bobbing my head. Let her think I am on something. Beats the truth.
“Ooookaaay. I’ll be in my room...” She hesitates, scrutinizing my expression which I try to keep neutral. It was difficult when screams erupted again from the living room. “And tell him to shut the fuck up. I need sleep.”
“Roger that. Sweet dreams, gorgeous.” I smile, innocently. She pauses again and leans closer.
“Seriously, what type of shit are you snortin’? It’s okay, you can tell me. Just because I’m banging a cop doesn’t mean I’m on the straight and narrow.”
“Um—”
“SON OF A BITCH! WHYYYYYY?” Lucas yells.
“Is he dying?” Piper arches a dark green eyebrow.
“Why don’t you just get your beauty sleep on and I’ll handle him.” Inwardly I wince at my choice of words. I don’t even want to think how I handled him last night. Piper shrugs and disappears into her room. Swivelling, I storm into the living room.
Lucas was curled, rocking in a corner. Thankfully, he has on pants.
I stomp over to him and crouched in his pain ridden face. Oh, jeez.
“Honestly, is the thought of having sex with me that horrible?” I whisper, fiercely. Don’t get me wrong, what we did is, well, wrong, but I’m not a pathetic, soggy pb and j sandwich either.
“It’s not that.” He frowns, gesturing to me and said, “You’re hot as hell—”
“Tone it down some. I may barf.” I groan.
“And if things were different—”
“Don’t finish that.”
“But you get my drift?”
“Trying not to.”
“It’s just, that’s all fantasy. Imaginary bullshit. I’d never really thought... it’ll happen.” He cringes.
I do too.
“Okay, calm down. Piper’s here so we can’t talk too loudly,” I say folding my legs underneath my bum. Lucas straightens, nodding, and nervously checks the hallway that led to Piper’s room.
“We’re not telling her, right?” he whispers.
“Of course not.” What’s there to tell? I gnaw my thumbnail, frantically thinking how to get out of this bind we’re in. I have no recollection of last night that ended with us in bed. Nor images or exact feelings of ever having sex with him...
“Do you remember anything?” I prod. He leans forward, arms draped over his knees. Forehead scrunched in concentration. I know it’s not the time to joke but he does the same look when we play tic-tac-toe as if we’re in a stalemate in a game of diabolical chess.
“I remember the tequila.”
“Me too.” I wince. Damn you, fun juice. I thought we were friends? I brace for the path ahead.
“Ummm... I remember trashing the kitchen.” He looks to me for more. Expression etched in helplessness. Lost. Was mine like that too? Most likely. Gods, I was drawing a big empty blank.
I just don’t know!
Breathing in and out, calming myself—I drew up last night’s events.
We trashed the kitchen.
Yes.
We turned my room upside down.
Clearly. While getting dressed I almost busted my ass on the small lake of lotion we must’ve dumped on my bathroom floor.
“You were upset,” I say. “About Yasmin.”
We were both approaching sensitive territory with each other. Yasmin revealed to me she actually likes his antics although she was seen getting cozy with another guy.
Seen by Lucas who basically is two seconds from being in love with her.
Lucas clenches his jaw. Thoughts parallel to mine.
“I poured us more drinks,” he continues.
“Right... right.” That’s true. Apparently, we weren’t giving any shits, straddling the line between trouble and deeper trouble.
Then after that...?
Lucas and I sit quietly, staring off into space, thinking...
Thinking.
Failing.
I drop my head in my hands, whimpering. I feel him rub my back, soothingly.
“Kokoa?”
“Yeah?” I sigh, rising to meet his worried gaze.
“No matter what happened, if anything happened, nothing will change between us, right?” He searches my eyes. “I can’t.” He pauses, exhaling. “I can’t live without you in my life and for something like this to make things with us awkward or even potentially ruin—”
I shush him then. “Nothing will change. I won’t. You won’t. Well, unless you kill a person because that’s just wrong. Our friendship would have to end there.” That makes him chuckle, breathy, swaying strands of my hair.
Then he detaches, suddenly horrified.
“I’m at fault here. I-I sabotaged this friendship.”
“Lucas, I just said nothing is ending it. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Look.” He points to the kitchen counter littered with balled napkins, glasses, paper plates that I suddenly remember we used as frisbees.
In the messy fray of laid down bottles, only one stood upright.
The blood in my body turned cold.
“That’s not what I think it is...”
“It is,” he says in a small voice. “We were downing all the other shit we mixed together like water, I figured why not try something a little bit stronger?”
He nailed that.
Viper Spit.
It’s extremely strong and only a few drops are meant to be added into less potent drinks. That’s all. I can’t believe we actually purchased it and brought it into our house.
The entire bottle was empty.
When humans get drunk, like severely hammered, that’s a supernatural’s tipsy. We still can get a little impaired, nothing that we can’t handle. Our metabolism is just uber superior so there are brews out there for us to actually get wasted from.
Enter: Viper Spit.
Brain death served to you in brandy-colored, liquid form. As I stated, only drops of it can be added to simple drinks to give it a kick. Add a shit ton more, then you’ll end up like Lucas and I after we got trampled by a stampede of bulls. Ingesting too much of it will cause the body to act like a lifeless puppet, it’s hijacked and who knows what other entity takes over because any sort of awareness is chucked out the window and then trampled on by more bulls.
Who’s to say we actually did kill someone last night and then came home and jumped into bed—I’m not going to further entertain that.
Memories are shot, for how long? During what time span? I don’t know. I vaguely remember seeing the numbers 6, 3, and 5.
On a clock?
P.M.?
A.M.?
As of now, it was noon.
I groan, rubbing circles in my temples. So stupid, I only cared about not feeling, not thinking about Gavin—Ugh, that’s a lie. I do care—a whole lot, and that’s the problem. Because I should be blazing in anger and be creeped the hell out over finding his secret stash of portraits of me. Not just normal paintings, no, I have no issue of Gavin painting me without my consent. He’s a damn fine artist who can do as he pleases. It’s the many pictures of me before we’d even met has me on freak out mode.
After I’d uncovered it, I hightailed it home, cutting short the stay at his place. I’m too much of a punk to call or face him.
So, instead I joined Lucas in a pity drinking party. Thus the hazy decision of thinking it’s a damn good idea to knock back Viper.
Disconnecting from the world is exactly what you wanted, my ex-friend, Conscious, said. With each plug pulled, another shot you took.
Yay, me...
Unlike other cases, I can’t just let it go and move on. There are hours of black holes that I need to get back. Even though I told Lucas that nothing will change between us, I would still like to know if we really did sleep together.
And I know just the person who can help.
“You get started on cleaning up.” I jump to my feet.
“Alright.” Lucas waits for me to continue.
“I’m going to make a phone call.”