Chapter nineteen: Is this a drunken joke?

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

𝙄𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙟𝙤𝙠𝙚?

For the majority of the trip, I don't mention the whole Lexi Taylor being Alex's girlfriend crap to him.

I've concluded that's it neither my business or my problem. If Alex has decided to be in a relationship when he likes me, that's all on him. It's not my fault, and I don't have a right to feel jealous or hurt. It's not like I'm dating him, which is why I don't know why I feel so hurt.

I'm not dating him. He did not ask me out.

I should stop fixating on that.

It's awkward looking at him knowing that he may like me while having a girlfriend and I can't do anything even though I'm stuck in my feelings for him. There is that possibility that Lexi was lying and I can't completely rule that out, but I also can't rule out the fact that she could be telling the truth.

If I'm honest, I hoped that this trip would be a whole lot more fun. The activities we did were enjoyable, even the boring bits as Cami always makes things somewhat more pleasant, but I couldn't dispose of the slight hollow feeling in my chest every time I looked at Alex or Lexi.

It is at this point where I've given up trying to battle my mind and admitted to myself that I do have some sort of feelings for Alex. I don't know when it happened or why it's hit me so suddenly, but that's what I'm dealing with now, and I don't know what to do. Like, at all.

On the day before we go home, the teachers have deemed us responsible enough to go out into London without them, as long as we're in a group of a least three. Cami, Lucy and I figured it would be cool to go to Oxford Street as the girls both have always wanted to go. Me being the leader I supposedly am here, I take them.

As soon as we get there, which was only 15 minutes by train, we choose to go into a Starbucks before looking around.

As I order, I can't help but notice how flirty the distinctly gay barista is toward me. The guy even winks at me as I pick my drink up. I smile sweetly back out of kindness. My mind travels back to when that guy waiter guy, Nathan, gave me his number. I haven't spoken to him since.

Although I am flattered, this only causes thoughts to begin to whiz around my mind. Is it that obvious that I'm gay? Or maybe he just had excellent gaydar? I want to stop being so paranoid about this, but I can't. Is it that bad that I may appear gay? Because that's what I am. Gay. I'm pretty sure. Like pretty sure.

When we sit down at the window seats, the door beside me jingles, signalling that someone has walked in. Naturally looking up, shock and horror overtake me. Lexi and her gang strut inside, all are casting me a side-eye.

"Great, you're here too," Lexi sneers at me. Grow up.

I'm about to snap back at her, but then I change my mind and choose to do something else instead; something that will help the situation instead of making it worse. There's no point in fighting fire with fire, especially as I have not done anything wrong. So, I jump up from my seat and approach the disgruntled girl.

"Can I talk to you outside for a second?" I ask. She doesn't reply, tightly pressing her lips together. I walk towards the door, holding it open and gesturing my head towards outside, to which she rolls her eyes but complies anyway. "I'll be back," I say to my friends, who both look at me questionably. I shake my head.

"What do you want?" Lexi spits as soon as I shut the door behind me and we're left standing in the chilly British wind.

"I think what you said to me the other day was very wrong of you," I say calmly, the exact opposite to the feeling of anger and anxiety inside me.

She shakes her head, "OK, nice to know. And?"

I ignore her rudeness and carry on, "To accuse me of trying to turn a straight guy gay was not right of you. Look, I know you're hurt because I left you alone that night and I'm sorry for that, really, but that doesn't give you the excuse to spread rumours or accuse me of completely incorrect things."

"Right." She says sardonically.

"You need to understand that using the word fag against someone is not OK. At all. It's oppressive. Spreading rumours and threatening people isn't OK, either. Nothing is going on between Alex and me, and there has never been. All I know is that he likes me."

She scoffs. However, I carry on nonetheless.

"If you are actually in a relationship with him, then I'm truly sorry that you're in this situation and if you haven't talked to him about it, I advise you do but if it's all a lie then... nah, don't do shit like that. Alex is bisexual; you know that, I know that. So, please, don't put a label on him if he's said that being straight is not what he is, especially if he is your boyfriend. And please, for your benefit, take a moment to realise the impact of your own words on people because you most likely don't know what the fuck you're doing. I'm telling you this to make you aware of how much of a shitty person you are right now. Don't fuck with people's heads like that."

I'm surprised at how quickly the anxiety that had seemed like it was going to take over me any moment had faded away. Usually, I can't do confrontation. I never stick up for myself. But now— now my anxiousness has seemed to have hidden away. I guess I'm angrier than I thought I was. Possibly because of how much this stuff hits close to home.

I stop speaking, and we stand there for a minute, both in silence. Lexi looks at me right in the eyes, and I wait for her to say something, anything that could redeem her in this situation. An apology, a valid explanation, whatever that would be. But nothing.

She just rolls her eyes at me and says, "Whatever." before pushing past and entering the coffee shop to rejoin her friends once again.

Stunned at her lack of sympathy, I stand there alone for a moment before I realise how strange I may look and go back in the shop myself to meet with curious gazes.

That did not go quite to plan, obviously, but I guess it's not that easy trying to make someone realise how horrible they are. It was with Alex, but maybe he's an alright person inside, and Lexi isn't so much? And perhaps he thought about it more? I don't think it was even me who changed him, anyway. If Lexi doesn't want to apologise and carries on being a bitch, that's on her, but I'm not going to be one back. There's absolutely no point.

"What did you say to her? I hope you put her in her place," Lucy says, turning towards me as soon as I sit back down. She hands me back my coffee that she looked after while I was gone.

I shrug, staring down at the cup with disappointment, "I tried to. Taylor doesn't care, though, so I guess there's nothing I can do. Can we not talk about it right now?"

I know it's a bit far of me to assume that she would apologise straight away, but I'm just so desperate to abolish of all this stupid, immature rivalry stuff. I've only just gotten rid of mine with Alex if we ignore the rocky patch in the middle. I seriously do not need another. I don't have the time or energy. I don't think I would even be able to cope with it.

Lucy smiles sweetly at me, taking a sip from her hot chocolate, "Yeah, sure, I just hope you're OK." I smile back, nodding in response. "Good." Then her manner changes, and she begins to look excited. "Did you hear about the party being thrown tonight in the hotel pool?"


Since the pool party that some kids decided to throw is very alcohol-infused, I choose not to go. Alcohol and I don't mix well, and I'd prefer not to surround myself with a fuck load of drunk people.

I don't have a clue why they thought throwing a party where mainly everyone would be drunk in a pool would be a good idea. I mean, somebody could easily drown, but that's their problem, I guess.

I spend the evening in my hotel room, watching a random British soap I haven't seen in years on the cheap hotel T.V., utterly bored out of my mind as I have nothing better to do.

I begin questioning whether or not I should have gone to the party, but then I remember that asking myself stuff like that is like the same as asking myself if I want to overdose and die or not. To which, the answer would be a no. I don't. So I stay glued to my bed, bored, all bloody evening.

It's around 11:30 when there's a knock on the door. Opening it, I assume it's Alex forgetting his key, but I soon find out that I was incorrect. I mean, I was right about the fact that it is Alex. However, he is not here because he forgot his key. He is very much incredibly intoxicated. I also come face to face with Luke Maddison, struggling to hold him up.

"Yeah, he's kind of shit-faced drunk. Deal with him." Luke says, pushing Alex towards me and walking off.

As I catch Alex's arm before he falls against the doorframe, I quickly realise that I don't know what to do. I've never dealt with a drunk person before. What do I do with him? I can't leave him to do whatever. He's very obviously unable to even stand on his own.

I eventually use my brain and help him into the room, sitting him on his bed. He doesn't stay upright and instead flops down, so he is lying, arms outstretched towards the ceiling, giggling to himself like he has since I opened the door.

"How much have you had to drink?" I ask though I'm not quite sure he will be able to answer the question correctly.

"I don't knooow. A looooot." He says before he gives me direct eye contact, and I can't help but shrink back a little. "You've got a sexy as fuck accent, by the way. Can you talk more to me? I enjoy listening to it."

"Right. Well, um, I guess I need to help you get ready for bed, right?" I say, not to entertain him with my accent, but to let him know what I'm about to do.

He sits up, swaying as he does so. And then he's giggling again. I'm not sure what he's finding so funny, but I can't help snickering too. I shut up quickly, remembering that this is not an amusing situation. Getting drunk like this isn't healthy, especially as he's underage.

I cringe at how parent-like I sound in my head, but it is the truth. I suppose you can say I'm a tad bit more mature and self-aware than most kids my age. At least, I don't go out getting drunk like this, definitely not when I have to get on a flight the next day. But then, I guess you can put it down to the fact that I'm on medication that doesn't allow me to drink and if my head weren't such a mess, I would most likely be as drunk as Alex is right now.

"You're such a nice guy, do you know that? Like so nice. You're fucking great." Alex slurs, smiling goofily at me. He's squinting up at me as though the room is too bright for his eyes, so I do him a favour and turn on the bedside lamps before switching off the big light. 

"Stay here. I'm going to get you a glass of water." I make my way into the bathroom, grabbing a cup placed on the top of one of the chests of drawers which is next to it. "Stay here? Where's he going to go? He can't even stand on his own." I mutter to myself as I fill the cup up with cold water from the sink tap.

I hand him the cup to which he replies with an elongated, "Thaaanks." before gulping it all down in a few seconds. "Matty?" I can hear him say as I turn away from him.

I ignore the nickname but reply nonetheless, "yeah?"

"I think I'm going to throw up."

My eyes widen, and I search the room for something for him to throw up into to avoid a mess. My eyes land on a bin, so I grab it, passing it to him just in time for him to start chucking up his breakfast, lunch and dinner. I sit down beside him, rubbing circles on his back, not knowing what else to do.

After however long he took to throw everything up, he lifts his head from the bin, breathing heavily. The silly grin is off his face now, and he looks, I guess you can say, concerned for himself. Upset, maybe.

Figuring the puking has ceased, I take the bin from him and pick up the empty cup from where he left it on the nightstand, then make my way into the bathroom. I place the trash can down on the floor and fill up the cup with water once again, wondering how the Hell he let himself get into this situation. I know he is that sort of guy who parties a lot, getting drunk and sleeping around, but how drunk he is now is just dangerous.

I give him the drink by which he gulps it down again, and then I wait a moment, watching him, in case he throws up any more. Once I'm positive that it's not going to happen, I begin to take his shoes off for him, seeing as he can't do it himself and it would be best if he were more comfortable.

"Okay, I think you need to eat," I say as soon as I finish taking his shoes off him, leaving them next to his suitcase. "I have some pretzels in my bag. Do you like pretzels?"

He nods at that, beginning to laugh to himself again. Then he starts to stomp the beat to We Will Rock You, soon enough singing the first verse. Although he's off his tits at this moment, I can't help but notice how good of a singer he is. If he sounds like this when he's drunk, then what is he like sober? I had no idea he could sing so well.

Realising I've just been gawking at his singing voice, I rush to my bag to retrieve the packet of pretzels. He wolfs them down pretty fast, desperate to get all the crumbs at the bottom. I stifle a laugh, coughing to hide it. Then I remember that he's drunk and is not going to care if I'm laughing at him. He'd join in.

"Where's your girlfriend? Is she at the party?" I ask, not because I'm curious about where Lexi is, but because I'm curious about what Alex will reply to that; if he will say he has a girlfriend or not. Is this jealousy?

Drunk people are usually sincere, so I figured this would be an adequate time to ask. He'd forget I asked in the morning and we could go on like normal regardless of the answer. I'll pretend I didn't ask.

"Girlfriend? What girlfriend are you talking about?"

"Lexi Taylor. She's your girlfriend, right?"

He lets out a loud, sarcastic laugh, "Honestly, that girl has been trying to sleep with me for the past two years. I keep telling her 'no, I don't want to sleep with you, you look like a hedgehog', but she never listens to me. It's soooo annoying, ugh." He says. His voice is so slurred I have to strain my ears to understand what he's saying, but I get there in the end.

I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I felt a sense of relief wash over me. I don't know what I was expecting, asking a question like that, but it's clear that 'no, I don't have a girlfriend' was the answer I was subconsciously hoping for and that kind of freaks me out.

I feel so guilty having caught feelings for Alex. We were rivals for three years, and Cami hates his guts. She definitely would not be happy for me if I told her that I secretly wanted to make out with him all the time, ever since our kiss, which is something which would make her even more horrified. It also alarms me.

"Anyway," Alex continues, ripping the pretzel package so that it's completely flat, "I'm in love with you, so," and then he begins to lick the packet as though he did not just admit to me that he loves me.

It feels like something has knocked the wind out of my lungs, and I struggle to catch my breath. Alex loves me. Fucking loves me? Whatever this is has got to be his drunkness talking. He cannot be in love with me. I call bullshit.

Oh my goodness me.

"What do you wear to bed?" I question, completely changing the subject.

"Just underwear. Why?"

"Can you stand up, please? I need to help you get undressed," I say, fraught to get out of this uncomfortable situation. But I can't leave Alex here on his own, who knows what will happen? It's too risky. So I just have to grit my teeth and bear it. I can just pretend it never happened. Or is it better if I talk to him about it when he's sober, to see if he does love me?

I'm completely torn on what to do. The stress of this situation keeps growing upon me.

I help Alex stand before he starts to pull his shirt over his head. I'm instantly taken aback by his muscles. I always knew he was muscular, but it still shocks me to see it up close, just inches away from the touch of my fingers. I feel like he'd be able to break me if he hugged me just that bit too tight.

His tattoos as well. They're beautiful. He has a few dotted down his arms, but the one that sees me the most is the design on his hip. I can't see it all as his jeans cover half of it, though I can guess that it's a dragon. It's not necessarily the design that has caught my attention, more so the colour. Stereotypically, the dragon is green. However, the way it's been coloured make it look shiny. Even though I can only see the tail, I think it's gorgeous.

I shake my head, stopping myself from staring at him for too long. Heat rises to my cheeks as I realise I'm going to have to help him take his jeans off, as he's undoubtedly too clumsily drunk to be able to pull them off himself. Thank goodness he doesn't sleep naked or else I don't know what I'd do.

"Can you unbutton your jeans?" I order, awkwardly coughing as he does what I say. Helping him take his jeans off is one thing but unbuttoning them and unzipping the flyers just seems extra. Just that bit more sexual.

"I like this," Alex teases when I take over from where he gets too floppy to continue taking them off himself, which was around mid-thigh. I shake my head, smiling to myself. Of course, he had to make a sexual-like remark right now.

"Oh yeah?"

When his jeans are off, I have to make a conscious effort not to let my eyes trail down to his underwear and...

"Oh, absolutely. You should always undress me. Underwear next."

I look up at him. We're both smiling at each other, although the gone look in his eyes tells me he will have no memory of this conversation tomorrow. "I am not taking off your underwear, thank you."

A hidden, silly part of me wants to. Don't tell my mother.

I stayed with him all night as he slept, checking on him every ten minutes in the first hour then every hour until the morning.

To keep myself busy, I sketch random pictures in my notepad during hour one. I sleep the rest of the time, setting an alarm that would go off every hour so I could check on him. I don't know why I cared so much not to get much sleep myself, but I simply felt obliged to make sure he's alright.

Every time I told myself to leave him and go back to my bed and get some proper sleep, that he'd be fine on his own, I felt something stop me. Like some sort of hand pushing me back — figuratively, not literally of course.

The thought of him professing his love to me never left my mind for a minute. I could only wish it was just a drunken joke.

Or maybe I don't.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net