Chapter three

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Lucie had my back. The only two factors we didn't include in our plan were Brooke's watchful eye and the already filled shot we had to get rid of. Perhaps I should rephrase. The only two factors I hadn't thought about were Brooke and the filled shot. Because every single time she drags me to the kitchen after she sees a frown on my face, Lucie steps in with a distraction I can only describe as priceless. Unsuccessful but priceless nonetheless.

The first time she used the 'OMAGOD look!' strategy, then she swiftly turned around and gulped down my shot. A great attempt but useless in the presence of Brooke. She mouthed an 'I'm sorry, I tried' right before I drank my punishment shot.

The second time she tried the 'tapping the opposite shoulder' strategy. Needless to say, it was another failed but very amusing attempt. 

The third time she told me to tell Brooke she walked back onto the dancefloor. I obliged. Right before Brooke turned around she duck behind the kitchen island and crawled around it. Brooke went looking for her in the crowd and as the saying goes, the third time's a charm, our attempt was very successful. Until Brooke came back and raised her eyebrow when I did the shot of water. I'm a terrible liar and it showed. The result was one - no- two more shots. Perhaps three? I kind of lost track when my mind started to bounce along with the music. My body thoughtlessly followed and now it's a collision of waves in an ocean of beats, uncontrollably following nature's will.

"Shots!" The message ringing through my ears immediately makes my feet spin me around and I quickly reposition myself as the room was starting to spin with me, making it seem like it was one of my, of course, fabulous, not drunk dance moves.

"One for you," Lucie hands me a plastic little cup with a blue liquid inside. I guess this will be five? Six perhaps? "And one for," she squints her eyes as she scans the room. I turn around when her eyes abruptly stop and a grin starts forming itself on her face. "You know, I always wonder how she does it. It's like she looks at them and they throw themselves at her feet." Lucie curiously considers the scenery of Brooke intimately dancing with something I can only describe as a surf god.

Good gracious, you go girl.

"I think they can sense it." My eyes are stuck on the flirtations going on a couple of feet in front of us, but I can see Lucie's short blonde locks bobbing in affirmation in the corner of my eye. "Although, it's probably the package. Her wild curls confidently swinging around her like a goddess and her smokey eyes practically sending a message to their brain 'you want me, and you know it'." There is a silence between us filled with the drums of the next song.

"She makes it look so easy." My head turns to watch her puzzled expression and curiosity pulls a grin onto my face.

"Lucie Bennett." My playful voice makes her tear her eyes away from the scenery between our roommate and the lover she chose for tonight.

"What?" Her ocean eyes innocently look at me.

"If you're planning on having your first one-night stand, please tell me and I will happily choose the perfect candidate." I would be more than excited to be her wing woman. 99 percent because she deserves to know she can just as easily make every man in the room swoon over her, and one percent because it would be a thrilling distraction. One that is slightly more responsible than the booze in my hand.

"You're crazy." She huffs away my proposition, but something about the movement tells me she doesn't really mean it.

"I don't think I am." The redness of her cheeks contrasts the paleness of her skin indicating I'm heading in the right direction, yet she still shakes her head in denial. "Tell me." A chuckle leaves her lips as she shakes her head a second time before turning her gaze back to me.

"I don't know." Three words and I feel like the smirk on my face is as long as the wall of China. She throws a serious look in my direction to put my fantasies back on the ground. However, the hint of amusement and shyness in the center of her blue irises strengthens the excitement building up inside of me.

I clear my throat putting on my business face as if we're discussing world peace instead of her losing her V-card to a hot, steamy one-night-stand. "Go on."

"I want to get it over with, but I don't want to pick someone random." I nod, understanding perfectly what she is saying. I had my first time last year in my freshman year of university with Trent McConnell. We had gone on a couple of dates before anything happened and even though we were never something serious, I don't regret it because he wasn't someone random. I trusted him.

"Just go with the flow and see what happens." Her eyebrow quirks up in surprise. She cups my chin with her free hand putting her face right in front of mine, scanning my eyes.

"Who are you and where is my August?" Her head snaps to every corner in the room, her face a painting made from concern coated with a thick layer called the 'mocking my roomie' color.

I roll my eyes and laugh away the comment. "Ha. Ha. Funny."

"I was just checking because you're either sick, an imposter, or so drunk you completely lost all knowledge of who you are." She continues with fake concern radiating from her body, not giving in to the smile that is probably boiling up inside of her and I'm surprised because she normally is the first one in a staring contest to lose her composure bursting into a wave of giggles.

"How about none of the above?" I think. "Besides I'm not always tied to a schedule." The stare she gives me is worth more than a thousand words and I sigh giving in. "Fine, but you can't blame me for wanting some structure in my life. Having a plan is the beginning of achieving your goals." I defend myself, knowing that plans and schedules sound boring to 99 percent of the earth's population.

But I'm not boring. I can be fun. I do things that are not planned.

Do I regret them in the end because they always lead to me making stupid decisions? Yes.

Do they make me want to stick to my plans even more? Absolutely.

Do my schedules and plans exist to keep the impulsive alter ego inside of me in check? Abso-fucking-lutely.

But let's turn a blind eye to those three minor details.

"Well, here's my plan. You and me, dating these cute little shots, so that I don't have to date boys and you don't have to date all your busy schedules." She boops me on the nose before she raises her shot in the air. I meet her halfway to toast in agreement.

I start a new counting spree, however, I soon lose track again of the number of times I swung my head back to let the liquor fall into my throat. The number of times I burn away another cause of my stress.

The first one to go is the stress of keeping up with classes.

Another shot and the stress of being hungover fades away.

Another shot. Poof. Gone is the stress of missing track practice because I'm hungover.

Shot. Poof. The stress of finding a job.

Shot. Poof. The stress of bumping into him.

Shot. Poof. I don't know what else I can name except for the fact that maybe I should be concerned about how unable I am to walk in a straight line as I try to find Lucie in the crowd.

My eyes scan the room but the more I switch between my left and right, the more the room starts spinning. I abruptly stop and focus my eyes on the speaker in the distance, hoping the room would stop taking me on a rollercoaster. As I spread my arms a bit and blink a couple of times the feeling of being in the middle of a big sea storm slowly ebbs away.

I swiftly spin around heading for the kitchen to start my search party. The second I set a step forward, a sudden cold feeling hits my chest. As if someone used a garden hose to spray me wet. I jump back and bend over to minimalize whatever damage there might be. As soon as my eyes land on the red painting drenching my silk white top, they widen. Shit.

Shit, shit, shittyshitshit.

My gaze travels from my chest toward a big guy who's trying to apologize at least a hundred times over the loud music. His eyes dart around him. He grabs the first kind of fabric he can find and uses it as a peace offering. I thankfully accept and furiously start padding on the red wine stain between my breasts.

Bathroom. I need a bathroom. I might not be an expert in doing the laundry, but I know that red wine and white tops are definitely not best friends. I look up to meet a pair of sorry eyes. After I reassure him that it's nothing, I ask him if he knows where the bathroom is.

"Somewhere upstairs." I thank him as if his answer is the most specific, detailed route description I've ever gotten. Really, Google Maps is nothing compared to him.

I waltz my way upstairs without asking for further instructions because how big can this house be, right? WRONG. I laugh at myself as I observe the hallway. I point my finger to the first door.

Onetwothreefoufive? FIVE, no wait. Again. One, two, three, four, five, six. SIX different doors. Six? Seriously? I squint my eyes pointing forward to the doors and start singing the eeny meeny miny moe in my head. My index finger comes to a stop at the second door on the right and without a second thought, I march to it. I grab the doorknob but before I can twist it, it turns itself. The door swings open as if it had heard my demand. Only, I definitely do not have superpowers and I am definitely looking into a pair of confused eyes.

"Woops. 'xcuse me. Wrong door. But, I mean, not surprising because they all look similar, right?" I blurt out. Her confused expression shifts to a disgusted, confused expression.

Cue the crickets, please. And then, floor, please swallow me whole. About right now, thank you.

The girl blinks her confusion away before tugging her dress down, adjusting her breasts, and strolling past me to head back downstairs. My eyes then land on a blond-haired guy zipping up his jeans and I don't think I have ever spun around so quickly. I'm plastered against the wall, trying to regain my balance as the guy casually walks out. He curtly nods and I give him what I assume is the most forced wide-toothed smile I have ever created.

Awkward. So freakishly awkward.

As soon as his figure disappears from the hallway I resume my mission. I sing another eeny meeny miny moe in my head and move on to the second victim of the lullaby. The moment my fingers graze the doorknob, my breast vibrates. I swing out my phone from my bra and squint at the bright screen.

Luus: Whrrt azer yuou

I gather all my focus to type I'm in the bathroom. I know I'm not physically in the bathroom but I'm close by. Perhaps, she could show me if she knows. I press send and slide my phone back. My gaze halts at the sight of the red stain.

Good gracious, it looks like someone shot me in the chest. Maybe I should keep the shirt for Halloween. It'd be the perfect costume. A little bit of fake blood here and there and I- I stop my train of thought the moment I remember I'm not wearing my own shirt. I'm wearing Brooke's silk blouse. Which I assume wasn't cheap. Shit, I really need to find the bathroom. I skip the eeny meeny miny moe and charge at the door on the opposite side of the hall. My hand lands on the doorknob, twists it, and I swing the door open with confidence, believing in the superstition of the third try being my lucky charm. Believing it's the bathroom.

Only it isn't. It definitely isn't.

My eyes widen at the sight of his bottom lip between a random girl's teeth when his head snaps to me at the sound of the door flying open. My cheeks turn into the most colorful tomatoes and my chest suddenly carries the weight of a thousand knives. My heart freezes and I don't know how long it takes for it to start beating again, but once it does, it speeds up like a race car.

"Colin." I blink a few times trying to scramble the last few functioning brain cells to lead my legs out of this terrifically embarrassing situation. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt, I just had a little accident, you see," my hand gestures to my breasts and I immediately regret it when his eyes flicker down dumbfounded. I can't say I don't share the feeling, because, yes, I don't know why my mouth hasn't stopped moving either. "I've been trying to find the bathroom, but guess what, this house has a lot of doors." I laugh at myself, mentally screaming to shut the fuck up, but my mouth doesn't seem to notice the panic state my brain is currently in. "Anyway," I clap my hands together breaking the awkward silence that was making me sweat even more than I already was, "pretend I wasn't here. Carry on, you were doing great." The door slams shut behind me and my back hits the wood in defeat.

WHAT. THE-.

You were doing great? Seriously? Which freaking cave am I crawling out of?

Floor, now would be a great time to answer my request from earlier. Swallow me whole and erase me from this crash site. PLEASE.

With my eyes closed, I slide down the door, cursing human life for giving me the ability to speak when I'm drunk. We should invent a mute button for the human voice.

Talking bullshit? Mute.

Don't want to socialize? Mute with a little card saying: Sorry, my mute button is broken making it impossible to disable the mute function.

Drunk? Mute. Definitely mute. Absolutely, never been more certain in my life, mute. Press the mute button like a-

A tiny squeal leaves my mouth as my upper body falls to the ground. I look up at the blonde girl staring down at me, still holding open the door. "You should get that cleaned, sis." She says before stepping over me, gallantly walking back to the swarm of dancing bodies. My eyes slowly tear away from her beautiful waves swinging from one side to another and land on a pair of forest green eyes. A collision of colors you find when wandering through the forest at the beginning of autumn. A beautiful panel of nature. I might not be able to see his irises in the darkness but I know the beauty of them. And they're staring right down at me, raising the little hairs on the back of my neck and speeding up the tiny working machine inside my chest.

I sheepishly smile as I feel warmth coloring my cheeks. "Hi."

A grin forms itself on his face as he leans his shoulder against the doorframe. "Hi." His warm voice is coated with amusement. "Looks pretty cozy down there." A snort leaves my throat as I roll my eyes at him.

"Shut up."


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