Cheap Shots

00:28

UNEDITED

28.

         HALLOWEEN NIGHT

The whole situation was surreal to me, personally, and I was amazed our “friendship” had even advanced to the level of sharing a beat up bottle of liquor on his bedroom floor at sometime past considerable. 

            I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that it was meant to happen, we were supposed to be friends, but it might’ve been the multiple shots talking because I, Orion Smith, the realist, wasn’t going to believe in something that was meant for fool’s to hold on too.

            “We already played the question game,” I moaned to Beckett, taking another swig of the bottle as my shoulders involuntarily swayed to the slightly fast paced beat of the old alternative song. 

            He shrugged, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room.  “So why not play it again?”

            “That’s lame,” I told him, reaching for the bottle only to have him snatch it out of my hands.

            “You sure do drink a lot for a small girl.”  He commented, tormenting me by taking another sip himself.

        I rolled my eyes; “I’m not an alcoholic, if that’s what you’re implying.”

        Beckett held his hands up in surrender.  “I wasn’t implying anything!”  The silly grin plastered on his face spoke otherwise.

        I just ignored his comment, clumsily attempting to reach for the bottle again.  “Think of a new game.”

        “Like what?”  He grinned softly when he realized I wasn’t going to be able to grab the bottle from him, the liquor affecting me more than I had initially thought it did.  Why did I drink so much?

        “I don’t know!”  He said loudly, gulping down another large sip of the disgusting crap.  “I’m not good with thinking up games!  All I know is, like, truth or dare, never have I ever, and suck and blow.”

        “Well all of those games require three people at least.  Pick something else.”

        Frowning again, Beckett turned away from me and stared off into the distance.  “How drunk are you right now?”  He asked me.

        “Probably won’t remember any of this in the morning,” I assured him.

        “Okay.”  Turning back towards me, he took another gulp.  “Since we have zero creativity-“

        “Hey!”

        He ignored my interruption.  “-Between the two of us, I’m going to tell you a story.”

        I quirked an eyebrow, still eyeing the bottle in his hands that was sporadically being lifted up to his pink lips.  It wasn’t even that I wanted a drink now, okay, that was partially a lie, but the fact that I wanted to take it from him.  “Go ahead with your story, I’ll judge.”

        He shook his head, a grin still present on his lips.  “Okay.  So once upon a tim-“

        “Lame,” I told him, “You can’t start a story like that.  It’s so cliché.”