romeo + juliet ↠ l.h

37

The first time I got drunk I was 15.

Michael had found a bottle of red wine his mom threw away because it was 'too sweet', and we soon discovered that wine was just adult cranberry juice. We were obsessed.

After the bottle was finished, we texted everyone we knew to see if we could find more.

We needed more. The simple buzz in our heads wasn't enough.

At last, a friend of a friend's older brother agreed. He'd get us more wine. We'd give him cash. It was a win-win.

Michael and I waited by my front door, pacing around as Queen blared from my basement, where we had camped out for the night.

We were both starting our sophomore year, and we knew we'd be moved to a new hallway. A hallway with upperclassmen. I was terrified, but Michael reassured me. He reassured me until his words become tangled into my brain and I no longer felt nervous.

But getting drunk was our rite of passage. We didn't consider ourselves 'cool' until we'd done it.

The doorbell had rung, and a random boy, or rather man, appeared with a brown sack in hand.

"Hi!" I giggled tipsily, and I had no idea what I was doing.

Michael quickly took over, pulling out the fifty dollar bill we planned to give him. We had no idea how much wine cost, and I now know that we paid him way too much for a bottle of Barefoot Pinot.

"Thanks, man." he reached out his hand and made the exchange, while the man had yet to speak.

"No problem. I got some more shooters in my car if you want to join me." he was speaking to both of us but looking at me. "I can take you to this bar down-"

"Ah, we're good man. Is fifty enough?" Michael cut him off. This man looked at least 22, so why did he want to hang out with kids who couldn't even drive?

"Let me take your girl on a ride in my Benz and we'll call it even." he still stood in the doorway as he unsubtly winked at me.

"She's fifteen, you sick fuck." Michael attempted to close the door, but the man stopped it with his hand.

"She doesn't look fifteen." he spoke, but before he could take a step inside Michael swung his fist upwards, making contact with the man's nose.

He fell backwards, blood pooling through his fingers, as Michael slammed the door and locked it. We both burst into a fit of drunk giggles, unable to process what exactly just happened.

"He thought we were dating. How disgusting!" I exclaimed.

"That's the part you find gross? He was a creep!" Michael paused to examine his hand, "And now my knuckles are bruised."

"Follow me," I reached for his forearm as I chugged the wine with my other hand, "I'll help you ice it."

That was my first experience healing bruised knuckles. I thought it would be a one time thing. I was wrong.

Since my utterly confusing and electric night in the bathroom with Luke, I hadn't heard from him.

Five days. Five entire days of me living four blocks away. Five days for a chance to get my phone number. A chance to find me on campus.

But nothing.

I'd retreated to my dorm room every night like it was my own dungeon. I left only to attend class, which proved harder on some days than other. I looked for Luke in every face I passed as I walked across campus.

I was back to the old me. The girl I was when Luke left, only this time it was much worse. My optimism was pessimism, my hope was disappointment, and my love was a fiery confusion of hatred and guilt.