How Dare You [ReidxReader] - 2nd Edition

(9) Takeoff

TW: explicit description of drug use

ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ

In the follow days, it gets more and more difficult to leave your bed in the morning. Just opening your eyes and sitting up is exhausting. Hotchner is still getting on your nerves, micro-managing every move you make. Your newfound jealousy of JJ is gnawing on you, and lastly, and probably most importantly: you're confused about Reid. What makes it worse, is that you are not even sure what exactly you are confused about. You like him. You like to spend time with him. According to him, he likes it too.

But you cannot shake it. It's like a thorn driven deep into your heart.

You really try to keep it together. You really try.

You make until Thursday evening. Then you just give up.

After sitting on your sofa for solid thirty minutes, staring at the wall, you decide to get fucked up.

You throw yourself off the wagon. You change into a short dress. Searching in your dresser, you look for your sock with coke in it. You call yourself an uber and make a neat line on the kitchen counter. After downing a generous shot of vodka, you bow down and snort it all up. You only take your keys with you, pushing them into the side of your bra. You do not want to be traceable.

In the uber you start to fidget. Constantly bouncing your leg and tapping your fingers on the window. You paid the uber in advance and get out without another word. The doorman of the club merely looks at you and lets you in immediately.

It feels like you made it from your apartment to the dancefloor in mere seconds. You're high out of your mind and already lost all track of time. You feel the loud music echo in your chest, ricocheting off your ribs. The strobe lights mess with your sense of orientation even more and you just let yourself be pushed around by the other people surrounding you.

Eventually, realistically it might have been an hour or two, you get incredibly thirsty all of a sudden and turn around to get to the bar; just to find a guy right in front of you. Blond, easy on the eyes, smiling at you. Your eye twitches when the cruel thought of wishing it were Reid shoots through your head. Ignoring it, you put your arm around his neck and dance with him for a bit.

Soon, he guides you to the bar, holding your hand, and orders shots.

"Nick." He introduces himself.

"Emily." You yell back and shake his hand. Nick grins at you and pays the bartender. You take both shots and down them. Stunned, he stares at you.

"Oh, those weren't for me?" You're not sure if you slur the words or not. You can barely focus, let alone hear yourself talk.

But he just lets out a laugh and orders more.

When Nick wants to dance again, you follow him. On the dancefloor, you sway around, touching his shoulders now and then. Your brain is totally overwhelmed with all the substances you used and the stimulus satiation of your surroundings. You are barely able to form a coherent thought. Just like you wanted it.

Suddenly, however, someone grabs your waist and lets their hands wander all over your back. No matter how intoxicated you are, the alarm bells going off in your head will always be louder. Deafening.

You turn around and immediately punch them in the face. Hard.

The guy stumbles back. Holding his cheek, he shouts: "Crazy bitch!"