Taking Control

Chapter 2

"Every artist was at first an amateur."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Chapter 2

Jason's house was destroyed. The guys on the soccer team must have invited literally every person they had ever met, because the place was packed. Two hundred sweaty intoxicated bodies were smashed inside his living room and basement, fighting for a spot in the front of the line at the keg. At least the boys only bought one; hopefully it would get kicked early and the underage drunks would go home.

House parties suck. There's always at least one asshole who breaks something expensive, something always ends up stolen, someone's bedroom gets smoked up and smells like weed, and you're the luckiest bastard alive if there's puke in a sink instead of the couch. People don't know how to hold their shit together.

Annoyed with the rambunctious guests trashing the house, I shoved my way through the sweaty sea of people to the kitchen. Yeah, it wasn't my house, but I always ended up having to clean. Boys don't know how to use a mop, so I had do it the next day.

I pushed myself up and sat on the counter, not caring that I was probably sitting in about an inch of dried alcohol. The Captain Jack bottle that sat next to me was too tempting to pass up, and I poured a few shots in to my empty cup. I was a few over my limit but it was still early; I definitely wasn't going to quit now.

"Save some for the other alcoholics, will you?"

Startled, I looked up to see my boyfriend's roommate, Mark. He was on the soccer team with Jason.

"Marky Mark! Sorry, but I think the other alcoholics have had enough."

"How many shots have you even had?"

"Um..." I hesitated, attempting to count. "Ten-ish, maybe? I don't know."

"Well I gotta catch up then!" He said, while reaching into the fridge to pull out another beer. I crinkled my nose. I hated that stuff. Hard liquor was definitely better. It didn't taste like piss and could actually get me drunk. Beer just made me bloated.

"Ugh, how do you drink that yucky shit? It doesn't even get you drunk, it's too fuzzy."

"Fuzzy?"

"Fizzy! Ah!" I giggled loudly. Yup, I'm definitely drunk.

He laughed. "Well at least it doesn't give you alcohol poisoning."

"I'd take alcohol poisoning over piss water, any day. I'd rather not have a beer gut."

"Well I'm safe there. Coach works us too hard to let me get a beer belly."

"Sucks. How was practice today?"

"Oh god, it was awful."

"What was awful?" Jason's voice interrupted as he walked into the kitchen.

"Your practice today." I answered as he strolled up and leaned his tall frame against the counter next to me. He was tall with broad shoulders, so with me sitting on the counter we were about the same height.

"Yeah, it fucking sucked. Our coach is a total asshole."

"Aw I'm sorry babe!" I gave a him a big kiss. "Marky, do you want a sympathy kiss too?" I wasn't flirting; my drunk self just didn't want Mark to feel left out. Mark just laughed and walked away, but I guess Jason didn't think it was all that cute.

"Ok, Scarlett. I think you've had enough." Jason stated, taking the cup out of my hand.

"No way! Give it back."