During the Thunderstorm (Natural Disaster) ✔

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ally was making bad decisions.

It began when she accepted a fruity punch from a girl from one of her classes.

"Ally, hey!" Miranda was tipsy by then, swinging from side to side. She was carrying a red cup in one hand but from the shaking, it was clear she had spilled most of the drink and the cup was empty by now.

Ally involuntarily raised one foot, feeling the sticky floor.

"How are you?" Miranda clung her arm around Ally's and carried her away. It appeared Ally was on purchase duty tonight.

Not very good lately. I'm kind of getting worried about my addiction to my phone because I can't look away from it. I also can't look away from everyone's biceps and compare every single one of them. How lean they look, how strong and comfortable they could be. None of them can compete with Federico's. Oh, and I had a dirty dream about him too. Is that normal?

"I'm good," She lied because she still needed a few drinks before she divulged the truth.

"That's great," Miranda said as they reached the kitchen. The only place with a terrible blue light.

Ally frowned at it. Who put that light there? Were they trying to get people blind by it?

"Here, you should try this. I came up with this cocktail on my 21st birthday and it is so good," Miranda went on and slid a cup toward Ally.

She eyed it and didn't have the heart to tell her it didn't look good. It looked like tea, which was disgusting. But the thought of tea made her think of Federico. And Allegra was on duty not to think about him, so she took a large gulp to distract herself.

She cringed.

It tasted as bad as tea.

"What do you think?" Miranda asked with sparks in her eyes.

Ally gestured with her hands delicious, marvelous, unable to open her mouth. She'd puke otherwise.

With a forced smile, Ally nodded.

Miranda squealed and suggested a toast and finished it in a couple of sips. Ally couldn't do much at that point. On the second gulp, it wasn't so bad. By the end of the second cup, if you tasted closely—really, really close, it was likely it'd developed a new flavor—it had a tinged of raspberry.

And thus, the beginning of bad decisions started.

When good music started playing, Ally had the great idea of dancing. And even drunk she knew she sucked, however, who couldn't not dance to these songs? Criminal.

When she twirled, she collided against someone, staggered, and fell to the ground. Over her ankle. This was the reason she shouldn't dance, however again, criminal not to do so.

Her ankle hurt a bit, which in pain level while drunk meant she had twisted it badly. And it would hurt a lot tomorrow. But she'd have to worry about it later.

She needed to worry about not getting stomped over for now and not dying.

With the grace of a whale, she clambered to her feet and limped to a sofa.

In all seriousness, someone should have stopped her by then. The threshold for bad decisions was over. But all her friends were mingling somewhere. So, without prying eyes to judge her, Allegra proceeded with the terrible choices. Which in her defense, she thought were spectacularly good ideas at the time.

She fished for her phone, unlocked it after five attempts, and headed to her messages. To reread her exchange with Federico. And to ogle at his biceps because there was nothing similar to his.