Faster Than Your Bullets

Chapter 16

ooh i really like this one

 Chapter 16

"We kinda, what, slept together."

Holy fucking mother of somefuckingthing absofuckinglutely insane.

I wail and bury my face into my pillow, fisting my blanket repeatedly, ignoring the pain that bangs inside my head with every movement.

Over my shoulders I feel Peter's arm tightly wrapped, one of his hands rubbing up and down my forearm as if soothing me.

Well, it isn't.

"Hey," He's trying to cheer the situation up. "Hey. It's not that bad. Andrea. Hey." Up and down my arm. It's growing worse by the seconds. I snap my head up and look into his eyes, hoping my half-sober glare is intimidating enough.

"It is that bad, Pete. You have a fucking girlfriend!" I sit straight up, shake his hand off me then start tumbling through the mess of sheet and blankets to get off the bed. Peter's eyes once glued to my face are now roaming my body, his brows slightly arched up with clear interest. Only then does it occur to me that I'm in my underwear, so, fuming, I grab a shirt on the clothes hanger and put it on, trying to make my anger obvious. Apparently I am failing, since the little fucker just sits incredibly still on the bed and smiles to himself like the moron he is. Finally, he opens his mouth.

"It's not what you think–"

"Oh, it isn't?" His voice is drowned in mine, which has gotten remarkably louder compared to thirty seconds ago.

Peter holds up a hand: "Andrea, listen." He taps his temple. "It's coming back now. Sit down and hear the whole thing before you, I dunno, blow my head off or something."

I snort. "As much as I hate your bitch of a girlfriend, I'm not a cheater's whore, Pete. And yeah, I would most probably blow your fucking head off."

Peter's eyes a little wider at my aggression. However, he ignores the rude comment about Scarlett. Now he hold up both hands and waves them in front of his face very awkwardly while spluttering an unconvincing repeating chain of Just listen's.

I fold my arms and narrow my eyes. "Speak."

Looking relieved, Peter laces his hands together and puts them under his chin then speaks very slowly as if carefully selecting words.

"After the party last night, you were...how to put it...very drunk. You also witnessed me and Scarlett fighting." His eyes bore into mine, focusing, searching. For what? "We kinda...broke up."

I can feel my anger withering away as fast as it came, replaced by an instinctive sense of curiosity. It seems like Peter can sense it, because he gains back his confidence the next moment.

"Anyways, you were acting really weird, so I suggested going home. I drove you back and you were...like I said, odd." He shrugs. Odd? How odd? What kind of odd behavior did I show? Because drunk Andrea can do a fucking lot of really odd things, and they aren't close to good.

"What did I do?" I snap at him without the intention to. Peter jumps a little.

"You– you kept telling me to stay and..." Oh, no. I hide my face behind my hands, "touching me and..." Oh, no. My face sinks lower. "I was a little tipsy too, you know. And we kinda...made out." He chuckles. "You were, like, super horny."

I ask him what is that supposed to mean. We sit on the bed, him talking and me listening for half an hour.

"So I laid you down on the bed. You were muttering something, I dunno, but you just wouldn't stop. Then I sat on your bed and you sat up, too. I don't exactly remember the order of things, but let's just say you kept touching and kissing me, not that I complain about any of that. You said you need a favor, you know, like...almost two years ago... Anyways, I told you to go to sleep but then you started telling me something about me breaking up with Scarlett and that I was an idiot. It was...weird, actually. Then we made out. You started it. And you kinda tore my clothes away so...yeah. And then we...you know the rest of the story." Peter sighs, standing up from my bed and calmly puts his clothes back on. Underwear. Blue jeans. White T-shirt in a terrible state. That must be my fault. I lie back down on the bed, pressing my cheek to the fabric of the pillow and close my eyes. Peter's hand touches my shoulder. His mouth is close to my ear when he speaks.