Dude, I Kissed Your Mom! (DISCONTINUED)

23.💋

When you're high, everything around you seems...magical!

The walls are breathing, boasting with purple and pink glittery showers on their surface and the ground feels like marshmallow, if that makes any sense. Of course, it doesn't , taking it in retrospect seeing as I am stoned right now and my visual imagery in this current state might not be any way sensible.

But here I am, recovering from that highly coveted state by any addict undergoing drug withdrawals, as I gulp down as much water to get rid of this cotton-y feeling inside my mouth.

Two tall glasses of water down.

Everything is still, the sound of the quiet kitchen providing the perfect ambience to any horror movie. I hate that I'm standing right here, alone, in the dark and the paranoid soul inside my body is begging for me to just bolt back upstairs and hide under my bulky beddings because it swears it heard something rustling outside the kitchen window.

I don't do that , though. I'm not really scared of the darkness. Nobody likes the dark, I mean , who in the hell does? Probably Charli. In fact, the 'dark' was the least of my worries. My mind is heavily preoccupied with the conversation I had with Amanda.

I can't shake it off, can't tune it out, believe me , I've tried. The drive home with Zac, I had my headphones on , blasting some hard rock music and when I got home I had this splitting head ache from the prolonged exposure to the deafening music. Maybe that's why doctors don't recommend excessive usage of earphones and headphones. Who am I to listen , anyway?

Even after chugging down a cocktail of painkillers , the headache persistently clung by , rattling my brain around my head and still the conversation lingered.

Regrettably, I replayed it like a fucking cassette tape , ripping it apart, bisecting it until all that was left in my conscience was fragments of it. She , rightfully, accused me of doing drugs and what did I do instead? I brought up the private conversation she had with mom when I was busy eavesdropping .

" I heard what you said to my mom, you know,"

" Oh yeah? And what is that?"

" How you're struggling..."

" Everyone struggles from time to time, so why is this such a huge deal to you?"

" But yours is a unique kind of struggle though , isn't it?"

" Speak plainly, I don't have the time to play 'guess' with you,"

" You were telling her how you are having trouble pleasuring yourself, how you need a man to fuck you. Hard." A step towards her ." And," Another step ." Fast," I'm left standing so close to her , our fronts touching, her back connected to the wall behind her and she looked bewildered by my accusations, bosomed chest rising and falling roughly with each ragged breathe she sucked in through her gritted teeth.

" Go ahead, " My eyes zeroed in on her plump lips , red like the freshly harvested strawberries. "Tell me I'm wrong or that I'm lying."

Her lips are moving but no coherent speech is produced from her, too stunned to vocalize any sound, too shocked to think of any refutable claim to what I had just thrown to her.

I was high, too high , when my hands rested above her head, caging her in as I intimidated her with my stabbing gaze, watching her momentarily crumble, still mentally searching her mind for something to say. I liked the way she smelled , always have and I was slightly aroused when I saw how vulnerable she was, still wearing the drenched shirt after my search for an extra one inside my locker proved unsuccessful.

It'll dry off through the warmth of her skin, I kept telling myself, but standing like this next to her, so close , our bodies would fuse, I hoped that it wouldn't.