Chapter 10: Officially Tipsy

280 7 0
                                    

Well, I'm officially tipsy. As I wait in line for the bathroom (it's taking a while because God knows what people are currently doing in there), I have to lean back against the wall to stop myself from swaying. I lost track of how many cups of beer I drank when Carly and I played beer pong. Plus, I had that drink Gavin gave me when I arrived.

What seems like an eternity later, it's finally my turn for the bathroom. The door opens to admit a glassy-eyed girl, who stumbles past me into the hallway. Tentatively, I walk inside, relieved that no one has gotten sick.

Once I'm done, I wander back out into the house, looking for a familiar face. However, there are so many people here that after several minutes of looking, I still can't find any of my friends. I make my way through the kitchen back out into the hall and then up a flight of stairs, randomly pulling open a door. It's not my smartest move because this could be an occupied bedroom, but I'm too tipsy to care.

It turns out that this is not a bedroom in use (thank God). It's a den with a large TV and what looks like a balcony with a spectacular view. Large TV posters cover the walls behind the couch, but I barely notice them because seated on that couch across the room is none other than River St. Claire.  He glances up at the sound of my entrance, and I freeze, still standing in the doorway. River looks at me over, smirking at my appearance, beer can in hand.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to knock?" River demands, downing his drink and standing. Already tipsy and off balance, I find him even more intimidating than normal.

"S-sorry," I stammer and turn to leave. The movement makes my head spin, and I lurch sideways, arms out like an idiot, hoping not to smack my face into the wall. River is in front of me instantly, his strong hands gripping my arms. He's keeping me upright and making sure to do so while staying out of my personal space as much as possible, but we're still quite close. Even though it's only my arms he's touching, I'm acutely aware of his hands on my skin. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding as we stare at each other in surprise, his green eyes appraising me.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" He asks, voice full of judgment, but I get the feeling my intoxicated state isn't what is irking him.

"So are you," I snap back at him, yanking my arms out of his grasp. A move I instantly regret when I sway again. River takes hold of my left arm and steers me over to the couch. I plop down onto it as he takes a seat across from me.

"I can hold my liquor. You clearly can't," River states. My cheeks burn because he's obviously right.

"Are you ever not an asshole?" I ask him, and to my great surprise, he laughs. Not a condescending laugh either, a real one. The effect he has on me is like a month to a flame. Irrationally, I want to get closer to him. My conscious mind is screaming that this is a bad idea and he's not good for me, but my drunk brain overrides this and propels me to lean forward toward him. To my great surprise, this time, he doesn't move away.

"Well, aren't you a real firecracker," he says. "Do you talk to everyone like this or just me?"   

"Only people who go out of their way to be obnoxious for no reason, like yourself," I inform him. I'm pleased that I'm coherent enough not to slur.

"I guess that's fair," River says, shocking me again. A laugh, and now he's agreeing with me?

"Um, I'm sorry. Did you just agree with me that you've been a jerk? Are you okay? Are you dying? Do I need to take you to a hospital?" I ask, looking at him with mock concern.

Instead of answering me, he rolls his eyes and then stands to walk to the bar, where he makes himself another drink and pulls out a six-pack of soda.

"You should drink something besides alcohol," he says, grabbing a soda for me and walking back to the couch. 

Eastwood AcademyWhere stories live. Discover now