Letters to Adonis

Chapter:: Thirteen

Dear Adonis,

I guess every teenager should be allowed one stupid thing when their parents are gone. I think we were just making bank on ours together a couple nights after our small fight. We were sitting around cuddled on my bed and we had just finished our fourth movie in a row. I was restless, wanting to get up and go do something but knowing there was nothing to do unless you had money, which I didn’t.

“Does your dad have a liquor cabinet?” you ask me, and the thought hadn’t occurred to me before. I shrug.

“There’s nothing wrong with checking,” we get up and investigate, looking high and low for a small cabinet that was next to the pantry. Rum, whiskey, and moonshine were front row along with two other rows of alcohol. I was assuming that this was the hardcore stuff. “I have coke. Let’s make a drink.”

I didn’t stop to think ‘whoa maybe I shouldn’t do this’ since I’m taking about six different pills every day. I didn’t wonder about side effects, I just wanted a semi-normal teen experience and breaking into my dad’s stash seemed perfect enough.

“Sounds good,” you smile and go to my fridge to get the coke. I go on the tips of my toes to get a cup, knowing you won’t have a problem with sharing. Not wanting to get shitfaced, I mentally limit us to share one drink.

I fill the cup halfway with rum and you pour a can of coke to fill the rest of the cup. I bring it to my lips and take a sip. “I think it tastes okay, what do you think?” I pass you the cup and start to walk towards the stairs, knowing you’ll be behind me.

“Tastes pretty good, although I don’t know what I’m supposed to be comparing it to.” You chuckle a little bit and I laugh as I lay back on my bed, you had me the cup before you get comfy next to me. You wrap your arm around my shoulder and our legs cross at the ankles.

“Yeah, I know right.” I agree as I hand the cup back to you. You take a sip and hand it back to me, which I take a big gulp.

“Whoa, slow down there. What if I can’t keep up?” you tease, bumping my shoulder. I shake my head and bump you back. We both know you could out drink me any day and that you were just being funny.

I let you have two more sips before I chug the rest. My excuse, “I was thirsty.” I try not to look embarrassed and I get up to check and see if there’s another movie worth watching. When I get up, the room tilts a little bit before correcting itself too quickly. I stumble a little bit and you laugh a little.

“I don’t think that was enough to get you tipsy, even the way you were chugging it.” It sounds like you’re a room and a half away and I grab my dresser.

“Something’s wrong,” I rub my stomach because it starts to hurt. I have the sensation I get right before I throw up and I run to the bathroom quickly. When I get there, I fall to my knees and start throwing up, luckily, in the toilet.

“Usually people drink about twelve of what you had to even get a little tipsy. What’s wrong?” you ask as you come into the bathroom and hold back my hair. I could’ve hugged you then, except that I felt sickly and like I had a fever.

“I don’t know, but I feel like crap,” I tell you as I walk slowly back to my bed and lay on it after quickly brushing my teeth. You sit down next to me and start rubbing circles on my back. “Maybe if I don’t move for a while I’ll be okay.”

“Do you want me to put on a movie and you can secretly fall asleep while I’m laughing at the funny parts?” you ask me and I couldn’t think of a better thing to do.

“Sounds good,” I whisper. I don’t have a headache, but I feel like I’m passing out. Which is totally ridiculous, but I take it in stride. “Maybe it was the meds,” I conclude.

“What meds? Oh, wait. That could actually be the reason,” I hear you say as you switch out Grown Ups and put in Happy Gilmore, it’s a night filled with Adam Sandler. I don’t say anything as you settle next to me with your back to the wall. I see the television light up your face. Your dimpled cheek, your black messy hair, and your bright eyes. You catch me looking, and you manage a quick wink because you click play on the menu.

I’m still lying on my stomach, afraid that if I move it’ll send me running back to the bathroom. “You know, this is kind of perfect. I wish I had a camera.”

You look at me casually, as if I just said what the time was instead of telling you that the perfect moment is the way the light hits your face to show your strong jaw, and that the moon outside had nothing to do with it.

“I wish I had one too,” you start, picking up the remote and pressing pause. “I’d turn it into the newspaper and call it ‘the prettiest girl in California.’” I try to laugh, or get ready to lift up my arm and playfully hit your shoulder. But instead I smile, because that’s probably one of the sweetest things somebody has ever said to me. I turn on my side slowly, almost sighing in relief as my stomach has seemed to calm down. I grab the front of your dark t-shirt and pull it towards me, pulling you closer and closer until our lips touch.

You pull away a little bit, but I want more so I pull you closer and move my lips on yours. I can feel the smile on your lips, and when I’m done kissing you softly, I let you lean against the wall again. “You know, you’re a pretty smooth talker.”

“I know I am,” and that’s part of why you have my heart.

Love, Ariel