S N O R T E D
3:10 a.m.
5th December 2015
Her head swarmed with drunkenness, a tipsy giggle escaped her mouth. The taste of the cheap liquor was still in her mouth as she stumbled up the stairs. Her hand clutched the beer bottle's neck loosely. Midnight hair slick with sweat due to the humidity at the party, stuck against her neck.
It was tough to believe it was December in Manhattan with how hot she felt.
A tipsy giggle escaped her mouth, her vision blurred. Rory leaned against the railing as she had raised the beer bottle again and took another gulp from it. She liked the bitter taste. It was pleasant in its own twisted way. Her movements seemed sluggish as she traveled up the stairs to the flat, tripping here and there when suddenly he called.
"Rory, what are you doing?" He called out. She knew who he was, the very person whom she was avoiding. She couldn't bear to see him after her dream. She felt awkward; scared she would fuck someone else's life in her life, by just being her. So she ran away to the party instead of going to the roof. She would let him have it if it meant not seeing him.
If it meant she was saving herself;
Her heart had panged with sadness then. But now with the alcohol clouding her judgments, all she could do was spin on her toes and smile. Her heart fluttered when she took in his haggard looks. White hair messed up as if he had ran his hand through them one too many times. Freckles splattered across his flushed cheek. He looked nice.
"Pretty Boy," She exclaimed, laughter was bubbling out of her as she walked towards him, her movements still retaining their sluggishness, her heels now aching.
"Whoa, Rory," Sebastian exclaimed as he watched her trip on the floor, and caught her. Her cheeks were flushed, and mascara ran down them, she was a mess.
"Hey, Pretty Boy, you caught me," She giggled. Her eyes lighting up in a way Sebastian had never seen before. It had left him mystified; he had never mystified by anyone, let alone by a barely acquainted stranger. Why did she keep doing it to him?
How many facades does she have? He wondered; his heartbeat quickened when she laid her head against his chest. He felt warm.
"What are you doing at this time, Rory?" His voice tinged with disapproval. It was late.
"Drinking," She slurred, her face splitting into a drunken grin as she gazed at him, "I like your eyes, Pretty Boy, they are so green." She poked him as her nose wrinkled; eyes dancing with mischief. The grip on her bottle loosed.
"Are you drunk, Rory?" He questioned incredulously, already knowing it was a silly question before he blurted it out. Of course she was drunk; why else would Rory Sandsburg be leaning on him and telling him that she liked his eyes.
"Yes, Pretty Boy, you sure are slow. Being drunk is so fun. You should try it," She rambled before she chugged the vodka bottle and threw it against the wall. The glass broke into many shards, falling in different direction.
Sebastian gasped in horror while Rory giggled.
"Wasn't that pretty, Pretty Boy?" She said, continuing excitedly, "Get it? You get the pun, right?"
YOU ARE READING
Roofies
Short Story"People who share the same roof are called Roofies. Singular form: Roofy," She did a small nod at the end as if approving her logic. "You do know it's a drug, right," He questioned, perplexed with her need to give them a name. They were barely ac...
