Letting You Go Was The Hardest Thing

Letting you go was the hardest thing - Chapter Two

Letting you go was the hardest thing

Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved

Chapter Two

Picture on the side is Mike (Model Bartolomeo Fasano)

"Tooo theee window! To theee wall! To the sssssweat drop down my ballssss! To all you bitchessss crawl! To all skee skee motherfu--oops!" then giggled when lost my footing.

"Oh god," Mike groaned, very frustrated as he righted me up again. We continued to walk through the deserted hallway, heading for my apartment.

I continued rapping and added a little of my own version, something along the lines of doing body shots with Brad Pitt.

He rolled his eyes. "Jeez, will you stop rapping that crap?" he muttered, still holding my waist, making sure he had a tight hold on it. My arm was slung over Mike's neck for dear life and at the drunken state that I am in, I was pass piss drunk and could barely even stand straight. If anything, from the look on Mike's face right now, his scowl was directed to my rapping, which sounded like a cat being drowned.

After graduation, Mike and I decided to grab a quick bite at some Italian restaurant and then head for the club from downtown Los Angeles, in a haste to drown my so-called effed life with Vodka and a couple shots of Jose Cuervo. Even though I threw caution in the wind, the news of Dalton and Caroline's engagement still echoed in my head, taunting the life out of me. Drink after drink, the pain wouldn't go away; that tight  grip squeezing in my heart made me so angry with myself and I thought, when was this going to end?

What happened to good karma?

Was this my punishment for being selfless? For letting Dalton go just because I was scared for Caroline's insecurity and self-harm issues?

If it was, then, someone up there must be playing mind games on me right now.

"Remind me to hide The Proposal DVD," Mike muttered. "You watch that crappy movie like it's on repeat and that fugly Ryan Reynolds dude is getting on my nerves."

I gasped in disbelief and slapped his forehead with my free hand, making him wince from the impact. How could he?! No one disses that movie, especially if Ryan Reynolds was in it! That boy had one fine piece of ass and I could definitely tap that. Woo momma, I'm on fire!

"You're jealous that Ryan Reynolds is hotter than you," I said, trying to glare fiery holes into his brown eyes, but failing epically. "Face it, the boy has a body to die forrr."

He scoffed. "That's impossible. The dude is all fake - his abs look fake."

I snorted. "Please, he's freaking au naturelle, you douche."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said and then he stopped walking, the sudden jerk making my head reel like crazy, which had me groaning. "Oops, sorry," he apologized with a sheepish look on his face. "We're here."

"I think I'm going to puke," I said, my head spinning in circles. Wow, are those stars from the galaxy I'm seeing right now?

He held out his hand. "Give me your keys."

Blinking profusely from my drunken haze, I dug my key from my pocket. I  handed it to him and slump my head on his shoulders. "Ugh," I groaned. "I am never going to drink again."

He chuckled. "And to think I was the one who suggested this."

"You got that right," I muttered then looked up, frowning. "How come you don't look like you're not plastered?"