The Ground Below

Chapter Eighteen

The last time I drank a drop of alcohol was the wine at my brother’s wedding.  In a set of twisted events, I’m sitting on this raggedy couch with a beer in my hand.  Beer taste like piss, or what you’d imagine piss taste like.

When Karter told me he planned on taking me to a show his band was playing, I didn’t expect to end up here in this run down house afterwards drinking while watching him flirt with some tall brunette with a too tight mini skirt, and extreme muffin top.  I cringe at the thought of him being attracted to her.

Of course I know guys, and I know that her muffin top doesn’t matter after a few beers plus a shot of vodka.  Back in Chandler’s wild days, he always said, “I never went to bed with an ugly woman, but I sure as hell woke up to a few.”  I think he got that somewhere else, but I always laughed whenever he mentioned it.

Bands sometimes attend after parties, this I knew.  But now, I’m flaming mad, because I’m stuck at an after party watching that asshole flirt with that skank, while I’m on this nasty couch drinking nasty beer.

“Relax, Parker.  Have fun.”  That’s what he said to me when we got here.  So much fun I’m having here.

Wait!  You know what?  I’m going to have fun.  Screw him, and screw my opinion of this place, because I’m young, and I’m going to enjoy this experience.

“Live every moment like it’s your last.”  Grammy said that, but I’m sure a lot of other people say that too.  I’m not sure she meant drinking alcohol in a condemned house was the idea, but it’ll have to do.

In the kitchen I find Joe, and he pours me a couple shots.  As they burn their way down my throat, I feel a new sense of excitement.  This is what I missed out on in my college years.  Time to make up for lost time.

I grab more shots, and start swaying to the crazy music.  I run the two feet back to the living room, and squeal in laughter.  My feet swing in the air, because Buddy has thrown me over his shoulder.  He’s wobbling a bit so he must be pretty drunk.

“Put me down, Buddy,” I try to sound serious, but I cackle even more.

“Are you having fun yet?” he asks before placing me on my feet.  I laugh again telling him, “you know it.”

But then, I look over to the door and see Karter smiling.  Why is he smiling?

The brunette is gone replaced by a short blonde.  I hate females.

And I hate Karter.  But, I love him.  I sway as I start to make my way over to him, but an arm wraps around my waste.  “Whoa there.”

There must have been a look of determination on my face, but it quickly burned out when Buddy stopped me.  “Why can’t he like me?” I say.

Buddy doesn’t reply, and I bring my attention back to him.  He’s cute, a little weird, but cute.  My smile widens, and I let him know that he’s in fact cute.

He smiles back, and I laugh. I wonder what it’d be like to kiss Buddy, so I do.  He doesn’t respond at first as if he’s confused, but then his tongue is in my mouth.  His lips are soft, but I imagine Karter’s would be better.  Karter’s would be kind of rough, but soft at the same time.

He pulls back, and furrows his brows.  “But, Karter…”

“Who cares about Karter,” I respond, but I care about Karter.  I also have the urge to piss him off.  Looking over to the door, I don’t see him.

Buddy shakes his head in what looks like disappointment.  “I can’t do that to my friend.  I’m not that drunk.”

And neither am I.  I look down at the stained floor, and frown.  This isn’t me.  I would never let a guy affect me this way, and jump into the arms of his best friend.

Shamefully, I nod.  “I just want to go home now.”

“I’ll take you home.”  My attention comes back to Buddy, but I soon realize he wasn’t the one who spoke.  Karter stood behind him, but as much as I tried to read his expression, he was impassive.

I don’t know if it is the alcohol, or hormones, or what, but in that moment, I felt like crying.  None of us drove here after the show, so when he removed his phone, I knew that he was calling for a cab.