What It's Like Loving an Idiot

Seven || Everything is Okay

Drunk people. Aren't they just the most hilarious people in the world? The idea of a person being able to do the craziest and most ridiculous things 0intoxicated is quite funny. Like Grant, he has now apparently exposed his biggest secret to the world with literally not a care in the world. Of course, as time carries on, so does a person sober up and remember all the regrets of the night before. Just like Grant, right now.

"Are you kidding me?" his eyes are wide as soon as James told him in a very low tone. Thank God too. It seems like even my breathing is too loud.

James nods, "Yeah, man. How the hell are you doing that anyways? I mean, you go to the school for what? Why not just go here?"

Grant shrugs, "My house is here and I always wanted to go to this school, but my father always wanted me to go to Stanford. So, I am kind of doing a half and half thing. It's hard to explain."

I nod, "But why hide it? Why act like you're not as smart as you clearly are?" I ask.

He shrugs, "Guys, I would really love to discuss this, but my head hurts, everything hurts. My leg hurts, what did I do to my leg?"

Let me think back to last night. Grant was drunk even before we got there, so it could have been before that, but my best guess was when we had just gotten here.

"I think you might have fallen over the couch, you did that," I tell him.

He shakes his head, "I don't remember anything from last night, except the beginning when I was with Clair."

Blackout drunk. No, it's never happened to me, but I remember one night in high school when I was damn near close to it. Never again.

"Fuçk, I need some chicken nuggets," Grayson mumbles as he enters the kitchen.

That's not new. I know that almost every time Grayson is hungover, he always craves McDonalds. It's actually kind of weird.

"I mean, there's a McDonalds down the road, but it's pretty damn bright out there," Grant warns him.

Grayson slumps down in the chair beside Grant. "Well, damn, you look like shit," he looks at Grant's face.

Grant glares at him, "Oh, well, fuçk you too," he slumps in his chair.

In walks Ryder just as Grayson comes up with a reply. "Actually Leah does a fine job."

"Grayson, don't you fuçking start. I will fuçk you up," he sneers with anger that even I find hard to explain.

I raise my eyebrows at the conflict. I'm sure that the fact that they both have these intense headaches wouldn't stop Ryder, but lack of energy? Absolutely.

I stand up, freeing up my chair for Ryder and walk over to the fridge, looking for something to feed these people.

I glance out the window and now people are leaving, cars are leaving the drive ways and people dragging their feet across the lawn.

I look around the kitchen and I can't explain the mess, it is out of my vocabulary. "Grant, you have all these parties, who cleans all this up?"

"I pay these people to do it," he answers with his arms crossed on the table and his face down.

I nod, "Alright, what do you guys want to eat?" I ask.

"Just order it," Grant mumbles.

My eyebrows furrow, "Breakfast? Where?"

"That breakfast place down the road delivers."

See, now I probably would have known that if I was actually from this neighborhood.