opia; matty healy.

19%

"I think I'm definitely drunk by now," I laugh, holding Matty's arm.

"You're definitely something," he replies, looking around.

"Are you waiting for someone?" I pout.

After the first two drinks, we did a few rounds of beer pong with some strangers. Now, we stand in the backyard among many other drunken teenagers. I notice him zoning out, and in my state I decide to question him about it. He turns to face me almost instantly, grabbing me by the arms and pulling me closer.

"No," he drags, "I just wanna play more beer pong."

"Haven't you had enough," I fake lecture.

"Mmm," he hums, "Not quite, m'love, come join me?"

"I'll be there in a minute."

He walks away with a smile, leaving me leaning against the wall by myself. I observe everyone around, not thinking of anything in particular. The backyard seems to be the place for couples, strung all over the place and feasting on each other. It makes me feel a little ill, so I go inside – to get myself another drink. I've been drinking vodka and soda all night, it seems to be working so far, apart from a few beers here and there that I was forced to drink in a losing game.

As I'm pouring the lemonade into my cup, a hand makes its way onto my waist, and at first I'm so disoriented I'm led to believe that it's Matty. As I turn around, I soon realise that the face before me does not belong to my best friend, but instead belongs to someone I've been avoiding all week.

The smile drops from my face, "What?"

"Hey," he smiles, slurring slightly and without a doubt drunk out of his mind, "so we were supposed to have a chat."

"No," I stand my ground, "you wanted to have a chat. I refuse."

"Oh come on," he tries, "you can't refuse me."

"Watch me," I turn around and grab my drink, ready to walk away.

Alex's hand wraps around my arm again, pulling me back and causing me to almost spill my drink. I have the sudden urge to throw it all over him.

"Don't walk away from me when all I want to do is talk," he states calmly, I would almost mistake him for sober.

"Maybe when you're sober, but right now you're drunk and being an asshole."

"I don't know what your problem with me is!" He admits, throwing his arms in the air and letting go of my own, "I'm really not sure what I did to make you hate me. If it's something Matty's told you he's a fucking idiot."

"Please leave me alone," I say in the calmest and kindest tone I can, rushing off quickly before he can follow me.

I feel really sick suddenly, worse than I felt before. It's not that I'm so completely drunk, but the sudden confrontation has caused me an upset stomach filled with anxiety and alcohol. I rush through the crowd of people but can't seem to make my way towards the outside beer pong table. I've lost all sense of direction and begin to panic. I'm pushing through the crowd with a drink in my hand, surely spilling it over everyone.

I'm walking for a few minutes before I collide with someone's chest, looking up it seems to be my lucky night.

"George," I breathe, "I feel so sick."

"Let's get you outside," he speaks quickly and leads me the opposite way to which I was headed.

He successfully gets me outside and before I know it I'm kneeling into the bushes, puking my guts out. It makes me feel worse, so I throw up some more, careful not to get it all over George or me. He sits behind me, rubbing my back to ease the pain, but it does nothing as I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.