Shadow

Beer Pong Pros

I awoke with a start.

Someone was in my room.

I laid there silently for a moment, figuring out where the person was at. My heart was pounding just as fast as it had been during my nightmare—or rather, memory. The person ran into the corner of my desk and cursed. I hesitated. I know that voice . . .

He stumbled towards my bed and collapsed across my legs. I quickly reached over and turned on the lamp next to my bed. "Cole?"

Cole giggled into my sheets and mumbled something.

"What did you say?" I leaned forward and nearly gagged at the stench. Alcohol. He was drunk.

He turned his face to the side. "Your bed smells sooo goooodddd."

"Cole, what are you doing?" I rubbed the remaining sleep from my eyes and looked at my alarm clock. It was four in the morning.

He sighed deeply. "You were mad at me, Kieraaaa. Like really, really, really mad. And I got scared. Like really, really, really—"

"Okay." I put up a hand to stop him. "Why would you get scared?"

He positioned himself so he was lying right next to me, but on top of my comforter. "Cause you were mad."

"Why would my being mad make you scared?"

"Cause I thought you wouldn't be—" He hiccupped. "—my friend anymore. And I want you to be my friend and I don't want you to leave me like my parents."

My heart twisted in my chest. "Cole, you know I would never leave you."

Cole sniffed. "You're leaving me for that—that poopface."

I didn't have to ask. I knew he was talking about Daniel. "No, I'm not. I just . . ." I hesitated. Even if he was drunk, he'd probably remember a lot of this conversation. "I just need to start trusting people more. I need to open my mind up to other people. Dating Daniel can help me with that." I was trying to convince myself of that more than I was trying to convince Cole.

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "You don't trust me?"

"Trust me, Finn. I'll get us out of this. I promise."

"I trust you."

"I need to trust myself more."

Cole didn't seem to hear me. Tears started falling out of his eyes. It startled me. I hadn't seen Cole cry in years. Was he usually this emotional when he was drunk? He suddenly wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my stomach. "You can't leave me, Kiera, you can't! I—I—" he hiccupped again, then cried into my shirt.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat, but the butterflies in my stomach were multiplying into a whole zoo. I rubbed his back gently with one hand and ran my hand through his soft hair with my other. "As long as you don't leave me," I whispered.

Cole suddenly gasped and sat up, making me jump. "Kiera!"

"What?"

"We forgot to feed the cat!"

I hesitated. "We don't have a cat."

He looked at me, adorably confused. "Then whose cat have I been feeding?"

I sighed. Emotional moment over. "Cole, you haven't been feeding anyone's cat."

"Meow."

"Okaayyy, let's get you to bed." That was weird. He acted like an emotional four-year-old when he was drunk. Totally blackmail worthy.