LaMelo Ball - By Ari

Thirteen

Slowly making my way down the steps and into the living room, I almost felt as if I were in a dream. I had already tried pinching and slapping my forearm to get me to wake up from this nightmare, but nothing happened. I didn't sit up in my bed and sigh with relief in knowing that none of this was true, I didn't lay back down and close my eyes reassuringly because it was all just a dream. No. This was all real. Too real.

I sloppily set my cup down because my lemonade suddenly didn't taste so good. I wanted ever so badly just to go home and regret ever coming out to the party in the first place. I wanted to cry yet here I was, wandering around for no reason like a lost puppy. I wanted to find Chanelle so we could go home but I knew that she'd throw a complete fit.

"God, Cori, why are you so lame?"

"We just fucking got here!"

"Are you kidding right now? What's gotten into you?"

"If you want to go home, go walk yourself. I'm staying."

But I didn't want to walk home alone. I wanted my best friend by my side to cry on her shoulder and to rant to her about how big of pigs boys are, especially LaMelo.

Oh, LaMelo.

How could he have done this to me? Thinking of his name made me want to spit. And Nevaeh, I hated that bitch now. Sure, she was drunk, but she was trying to worm herself back into his life like the little snake she was and I hated that fact.

I was a jealous, sweaty, dizzy wreck.

I decided then to just lean against the wall by a window and close my eyes, trying to drown out the deafening music with my thoughts. I didn't know what to do then; I didn't want to cry, especially in front of all these upperclassmen. I didn't want to go home because I didn't want to leave by myself. I didn't want to go up there and have LaMelo catch these fucking hands because, well, I can't fight. Plus, that wouldn't do me any sort of good.

Before I could figure out what I was going to do, I felt a hand on my shoulder and my eyes fluttered open, my vision a little blurry before I realized that Melo was standing in front of me, his concerned eyes fixed on my woozy expression.

"Cori? Hey, are you okay?" he felt my face with the tips of his fingers, along with my forehead. "You don't look so good."

I clumsily swept his caring hand away with my arm and pulled away, his body heat making my head throb. I didn't want to talk to him. I was feeling so...lethargic now. I felt like a zombie coming back to life, stumbling around stupidly the way I was. I tried to walk away from LaMelo but he stepped in front of my path, the lanky boy leaning down some to talk closer to my face, because of the loud atmosphere.

"Babe, what's wrong?" he asked and I felt the heat of anger bubble up inside of me and I wanted to slap him right then and there but I felt so weak. "Are you drunk?"

Babe.

"Don't call me that, asshole," I sneered but my speech was so slurred, I was almost shocked when I saw the taken aback look on LaMelo's face. I was so confused; why was I acting this way when all I had was lemonade? Was I sick? The room began to swirl and everything seemed to be getting quieter by the minute.

I trudged through Melo's tall body and tried to reach for my cup, which was still sitting on a small table by the staircase, but he beat me to it and looked inside of it. "Cori, what is this?"

I could barely even open my mouth to choke out the word "lemonade."

LaMelo sniffed the liquid inside the solo cup and his eyes instantly grew wide, his skin seeming paler as my vision began to cut in and out. I grabbed onto the sweatshirt he was wearing for balance as I seemed to be tripping over my own damn feet.

"Fuck! Someone spiked your drink!"

Everything went dark.