Overjoyed

Chapter 37 - Don't pin it all on me

It was the Friday evening before we were set to leave for South Africa, and Dan and I were over at Kyle and Janna's. "Oi, shit!" Dan said, laughing at his phone. "What is it, mate?" Kyle asked. "That was Woody, Will's gone and gotten drunk and is trying to get a tattoo of Miley Cyrus. They're a couple of blocks from here. We should probably go help out" Dan said with a laugh. "You're kidding" I said, my jaw dropping to the floor.

We all bundled into a cab and soon we were outside the little tattoo parlour where Woody stood outside, his face a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Did he get it, dude?" Kyle asked. "No, they don't do portraits here thank God, but he's still in there trying" Woody laughed, "I swear his girlfriend would have killed both of us if I let him come home with that on his chest." Hooking his arm into mine Dan suggested, "Well since we are out, might as well go find a pub eh?" This was met with cheers all around and Kyle went in to get Will before we set off through the streets, looking for a good bar.

After a couple drinks the guys were really partying up a storm, even Dan was dancing the entire time, but after a few hours I was feeling pretty sick. All I wanted to do was go home and rest. Dan offered to take me but I refused, not wanting to spoil his fun seeing as a local nightclub was next on the agenda for the guys so Janna said she'd ride home with me and see me off safely. Dan hugged me tightly before I left, whispering "I love you more than anything, Lize." I smiled weakly at him, the alcohol settling in my belly, nauseating me.

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I awoke to a loud crash from inside. Dan had just gotten home. "Eliiiiiizzzzaaaaaaaa!" he shouted, followed by another crash, presumably from a vase or something. I giggled slightly as I dragged myself out of bed. Dan was desperately trying to keep himself upright against the wall. Shards of glass lay everywhere. "Eliiiizzaa!" he began to shout again before I shushed him, and put my arm around his waist, stabilising him. I had never seen him like that before. I could smell the alcohol on him, on his clothes, seeping through every pore, on his breath as he slurred indecipherably. Then I noticed it, an unmistakeable bruise on his neck. A hickey.

I helped him to bed, my blood boiling. I undressed him, struggling to lift his dead weight. There was more than one. The little purple bruises, trailed from his neck to his chest. I could smell her, whoever she was. Her cheap musky scent was all over him. Her smell was prominent on his bare skin. I reached for his phone in his jean pocket. I checked his texts and calls, desperate for some sort of rational explanation or even evidence but found nothing unusual. Then I went into his picture gallery and my heart stopped.

There my beautiful man was, some blonde in his lap, his hands gripping her ample behind. There were more, obviously taken by a third party, one of the guys maybe? Bile rose in my throat. He had betrayed me, in the most unforgivable way, and I was wrecked. I couldn't bear to look at him, his phone slipping from my grip as I rushed to the bathroom to throw up, the sight of her on top of him burning in my mind.