Ambrosia

Two is A Lot More Lonely Than One

"Ok ok!" I laughed,"Hmmmm...never have I ever...painted someone's car in neon pink."

The boy grinned and took a swig from the half empty vodka bottle.

I laughed. "Wait seriously? Neon pink?" I looked down at his head in my lap. We sat on the roof of the school, the sky dark and bleak as the stars winked at us.

He lay down, his head in my lap as we played Never Have I Ever.

I buzzed, the smell of alcohol strong.

"Why?" I laughed.

"It was a dare," he grinned, handing me the bottle, "Your turn."

I took the bottle, shaking my head.

"Never have I ever kissed anyone for money," he grinned.

I shook my head, laughing.

"Seriously? Never?" He asked, his arms folded behind his head.

"Never," I agreed, handing him the bottle.

He laughed and took the bottle.

"Never have I ever stolen vodka from a teachers lounge," I said, smirking.

He stared up at me, laughing loudly.

"Oh you do play dirty," he grinned mischievously.

He threw his head and the bottle back, gulping down more vodka.

"Hey hey wait! You're only supposed to have a sip!" I protested, taking the bottle from him.

"You're gonna regret that Sweetheart," he said, sitting up and turning to me.

"Oh?" I grinned and stood up,taking a sip, the liquor burning my throat.

"You're really gonna regret that," he said, standing up slowly.

"I don't think I will," I said, throwing my head back again,"Ah. Now I see why you drank so much before."

I hiccuped, a new buzz filling my veins.

"Give it back Sweetheart. Last chance," he smirked.

I shook my head, stumbling as I backed away.

"It's mine!" I yelled.

He shrugged and tackled me gently.

I shrieked as we went down, the vodka bottle dropping to the ground with a klink.

It didn't shatter but the vodka ran out onto the concrete.

The boy was on all fours, his hands on either side of my head, pinning my hands down.

"You give up?" He asked, a familiar cheeky grin on his lips.

"No," I whispered, staring up at him.

"Your choice," he breathed, leaning down. His lips caught mine in an embrace, the vodka long forgotten.

I stared out the window, the stars twinkling.

"Night Amb," Thomas said, leaning on my door frame.

"Night Thomas," I said, tearing my gaze away from the window.

He smiled, switching the light off and closed the door.

I sat up, staring at the window as rain pelted it and remembered the boy's words.

"I still think you did it just to make me mad. But I don't think you ever did it in a bad way."

And I knew that the boy from my memory was the same as the one in my hospital room.

And that he meant more to me than I remembered.