Until You're My Poison

Chapter1 :

"Nikki, ...hey Nikki?" Two fingers tap in my face in an attempt to get my attention. "To earth girl!" I'm brought back to reality by Amy who is persistently trying to get my attention. I finally look up at her annoyed.

"What?" I snap at her as I lift my half empty glass of Vodka to finish it.

"I said drinks are on me," she says avoiding eye contact.

"And?" I roll my eyes. Amy and her attempt to prove to the universe just how much she can fit in with her rich friends is not on my to-do list tonight. Besides, I know she doesn't make much from her crappy internship. If I wanted to buy her with less than a pinch ofmy trust fund I could, however lately I don't care much for my trust fund. I have actually been racking up huge meaningless bills just to spite my father.

Anyway, Amy has just given me a chance to embarrass her, and I could use a distraction.

"Amy don't bother paying for mine. I don't wanna be the reason for your bankruptcy for the rest of the month!" I talk loud enough for rest of the group to hear with a mock sympathetic expression. Loud laughter follows my comment. And Amy looks down embarrassed. Her eyes are glassy. I know she's fighting tears. A small part of me feels bad for her but the wicked savage in me takes over and feeds off of her pain and embarrassment. I'm starting to get the hang of this-hurting people. It's been a work in progress for a few years now. I don't try to fight the smirk that forms on my face from the satisfaction I garner.

Hurting people helps me feed my inner demons that fight so hard to make me feel pain that I would rather store away. Pain that I have suppressed for quite a few years. So instead of feeling it, I feed on the pain of others. Besides, why should I suffer alone? Misery demands company and that is exactly what I'm giving it- company.

"You're in quite a mood tonight," Ralph says in that almost devilish tone of his. He steps towards me and sits on the stool next to me on the counter that Amy has just left vacant. His newly styled spiky blond hair looks good on him. His skin is newly tanned, and he's wearing a white shirt that hugs his muscles tight it matches his blue skinny jeans. Ralph is the closest thing I have had to a real friend since I started pushing everyone away. He just never goes away no matter how far I push him. He tolerates my 'callous personality' as people often call it when they whisper behind my back.

"Oh no," I sigh dramatically. "And I was trying so hard to mask it," my voice is laced with sarcasm.

He tries to make a sympathetic expression, but fails miserably and we both laugh.

"Ease up Maleficent I come in peace. So what are you so grumpy about?" He asks, as he waves his hand to summon the bartender. I can't fathom how he's not keeled over on a toilet emptying his the contents in his stomach yet. Ralph is a heavy drinker as opposed to me. This is evidenced by the fact that he is on his eighth tot of straight scotch and is still relatively sober while  I've only had four shots of vodka and I already feel fucked up.

"Nothing!" I say trying to dismiss him. He raises a brow at me. With that 'I'm-not-buying-it' look on his face.

If I started telling him all that I was grumpy about, we would probably grow old talking. Well, there is a reason I'm feeling off tonight, but I'm planning on keeping it to myself. However, I know Ralph, and he will pester me until I tell him. He has always been the protective and caring one since were kids while I often treated him to cold apathy and occasional sarcasm. It's a wonder how he still puts up with me.

"Double scotch, on the rocks." He smugly instructs the bartender. "Oh and cut her off," he points in my direction and smiles sweetly. "You've had enough. I roll my eyes.

"Start talking or I'll get it out of you!" He says half smiling, but I know he's not playing. The bartender slides a glass of scotch towards him, and he starts drinking just as I start talking.

"I want to drop out ... of college" I say observing his face for a reaction. He pauses for a moment with the drink still in his mouth. His eyes are shocked at first but then they turn contemplative as he shallows his drink with a sour look on his face. I wonder if that's due to the burn of the scotch or because of what I just said. He takes a few seconds I'm guessing to process what I just said. I wait impatiently for him to say something, but I can already guess what he'll say from his reaction. I catch the bartender nosily listening in on our conversation before he quickly resumes his business.

"What? ... Why? You can't! You're in your last year." He finally remarks trying to hide his disappointment, but I can hear it in his tone.

"I just don't think bio-engineering is what I want to do for the rest of my life, I have better dreams in mind." I say in an attempt to calm my best friend. He looks confused to say the least.

"Better dreams than getting your degree and joining the world's capitalist cycle?" He smiles trying to lighten the conversation, but it doesn't meet his eyes. He can't mask the worried look on his face atleast not from me. You've never even flunked a test. Just graduate at least?" He suggests. I shake my head subconsciously refusing to hear his words.

"Your dad will kill you!" he spits out, not making eye contact.

"Gee thanks Ralph. That really helps!" I roll my eyes. Well, the part about upsetting my father, I don't mind. I want to upset him, even drive him mad. But that's not my reason for dropping out. I'm tired of doing things that aren't right for me to meet his expectations. Over the past few months it has felt like I'm meeting everyone's expectations but mine.

"I'm just saying that it won't hurt to just finish first. I mean it's just two more semesters. Unless you have another reason for not graduating," he raises a brow in accusation.

"What exactly are you insinuating?" I ask defensively.

"Nothing!" He shifts in his stool sensing my rising anger. He raises his hands in surrender and raises hand once again to beckon for another drink.

I'm thinking about smacking him, but my thoughts are interrupted by the crowd of Ralph's other friends, my "friends". They are the people I hang out with almost every night. I party with them that much but feel as detached from them as if they were strangers I had just met. Whenever they have "plans" which always include drugs, partying and sex I'm usually game. Not because I like them or love to do those things. Actually there's no reasonable explanation for why I'm with them right now. Sometimes I think I hang on to them and all the parties and drugs as a crutch, something to hold me up when the pain is too much. Besides they always seem happy to have me around aside from when they're whispering in corners and eyeing me. It always makes me wonder how much energy it takes to be that two faced and why they do it. Of course it helps that I'm currently on a spending bender just to annoy my father. My group of friends know their bills will be catered to at the end of the day, but hey as long as it annoys my father it's well and good.

Currently my "friends" are heckling someone with more excitement than I care for.

"Yo G," one hollas.

"Gustin long time no drinks," another says and the crowd of drunk college kids burst in laughter at what was a terrible attempt at a joke.

I look up to see the guy whose name they are shouting, walking across the nightclub towards the bar. Of course, it's him. Who else could it be? Grant friggin Gustin. He is wearing all black. A black leather jacket, black skinny jeans, and a black t-shirt. I roll my eyes as he reaches the crowd smiling with a bunch of his friends beside him. He says hey to everyone, then walks up to Ralph and me.

"Hey you blond loser!" Grant's teases.

 Ralph stands up to hug him, but Grant declines.

"I'm not hugging you!" Grant warns and they both laugh.

Friendly much?