Aubrey Tessel's life story would be an article about the long term effects drugs have on a kid's future. Just when she thinks she's grasped onto hope of being content, it slips from her fingers. As she finally gets fed up of her constant cycle of de...
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"You're a liar." Sebastian chuckled as I downed the rest of my drink, trying not to laugh and spit it out everywhere. I shook my head as I swallowed it, my head feeling even fuzzier than before. I moved around to get comfy in the chair across from his, as we both leant in and chatting animatedly to each other, laughing and for once getting along in our smashed states.
Alcohol can fix anything. Even Sebastian's shitty personality.
"I'm serious, I'm pretty sure they found the boot and new it was me, too." I laughed uncontrollably as I spoke, remembering the event that was probably a hell of a lot funnier to me than it was to him.
"That's gross, couldn't you have just found a bucket or garden to throw up in?"
With a shrug from my end, he took his cup to his lips, a smirk on his face as he drank the lot of it.
Sebastian picked up the Vodka, gesturing me to put my empty cup down on the table.
"Uh-uh," I refused the drink, shaking my head with a stupid grin on my face.
"You don't want another drink?" He raised his brow, beginning to unscrew the bottle and pour it into his cup, which I quickly snatched off him, placing it down on the coffee table, littered with all the drinks from my fridge, and we'd gone through a 3/4 bottle of Vodka and half a bottle of tequila and a solid 2/3 of every other drink I owned.
"You said I can try and beat your shitty attempt of a drink again." He passed the cup to me willingly, the smirk plastered on his face. If it was shitty he wouldn't have won fair and square.
"The keywords 'try', darlin."
I ignored him, pouring the vodka in his cup "so basically, you just want to take about 1/4 of vodka, Smirnoff was my choice of the night. You just want to mix it around a little.." I used my straw to stir it, as I talked as though I'm the bartender giving him the tutorial, as he was doing to me mere minutes before I was.
"Why are you mixing it? It's just vodka in there."
I hushed him, "so it's smooth." I took the orange juice. "You want to put this about halfway. Mix it a little.." He snickered as I spill some outside the cup and onto my fingers, but I just ignored it. "Now, you just chuck some tequila in, again, a quarter," I grinned as I'm speaking, knowing just how ridiculous I looked and sounded. I wasn't getting insulted though, so that was a plus.
"Next is some.." I looked at the table in front of me, wanting to pick the right drink from it. "Some full cream milk." I picked the milk off the table, wincing as I tipped it in, and it wasn't just me grossed out by it — the look on Sebastian's face was plain disgust.
"It makes it creamy, like a milkshake." I said with confidence as I pushed it towards him, "It's called a milkshake.. twist. Try it." I almost chuckled at the most inventive name I could think of for it.
He shook his head, "it looks like yogurt that's been sitting there for a mon-"
The sound of something vibrating cut him off. I shushed him as I stood up, trying to find it, before picking up my phone from halfway across the room, answering the number under 'Adam' with two kissy faces. "Hey!"
"When are you going to be home baby girl?"
"I am home."
"My home baby, you said you'd drop by after your girls night. I miss you, I've been up waiting for you." Who did Adam think he was speaking to me like we're together? Who the fucks Adam? I don't have an Adam in my contacts.
"Sherr-" I hung up faster than a fat kid chasing an ice cream truck.
My eyes rested on the phone that I just answered, definitely about three iPhones too upgraded to be mine. I glanced towards Sherrie's sleeping body taking over the couch, tossing the phone over there. I looked to Sebastian, scratching the back of my neck. "Wasn't my phone." I almost told him about the weird conversation I just had. Was that Sherrie's boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Whoever it was, it definitely didn't sound innocent to me.
He snickered and passed me a cup, filled to the brim with the same drink I'd made him. I wanted to throw up.
He took a drink of it, before wincing and skulling it, a disgusted look on his face. Blocking my nose, I downed half. "You put milk in mine!"
"There was milk in mine too, it's your recipe, idiot." He retorted, and when I shrugged it off, he begins speaking again, his tone more serious.
"You know, Jack didn't mean what he said earlier, right?" He referred to the party, and I visibly winced, having forgotten all about it. I really didn't need to be belittled by Sebastian too, especially after we were just getting along.
"He meant it," I confirmed, and Sebastian just sat there and listened, I went on, "he's never meant it when he's said it, and hey, maybe you were right. He was unimpressed."
"I was just being a fuckhead. You know I didn't mean that."
I forced a smirk, grabbing the orange juice off the table and taking a drink to wash down the taste of the last drink. "So you think I'm impressive naked?"
Sebastian just shrugged, "something like that."
I tried to look like I wasn't affected from the somewhat compliment from him, keeping my face blank before switching the subject. "Have I ever told you about the story of a gorilla chasing Jack and me?" He looked unimpressed but lets our previous conversation slip, which I was thankful for.
"A gorilla didn't chase you. We don't even have gorillas here."
"You're observant, aren't ya?" I sarcastically spoke, "I know that, but we thought it was." My voice all of a sudden serious as I thought back to how scared we were.
"What was it?"
"A Jack Russel." I tried and keep my face neutral but I belted out in laughter, him chuckling along with me, louder than I'd heard it before.
The sound brought a smile to my face, and in my drunken state I couldn't help but imagine what he'd sound like laughing for real.
My brain scolded itself for letting the thought even cross itself. "I've told stories all night Sebastian Moretti, where are yours?" I calmed down from my burst of laughter, my voice back to normal, but a smile still on my bare face.
"I don't have stories." He shrugged, pouring me another drink, which I gratefully sipped on.
"Why not?"
"I wasn't a dumb ten-year-old."
"Neither was I." I defended. Who is he calling a dumb ten-year-old? I was the smartest in my year. I had year six work in year three.
"When were they from then?" He poured himself a drink and we both take a gulp, as I thought back to when it happened.
