vanilla // lrh

eighteen

"I want to punch Ashton in the dick."

Luke sat at the dining room table, head resting in his hand, with his baby blue's sealed shut. His lips were in a pout, and his body was becoming to lazy to support itself.

That was the first time I'd ever seen Luke drunk.

"No, you don't." I said, even though I'm sure he wanted to.

"Just look at him," He scoffed, opening his eyes to a slit, eyeing Ashton across the room, telling one of his stories as people crowded around.

Alcoholism was definitely not a great quality to have, but Ashton wore it extremely well.

"He's happy," I told Luke. "Don't you want him to be happy?"

"Bullshit!" Luke huffed, removing his hand from supporting to clapping it against the table.

"The beer makes him happy," He slurred. "It's like sunglasses for how sad he is."

I joined Luke in observing Ashton, his smile and eyes so full of excitement.

"At least he isn't in the bathroom crying."

"He will be," Luke grumbled. "Where is my beer?"

"Do you usually drink this much?" I asked, handing him the beer that I was holding, it was his, but just minutes earlier he claimed he drank too much.

"Do you usually ask intrusive questions?" He sassed, with a slight slur of the words.

"Don't answer that. Because you do."

"Friendships require you to tell the other person about yourself, you know?" I said, beginning to get annoyed by his usual harshness intensified by the alcohol.

"We aren't fri-"

"Right." I interrupted, crossing my arms over my chest and walking away from him.

We were friends.

In fact, he was becoming one of my best friends, and the fact that he didn't acknowledge our relationship as anything more than business was frustrating me more than I would ever admit.

"Els! I haven't seen you in like, years!"

I felt Michael's thick arm wrap around my neck to pull me in for a hug, as I wrapped mine around his torso, burying my head in his chest.

"You smell like cigarettes." I mumbled into his shirt, and he pulled away instantly.

"That wasn't me, I-"

"Michael!" I pushed his chest, scolding him as if I were his mother.

"13.8 minutes." I said, as his eyes flashed with grief.

"I know, El, I know."

"Do I have to do what little kids do to their parents? Replace the cigarettes with little rolled up pieces of paper that say why you shouldn't smoke?"

"I'm trying," He exhaled, bringing his hand to the backside of his neck and shifting his stare to the ground. "I promise I'm trying."

"I know," I told him, feeling that I was too harsh on him.

Michael had become addicted to cigarettes ever since his mom died two years ago, the same night I met him.

He was sitting outside our apartment complex, smoking one after another, as I was trying to move in.

"How's your little boyfriend?" He asked, his mood shifting back to his usual spunk.

"Which one?" I teased, even though I wasn't sure who he was referring to. Sawyer? Luke?

"Gym boy," He said. "I think he's here, probably looking for you."

"I don't plan on being found," I said, which is something I would usually only keep to myself, but Michael was the one person I always could be angry with.

Michael loved to see me say whatever ran through my mind.

A thin grin snuck up his pink lips. "I think your other boyfriend found you."

I turned around to see Luke behind me, his dominating height seeming less controlling, as he slouched.

"Ellie, I have to tell you a secret."

"What is it?" I asked, still angry at him for only a few minutes prior.

"Ellie?" Michael murmured from behind me.

"Yeah," Luke blurted. "She doesn't like when I call her that, so I call her that a lot."

"What is the secret?" I insisted, my temper dropping like December weather.

"I can't say it in front of Beetlejuice!" Luke exclaimed, using his new nickname for the flourescent-headed Michael.

"Can you just tell me later? You're drunk."

"And you are rude, Ellie," Luke sassed.

Though I was angry at him, I couldn't help but be amused at his drunken state.

"Okay, let's go." I agreed, waiting for him to lead the way.

"I'm going to get lost, I'm going to get lost." Luke repeated in whispers, as he maneuvered through the crowd.

He quickly whipped his head around toward me, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Is that the bathroom?"

I nodded.

We were in Michael's house, Luke knew where the bathroom was.

"Excuse me." Luke said, pressing himself against the door. "Is anyone in here? I need to tell my friend a secret and I need this room."

The door swung open, to reveal a stocky Sawyer, eyes stained red.

"Eloise?" He spoke, sucking up what sadness he had left.

"Hi, Sawyer," I said, part of me feeling guilty that he was crying, the other half wanting him to disappear.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," I shrugged, feeling out of place that he asked me how I was, when he was the one crying in the bathroom at a party.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked him, knowing it would be rude of me not to.

Sawyer was a good guy, even though his existence annoyed me like no one else.

"I have to tell her a secret. Can you do this later?" Luke said, leaning against the wall.

"I'll find you later, okay?" I told Sawyer as he walked passed me with a nod.

"That guy is such a square." Luke said, entering the bathroom, as I followed him, shutting the door behind me.

"He is." I agreed. "But no one should be crying at a party."

"Except Ashton, that is his specialty." Luke laughed.

"What do you have to tell me, Luke?" I said, looking up at him, with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yeah," He recalled, and just like I had seen dozens of times before, his demeanor quickly shifted.

"Sit on the counter," He told me, and I pressed my eyebrows together in confusion.

Luke rolled his eyes to the back of his head, and leaned his arms forward, lifting me from the ground to the kitchen sink countertop.

"What?" I whispered, because he was so close to me.

"Ellie." He said, his body hovering over mine, his hands placed on the sink on both sides of my body.

"Luke."

"I'm drunk." He said, confidently.

"Yes, you are."

"Just know that." He said with a deeper voice, as his face slowly grew closer to mine, and I felt the heat of his lips press against me.