hangovers & milkshakes

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November 2nd

I downed the rest of the drink, feeling my smile spread wider as the alcohol traveled through my system. My friends were no longer in sight, but familiar faces surrounded me; specifically his.

My stomach was flipping over and over causing me to throw up the remnants of whatever I'd last eaten. I was blinded by the bathroom lights and my head was heavier than a boulder. I can't believe I'm dealing with my first hangover.

His hands were large, and safe as they held my waist and nothing lower. His breath smelled of mint and Jack Daniels. I couldn't help my hands from wandering into his shirt sleeves over his large shoulders.

I was so stupid and careless that night. I am responsible, yet something in me ignored that. Now I must deal with the consequences.

His lips were so soft and gentle against my cheek, my neck, my stomach. I couldn't resist the burning urge to rip his shirt off and get into too much trouble.

You are too much trouble, Everett Gaines.

—————

The sweatshirt I slide over my head is large enough to conceal every occurrence of Halloween night, yet a little suspicious given it was nearly 70 degrees out in Atlanta. I shook off the thoughts clouding my mind and swung my backpack onto my shoulders, preparing for the dreaded day ahead. My parents were quietly conversing in the kitchen as I descended the stairs. I popped in, grabbing a banana out of the fruit bowl and attempted to duck out as quick as I came, but my father stopped me.

"Janey, honey, we need to talk." His tone was cool, unreadable. I spun around slowly glancing between him and my mother.

"Sit down, please." My mother delivered the same tone, causing sweat to bead on my forehead. I pulled a chair out from the table sitting, but not saying anything. "Where were you on Halloween?" My mother's grip tightened on her glass of water and I gulped.

"I was at Abbie's, I told you that." My voice trembled and I tugged my sweatshirt sleeves over my palms in anxiousness.

"You sure about that? Because your mother found beer-soaked clothes in your hamper when she was doing laundry." Dad's voice was cold, causing me to jump.

"Okay! Maybe I wasn't at Abbie's house, but I was responsible. I didn't drive home drunk and I didn't take any drinks from strangers." I realized the words that escaped my lips did nothing but anger my parents.

"You were drunk? Seriously, Janey!" Dad slammed his hands on the small table, earning a glare from Mom.

"No, not drunk! That's not what I meant!" I pleaded, but their disapproving looks were overwhelming. "Look, I had a few drinks and didn't feel comfortable driving home. Abbie's house was a few minutes away so we walked there and I slept over."

"Why did your clothes reek like beer?" Mom still clutched onto her glass of water.

"Some idiot dumped his beer on me. I borrowed clothes from Abbie. I swear that's all that happened." I knew I was in too much trouble. Surely they'd be able to tell I was lying straight through my teeth. Surely they'd know I didn't sleep in Abbie's bed, but in a stranger's, wrapped in Everett Gaines' arms.

"Go to school. We'll talk about this later." Dad's voice gave me chills and I jumped from the table to grab my keys. I scurried to my car, jamming my key into the ignition and backing out of the driveway. I quickly dialed Abbie's number putting it on speaker so I could focus on the road.

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