Please... Save Me (Stud4Stud)

Chapter 17

~Cris's P.O.V.~

It was around ten o'clock when I found myself pulling into the neighborhood. People were literally everywhere. Drinking, dancing, smoking, eating, throwing up, fucking. You name it, somebody here was doing it.

I parked my truck a couple houses down and stuck the keys under the car, on top of the tire. The grass crunched under me as I made my way over. My pace was slow and my palms grew sweaty.

Though I'd known many of these people from school, I was still a little uneasy. There were a lot of people here and the house was hot as hell.

As soon as I made my way into the house I was dapped up by random people from around school that knew me. Or, felt like they knew me, I should say.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Madison bouncing over to me with a red solo cup in her hand.

"Hey! You made it." She yelled over the music. She danced sloppily to the slow beat of the current song. Her tiny blue spaghetti-strapped dress rising further and further up her ass. The right strap of her dress hanging loosely off of its shiny resting place. One of these days my eyes are gonna fall out. How the hell had I managed to even get myself into this mess?

"Yes, yes I did." I return before I put my hand on her arm, sliding up to pull the strap over her shoulder. Gliding my hands down her arms and sides, my fingers find the hem of her dress. Before I can even get a chance to register my actions, my fingers clutch and pull at the fabric. Pulling it down to its intended resting position. My hands then glide back up, past her hips and to her sides. My head close to hers as a means to lessen the need to yell.

"Now, if you'll excuse me. I'd like to actually enjoy myself tonight." With that, I slide her to the side and make my way to the kitchen.

There were a multitude of snack options laid out along the long, dark wood dining table. A foldable table off to the side showcasing many well-loved extracurricular activities. Bottles of liquor, ounces of weed. Sheets of tabs and jars of shrooms. I couldn't help but just stare at the table in awe. Even little individual doses of molly carefully packaged in a neat blue film were being passed around the party by a group with their own table on the other side of the room.

I deeply prayed the cops didn't show up tonight.

I chose to skip most of the food, considering the fact that most of it seemed to be homemade. I did not legitimately know these people and would not be taking that chance.

But the party table was a different story. Sad, I know. I took some an undisturbed ounce from the bottom of the pile. Examining thick green clusters with zero shame.

Hm... I know exactly what you are. And what perfect trichomes.

Popping the seal on the zip-lock, I lean over the bag and inhale deeply.

Yes. A perfect batch of Wedding Cake. Whoever grew you has one hell of a green thumb.

I take the ounce, along with a pack of Russian Crèmes, and made my way into the den. This seemed to be where the rest of the potheads were. The room was hushed and thick with smoke.

I sat in a secluded corner in the back of the room to roll my wood peacefully. My head bobbing to 6lack's Prblms as it seeped through the speakers.

Everything was going great. About two woods in, my swollen eyes began to water and I wanted to go get a drink. But as I made my way across the room I tripped and fell into someone's lap.

"Shit!" I yelled. Their drink spilling all over the place. I could feel the slight shake of their body beneath me.

"I-I'm so sorry." Stutter, embarrassment washing over me.