Happily

Chapter Twelve: Shots And Regrets Lead To Hidden Things

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“Just one though,” He told me nervously. I winked and turned to the bartender. “Wait Louis!” Marcel grabbed my wrist. I turned and raised my eyebrows. “This is America, we’re too young.” I shrugged and smiled. “I’ve got it Marce.” Turning back to the bartender I leaned across the counter and yelled over the noise. “Five shots! Make em’ light yeah?” The bartender nodded and got out the glasses. “ID?” He asked before pouring the glasses. I shuffled through my pockets and feigned a scared look. “Shit, mate, I think it fell out of my pocket, dancing and all! Crazy party!” The bartender looked at me hard then nodded, believing my lie. He poured five shots and pushed across towards me. I thanked him and handed Marcel a tiny glass. “Try one!” I yelled. “You’ll get used to it and I swear you’ll want more.” Marcel shook his curls out of his face and looked at me. “Only one.” I rolled my eyes and nudged his shoulder. “Drink up,” I smirked.

            He coughed and gagged but obliged when I handed him another, that time downing it easier. The third went down with one cough and the fourth slid down with ease. I handed Marcel the fifth, “only if you want!” He smiled with rosy cheeks and took the glass from me. “Lou lou thanks!” And I knew he was buzzed. “Six more,” I called to the bartender and I drank four and Marcel two. “Nearly not drunk enough,” I told Marcel. He chuckled and turned around. “Oi! Where are you going you animal?” I called. He turned his head and rolled his eyes. “Going to dance you shithead.” Shocked I stood there and watched him waltz to the center of where everyone danced. “Shit he’s drunk,” I said. Downing another four shots, I gained the courage (and alcohol level) to head over to the dance floor and meet Marcel. Niall was dancing with some brunette in a bikini. I scanned the area and found Marcel dancing with a thin boy with black hair. Marcel moved effortlessly as the other boy slowly grinded against him. Marcel’s eyes blazed with want and his movement were a little hazy from the alcohol. In a second the boy with black hair wrapped his arms around Marcel’s neck and latched on with his lips, sucking and biting. I saw Marcel freeze and then relax. He’s so bloody drunk, I thought. Even the mention of this would give sober Marcel an asthma attack. As Marcel placed his hands on the other boy’s waist, tipping his head back, I felt a jolt of jealousy and anger. I walked off with false confidence and pried off the boy. “He’s with me twat, fuck off.” The boy rolled his eyes and stalked off muttering, “well damn he was a fucking good one.”

            I looked at Marcel with wide eyes. His cheeks were flaming red and his eyes were glassy. “Lou lou?” He smiled. “Yeah?” I placed a hand on his hip. He frowned and pulled my hand off. “Stop! Dance.” He slurred. He moved his hips in slow circles, grinding into me and I hissed. “Fuck, Marcel, how many times have you done this?”

“First,” he mumbled, latching onto my neck.

“Fuck,” I cried.

He peppered me with bruises trailing up my neck and stopped, stepping back and staring at me. I felt a heat all over that I couldn’t ignore and I was so drunk and he was so drunk and it was bloody hot. “Kiss me you fool,” I said, and dove in, crashing my lips on his. It was full of lust and desperation and alcohol and then tongues came in and this was going to cause so many problems in the morning but I pushed those thoughts away because this was the prize of life right here.