Honest || h.s.

Interlude

Harry.

Jackson Sommers always took the time to take me places, show me things, and help me experience things that I never would have, given my condition.

Once we were at a party. This was one of the two times he took me somewhere my Mum would have disapproved of, the second being the music festival where we got high. At this party, kids were doing shrooms and acid, and we politely declined and all, but then we got separated and I somehow got wedged into a second-hand smoke cloud of tobacco from a hookah hose. I didn't see any familiar faces around the smoke circle, and so naturally I started to feel fairly unsafe. Instead of allowing myself to panic, I tried to focus on my tactic of saying nothing. There was this girl next to me, drunk out of her mind, who kept eyeballing me sideways and bumping into me while she swayed to the music. She looked like a university girl, but one who decided to go to hair school instead, if that makes sense. I was way too young for her, but I was too uncomfortable to tell her. I think her name started with a T, but I honestly can't remember. Someone in the circle was talking about Dungeons and Dragons. Her friend was laughing, like, really hard. I was avoiding the hookah, but she passed me her drink, which smelled like wine.

"Fuck it-it," I mumbled, taking a swig.

It was not wine.

"Where did you get this?"

"Thereb are some in thne kintchen," she woozed. "Do you-- HIC-- wamt me to tanke you?"

"Yes please." I could already feel my nerves waning.

I helped her up and we made our way together around the outside of the circle towards the kitchen. The whole house was pretty smokey and dim, so a few times I had to keep her from tripping.

"Heyyyyyyyyy," she leaned heavily into the counter when we reached the kintchen. "How's it goimg, in here, Bennnn?"

Ben must have been the owner of the house, or at least the son of the owners. He was lounging at the bar, two girls on either side of him, a snapback dousing his mop of platinum hair. "'Sup, Tamara? Who'd you bring?"

Tamara. That's her name.

"Thims, he's is, uhhh..." she looked at me. "Oh my god, I formgot your naaame."

I had never told her my name.

"Harry," I nodded, giving a slight smile to everyone, since they had all decided to look at me. The attention was short-lived, thank God.

"I brought hiimn tio try this bomb-ass fuckk limquor," Tamara swung her drink in an arc, nearly spilling it while she lost her balance against me for the fourth time. We were roughly the same height, but that did't stop her from nearly supporting herself on my shoulders. I didn't mind helping her stay on her feet, I really didn't, but not for the reasons most guys would.

"Jessie," Ben grinned at the girl to his left. "Tamara and Harry want to try some more of that cranberry vodka shit. Can you make another pitcher?"

"Hell yeah!"

Jessie had glitter on her eyes, a gold shimmer to show off her dark, caramel skin. She got up and tiptoed around the counter with her own cup in hand, obviously not as smashed as my friend here. She was cute, and seemed younger.

"Beennnnn," Tamara hiccuped. "I haven't seenm you in momths, how conme you neverr come aroumd Holmes Chapel anmymooore?"

"Honey I'm makin' dolla bills in the city now!" Ben slid out of his seat to help Tamara to Jessie's spot. I let him swoop his arm under her shoulders, gladly stepping back to lean against the counter. The tops of my shoulders were damp from her sweat and I smelled like women's deodorant and alcohol, which was lovely and all, but I was starting to feel less than comfortable again and I needed a drink fast.