One Word | H.S.

Chapter Twenty

AN: this is that chapter for me.

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Book.

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Someone, anyone, please ring an emergency service because the five of us have lost our minds.

Millie is standing on the broken table, her platinum blonde locks taped to her forehead by sweat, as Cade stands by her side. His denim clad arm is hooked around her shoulder as a joint slivers between his lips, their voices rivaling the sound of mountain lions as they scream out lyrics.

The song doesn't even have lyrics, just bass drops.

Mia stands to the right of me, her aggressive tone yelling at a frightened Harry. She's showing him how to properly mix drinks, says he'll never land one in bed if he doesn't know how to make a proper 'Adios, Motherfucker".

The drink consists of vodka, rum, tequila, gin, and some fruity shit. Really don't pay enough attention at work to remember, but I know it makes you go bye-bye.

I've had four.

I'm in the middle of a 'dance circle', the circle consisting of myself as everyone has assembled in the other parts of the house, many leaving in the process. "You want pussy? Never gonna get it with that technique!" I hear Mia yell, a scattered Harry attempting to pour the different shots into the metal mixer.

True. What a fucking novice.

My fingers part my hair as my eyes close, my body fully surrendering to the kaleidoscopic music. The violet luminescence blends with my red highlights, my hair turning a magenta shade as the two compliment each other beautifully.

This moment, the simplicity of a lone dance with myself, feels as though everything in my life has been forgotten. The pain, the panic, the suffering, almost feels as though it was a dream, a nightmare that perishes when I awake.

But, I know once my eyes soberly flutter open, the alcohol mimicking my rest, that the nightmare will sink as my reality. No amount of running will aid in my escape of what many call life.

Though, I will allow myself to dream a while longer.

My eyes blink open, the response being slower than expected as I spin in circles, different objects flashing in my vision as the air is swept from my lungs.

I'm aware that I probably look strange, insane even, yet I can't find it in me to care. None of these people know who I am, and the ones I care about will forget everything by morning.

Flash your tits. See if they forget that.

"Presdaddy," I hear Mia call, my legs stopping in their tracks as I peer my head over to the makeshift bar, "come help this asshole." She motions me over with a waving hand, my middle finger flying up as I walk to Cade and Millie. Harry laughs to himself, his head shaking in humor as make my way to the broken table.

Pretty Boy has managed to call himself 'Pretty Boy' at least fourteen times tonight, taunting me with the nickname I accidentally let slip. He continues to speak in third person as I continue to throw different liquors on him, his shirt nearly soaked in tequila as a result.

I would know, my eyes have hardly left his drenched body. The alcohol is making me quite weak, Life Alert will be needed given I may collapse at any moment.

Who said assholes can't be sexy?

Cade sticks his hand up, latching onto my arm as he assists me onto the table. My legs falter slightly, the slanting of the plastic surface nearly causing a fall, but both Miller Light and Thor ensure I stay upright. This, this is a fucking duo I can get behind.