What happens in Vegas

11| Bourbon

Chapter 11: Bourbon (Bella's POV)

"Gimme, gimme, gimme," I said, holding my arms out for the bottle of whiskey. We were currently in my room, both of us sitting on the floor, talking, and drinking whiskey. We started by playing drinking games. The classic. Truth or drink, never have I ever, shit like that. Now, we're just drinking and laughing at every little thing. 

"Wow, whiskey hits you hard," he laughed, giving me the bottle. "You know you're not waking up tomorrow, right?" he chuckled. 

"Oh, yes! Yes, I know," I sighed, leaning my head against the wall before taking another sip from the bottle. 

"So, what will you tell your friends?" he asked. He was for sure soberer than me. I think he just doesn't get drunk or something. It's like he's immune. 

"That I dot grunk," I mumbled. 

"Dot grunk?" he laughed. 

"That I," I cleared my throat, "Got drunk," I grinned. 

"Yeah, you got drunk in Vegas and will waste an entire day of your holiday in bed," he laughed. 

I pouted, "Mm, that doesn't sound very fun," I mumbled. 

"Exactly, so I say tomorrow we all leave for lunch and then go to the stratosphere rides, hmm?" 

"The sfratophere rides," I slurred. 

"After lunch, okay?" he laughed. I nodded dumbly. "I think that's enough for you, you're not even talking right," he said, leaning forward to take the bottle from me. 

"Ah." I shook my head, lifting the bottle above my head. "That's for me," I grinned. 

"No, Bella," he said slowly and warningly as if I was a child. 

"Yes, Noah," I giggled. 

"Bella, come on," he sighed, sitting up on his knees, slowly shifting closer. 

"No," I laughed. 

"Give me the bottle," he chuckled. 

"No," I shook my head. 

"Bella," he said slowly. 

"Noah," I mocked. 

He grabbed my hand, pulling it down while straddling me before he took the bottle out of my hand, sealed the lid shut tightly, and put it on the ground. I grabbed it and tried opening it but I was too drunk to put all my strength into opening it so I just gave up. 

"That's not fair," I pouted. 

"I can't have you too drunk to function," he shrugged. Once I started opening it, putting all my strength into it, he snatched the bottle and closed it again, even tighter this time. 

I shoved him back, "You're mean!" 

"And you're drunk," he chuckled, tossing the bottle on the bed. 

I clicked my tongue, leaning my head against the wall. I stared at him, my brain not functioning remotely correctly and my body exhausted and aching. I laughed, looking at our position. "That's not very appropriate," I giggled. 

He rolled his eyes before climbing off of me. He stood up slowly, blinking slowly to compose himself. He held his hands out and I begrudgingly placed mine in his and he hoisted me up. He sat me on the bed before grabbing the bottle and putting it on the coffee table. 

"I want bourbon." 

"You can't get any more bourbon." 

"But I want bourbon."