Unfamiliar Ceilings

I didn’t like lager. Or beer. Or whatever was in those foul cans. As soon as I tasted it, my body just wanted to spit it back out. I thought to myself, as we started, how many times could someone say one word in a whole song? Not many, right?

Oh, I was so wrong. Jake and Dean were the only ones who’d made it to the end of the song, what with me ducking out first after less than a minute, followed by Johnny. I nudged the almost empty can away from me while Johnny stared at Jake and his brother in complete awe, as they didn’t even pause between large gulps from their drinks. I heard Johnny mutter something that sounded like “fucking hell” as a crowd appeared around the two, clapping and shouting encouragement.

Another two minutes later and Jake had spluttered and coughed before slamming his second empty can down on the worktop next to him. His skin went a shade paler, then faded to a sickly green colour and he looked like he was swallowing bile.

“You okay, man?” Johnny asked, clapping Jake on the shoulder. Jake just nodded his head and laughed. I just sat and watched as Dean carried on. And on and on.

“He’s really going for it,” I said, one of my eyebrows arched. Jay was standing a little way from him, clapping both her hands together every couple of seconds before turning to one of her little friends and cupping her hand over her ear so she could tell her something.

When the song was over, and Dean put his third and final empty can down on the side, his body swaying from the change in position was when the room started getting a little bit weird to me. Everybody was cheering, but I couldn’t make out their faces. I was a little bit dizzy and I felt...lighter somehow. I turned and looked at Johnny, and he was laughing a little bit too eccentrically at Jake, who now had his head in the sink. I felt myself chuckle, though it wasn’t funny.

Surely not even a whole can could get me so dizzy? And it was only cheap beer! Well, it looked cheap...

Jake finally pulled himself together and clapped Dean on the back, murmuring something to him in a slurred voice. I took a small step to where Johnny was still sitting on the countertop, feeling my body sway like Dean’s had when he’d finished drinking. Johnny laughed and gripped my elbow when I stumbled, then I hauled myself up beside him.

“Leilaa?” Johnny sang my name and I laughed and looked at him.

“Johnnyy?”

He laughed back and jumped down off the counter. “Want to dance?”

Oh no, I don’t dance. Or maybe I do. Who knows? I sure as hell didn’t. I shrugged my shoulders and jumped down next to him, allowing him to grab my hand and tow me through the kitchen, down a hallway still full of people and back into the front room near the front door. It was still the techno-y kind of music, stuff you could dance to. Johnny dragged me through to the middle of the room, through another huge throng of people, grabbed my hands and started dancing like a complete lunatic.

I laughed like I’d never seen anything funnier, then joined the manic limb-flailing fest Johnny called dancing. I tried closing my eyes and putting my arms up over my head, but it just made me feel dizzier and I stumbled again. Someone laughed and I felt hands on my waist steadying me. I opened my eyes and turned my head to look behind me.

“Oh, hello Jake,” I laughed and turned back to Johnny. Johnny smiled and whisper-yelled that he was going to get the both of us some more drinks. I didn’t protest, because I kind of liked how the alcohol started to make me feel after a while. Jake stayed with me, dancing like a prat and even more unstable on his feet than I had been.

“How’d you like Hot Dog?” Jake shouted over to me.

I grimaced. “I didn’t, it was disgusting.”

“How long did you last?”

“Oh, ages,” I laughed.

“Liar.” Jake smirked at me and put his hands back on my waist. It stopped us jumping around like idiots and gave our dancing a little bit more rhythm than we seemed capable of doing. Jake didn’t look green anymore; all the colour had come back to his skin and he’d taken off the straight-peaked cap he had been wearing earlier, revealing really short, straight dark hair. I hadn’t noticed before, but he had two huge black plugs in his ears. They looked like dinner plates. I leaned forward and told him this, and he just laughed and rolled his eyes.

*****

“Where do you think Johnny is?” I asked. Jake and I had spent about ten more minutes dancing in the middle of the room, before we decided we were both feeling a bit sick from it. My head was reasonably clearer than before, but Jake was still falling over his own feet. He sat down in a small space available on the couch near a bay window, revealing the front garden. I stood awkwardly, with nowhere else to go and nobody else I knew.

“C’mere,” Jake shouted, patting his denim clad knees. I laughed and perched on the very edge of his knees, feeling his arms wrap around my waist. The music had changed in genre throughout the time of Johnny’s absence. It had gone from upbeat techno stuff that I couldn’t put a name on to other, heavier things. I think something by Deftones was playing right at that moment.

“I’m going to look for Johnny,” I said, placing my hand on Jake’s to let him know I wanted to get up. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and removed his arms, instantly dropping into the conversation going on with the other people beside him. I fought my way through the crowd and along the hall way back to the kitchen.

I scanned the room very briefly, picking up another blue bottle from the table and opening it. What could it hurt? Dean told me just one wouldn’t get me drunk. So, bottle in hand, I made my way to the opposite side of the room and eventually saw Johnny. He was leaning back near a door leading outside. With a girl. I hadn’t realised it was him until I was right next to the pair.

“Hey,” Johnny said, grabbing my arm. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, just going out for fresh air.”

“Oh,” Johnny smiled. “I think Dean’s out there somewhere, why don’t you chill with him?”

I nodded again, this time a little reluctantly. As I walked outside, I think I heard Johnny’s little friend say, “who was she?”

Outside. It was warm, with a light breeze hitting my face. There were only a few groups collected out there, all caught up in their own little conversations. Towards the back of the garden was a gazebo, with the front flap held closed. I made my way there and went inside. Truth be told, there wasn't that much in there. Just a table, some chairs and a big white fridge against the far wall.

“Hey, people aren’t meant to come in here,” I heard a voice say behind me. A familiar voice. I turned around and let them see who it was.

“Ah, Leila,” he laughed.

I nodded, raising my bottle to him. “Perceptive of you, Dean.”

“What happened to not drinking?” he slurred a little bit, taking steps towards where I stood, leaning back against the table. I simply shrugged my shoulders and twirled the bottle lightly between my fingers.

“I’m controlling myself; I’m not drunk.”

“Aw,” he said, pulling a face. “Not even a bit?”

I laughed. “Nope, not a bit.”

He pulled himself up onto the table awkwardly, balancing a cup full of alcohol. Most likely. He laughed a little bit whenever he swayed and almost fell off the table, and I wondered just how much he’d had, because he was being unusually pleasant. Just sitting there, not talking.

“I think we should change it,” he mumbled, but I wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself. My question was answered when he stood up, stumbled around the table – bumping into it multiple times – and reached the fridge at the back of the gazebo. He opened the lid, flooding the immediate space around it with white, artificial light and leaned over to look inside. He emerged five minutes later, clutching a large, unopened bottle full of clear liquid.

“Vodka!” he stated, triumphantly.

“Vodka?”

“Vodka.” He smiled and took his seat back on the table. “Come on, Leila; don’t make me do some shots alone.”

“I’m not,” I sighed. “How about you just don’t do them?”

Dean pouted...seriously. “Oh come on, it’s a party!”

I shook my head. My last drink was gone, the empty bottle on the table in front of me. I crossed my arms over my chest to show I was serious. I said, “No, Dean. I think you’ve actually had enough.”

He just rolled his eyes and unscrewed the lid of the bottle. “Just try it. Once. That’s all I’m asking.”

I exhaled heavily out of my nose and clenched my jaw slightly at his insistence. I uncrossed my arms and hoisted myself up onto the table beside him. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. 11.30pm.

“If you’ll shut up about it,” I muttered, shoving my phone back in my pocket.

A wide grin spread over his face. “I will.”

He shuffled away from me slightly, putting down the bottle and the lid in the space created between us. He picked up the open bottle and tilted it, filling the lid with the clear liquid. He picked up the lid, slopping a little onto the ground under us and put it to his lips. I watched as he flung his head back and swallowed the vodka at once. He didn’t even flinch, so I assumed it wasn’t that bad.

“Your turn,” he smiled, turning to face me as he poured out another lidful of the stuff. I chuckled out of nervousness and took the lid when he offered it to me. I held it up and looked at it for a couple of seconds, before raising the lid to him and copying his actions.

At first, I tasted strawberry, and then a burning sensation took over my entire mouth and throat. I felt myself gag and heard Dean laughing at me. The strawberry taste lingered in my mouth, and I decided that wasn’t too bad either.

“Wasn’t so bad,” I mumbled, leaning back on the table lightly. Dean had pulled both his legs up and sat with them crossed in front of him, his elbow on his knee and his hand holding his head up. He was smirking at me, but it didn’t annoy me this time.

“Who knew you were actually fun,” he laughed.

I raised my eyebrows. “I’m a lot of fun.”

“Eh, I thought you were a bit of a wet blanket.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well, I thought you were a bit of a twat. But you’ve proved you can be somewhat pleasant.”

He just kept on smiling. “I am a bit of a twat, though.”

I just rolled my eyes, and focussed on bringing one of my legs up and putting it underneath my body. I pushed my hair back out of my face and let it do whatever it wanted after that. I looked up and Dean was holding the vodka bottle out to me. I almost shook my head. Almost.

Let’s show him you are fun.

I matched his smug look with one of my own, took the bottle from him and took a gulp straight from it before handing it back. We sat that way for a while; one of us taking a drink, and then passing the bottle to the other in complete silence.

*****

“No, they’re completely, utterly terrible,” Dean laughed, shoving my arm lightly.

“Shush. Babyshambles are fantastic, and Pete Doherty is an absolute legend,” I could hear the waver in my voice. The waver telling me I’d broken a rule. I was drunk. We’d finished the bottle of vodka a good half an hour ago, and Dean got himself a beer from the fridge.

“I’m starting to think you’ve got a shit sense for music,” Dean said. “But you like ADTR, you get credit.”

I slapped his arm, but it was much too weak and misjudged and I couldn’t find the strength to pick it back up off of him. “No, I just listen to more music than you, and your closed mind.”

He barked a laugh, taking a swig from his bottle. I felt unusually tired, and I couldn’t focus on one thing for more than a couple of minutes because it just went all blurry and weird. Being drunk wasn’t as bad as I thought. Now, we were sitting, facing each other on the table, both with our legs crossed in front of us.

Dean said something else. I’m not sure what it was but I went to slap him anyway. He grabbed my wrist, shooting me an evil smile. He put his bottle of beer down a little distance behind him.

“You ticklish Leila?”

“No.” But I answered too quickly. He shot me another smirk and inched his other hand forward, going for my waist. I raised my free hand to stop him, but he grabbed that and held both my wrists in one hand. I felt his hand on my waist and he started tickling me. I, naturally, fell around laughing and begging him to stop.

“No, you shouldn’t have tried hitting me!” he said above my squeals.

“Come on, p-please...stop!”

He just laughed and kept tickling me. “Why should I?”

“I’ll-I’ll be...nice,” I managed to say. He took his hand away for a second and stroked his chin, mocking a thoughtful expression. Before I’d composed myself from the first time, his hand shot back to my waist and he was tickling me again. He wasn’t expecting me to wrench one of my hands out of his grip. As soon as I did that, I grabbed the hand that was tickling me and tried to pull it away.

I looked up after I had successfully got rid of it, beaming my little face off. Dean was just sitting there, staring at me. Like, really, really staring at me. His eyes didn’t waver away from mine and I felt like I’d lose some kind of game if I looked away. I don’t know what I would win if he did. I felt him brush his thumb across the veins of my wrist and then realised we were close. I’d only have to pucker up...

No, what the hell? It’s the alcohol talking...thinking...whatever. All I know is that it could not have been my conscious mind that actually wanted to kiss Dean. It seemed that he was thinking the same thing, because I noticed his eyes half-closing and he started to lean closer. I closed my eyes and braced myself for what was to come.

“Leila!”