Kiss and Tell

I woke up with a headache. It wasn’t severe, but it hurt. Groaning, I sat up and clasped my hand over my head. The light was slicing my retinas, I swear. I threw back the covers and got up; it was hard enough to stand. Then I remembered... last night, Brent, six large Vodkas. I wanted to puke.

Cringing, I opened the door and tip-toed into the kitchen, trying to ignore the dizziness that was overtaking me. I would not throw up, and I would not go back to bed. I opened the fridge quietly and got the water cooler out before grabbing a glass to empty it into. I thought I was home free, when I heard somebody clear their throat from behind me. Freezing, I flinched and then glanced over my shoulder.

Jonathan Toew’s stood there, leaning against the wall like usual, an enormous, goofy smile on his face. I glared at him and turned back around. He burst into laughter instantly- loud laughter. I ducked my head low, trying to get away from the booming noise, but it was no luck, I was doomed with a hangover.

“You’re an asshole,” I muttered, opening the cabinet for Advil and popping them into my mouth.

“What did I do?” He asked, amused tone, “I didn’t force twenty vodka and coke down your throat last night, that was all you.”

I rolled my eyes, nodding as I sipped my water, “And Brian Campbell.”

Jonathan smirked, “Yea, he was definitely not a good influence.”

I sighed, thinking about Brent. I had made a fool of myself last night, I’m sure. Second night out and I was getting hammered, making the somewhat small age gap between me and the rest of them look way bigger. I acted like a 14 year old who had just found out about alcohol, and had every intention of using that new wonder until it became dull. If it ever did.

I groaned.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad,” Jonathan reassured me, twisting open his Gatorade bottle.

I sighed, glancing at him, “Brent didn’t think so.”

He cringed, taking a drink, “Yeah, Brent wasn’t impressed.”

I clasped the palm of my hand to my face, stupid, stupid. If Jon was agreeing with me, it was bad. Brent had obviously felt humiliated watching me walk around in my drunken stupor, socializing with his friends. I forgot all of my issues, putting them on the back burner, and acted as if time had rewound itself to two and a half years ago, when everything was okay. Ironic how it was worse than ever now, eh?

I really had a talent for fucking this up.

Jonathan let out a relieved ‘ahhh’ as the drink flowed down his throat and he looked at me, “Do you remember shoving your tongue down Kaner’s throat?”

My eyes widened and my head shot towards Jon, I think my heart stopped, “W-What?”

He nodded, eyebrows knitting together. I was about to throw up, pass out, do anything to show just how badly I’d done it this time, when my best friend burst into a grin and began to chuckle to himself.

“Nah, I’m just kidding,” My jaw dropped and he laughed louder, “But you should’ve seen your face!”

I slammed my water onto the counter and glared at him, “You’re. An. Asshole,” I shoved him away from me, mocking light punches on his toned arms.

He was satisfied himself, I can tell you that much. I rolled my eyes as he continued howling, making his way into the living room. Still pissed, I sulked over to lean on the counter and drank my water. Apparently Advil takes a year to kick in, and time was ticking by slowly- soooo slowly. It was 1 pm. My day was just beginning, but I felt as though it was dragging on.

Tip number one: Stay away from booze, it’s not fun.
Tip number two: Stay away from booze when you’re in a crowded room of people who hate you.
Tip number three: Don’t get loaded while you’re at the same place with your ex-boyfriend, whom you cheated on, and his team mate, who you cheated with.

Wow.

I’m a terrible, terrible person.

~

“It wasn’t bad,” Emma told me, twirling her spaghetti around her fork, “I couldn’t even tell you were drunk.”

I raised an eyebrow, stabbing my fork into the perogies that were in front of me, “I don’t know, Brent acted like I was humiliating everyone.”

Emma scoffed, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear, chewing her food, “He’s just uncomfortable that you’re back, that’s all. You weren’t doing anything wrong, you were having fun.”

Sighing, I swallowed my food and nodded. Fun. Maybe that was the problem. Perhaps I wasn’t supposed to have fun anymore? Hell knows I don’t deserve to. Brent probably agreed, I had torn out his heart, like a total chum, I didn’t deserve to live in a happy, fun world. I didn’t deserve to live in his world.

Emma gave me a sympathetic smile and let out a breath, “Look, It’s going to take a while for him to adjust. For both of them, don’t panic because he got a little upset- it was bound to happen.”

I slouched in my seat and nodded, “I guess so.”

“If you can’t handle it, maybe you should go home,” she suggested, “I mean, I want you to stay- I miss my girl, but if it’s killing you like I know it is, home might be better.”

My eyes drifted to the table. She didn’t know about home, she didn’t know why I came back. There was a story that was kept in the dark, only shared between Jonathan and I. Nobody else besides the people back home knew about it. I intended to keep it that way; I didn’t want my friends to hear about it, ever.

“Are you okay?” She asked, halted her pasta mid-twirl.

Clearing my throat, I sat up straight, “Yea, I’m fine.”