Coffee and Cigarettes

"Mom, I'm leaving to go to Cara's house, alright?" I called as I grabbed my phone and tucked it into my pocket. "I'll give you a call once I get there."

"Okay, dear," my mom replied from her romance novel. My parents thought I was sleeping over at Cara's house for the night--they didn't know about the party. Yes, it was Friday and yes, I was going to get ready at Cara's.

My things were in a backpack that I slung over my shoulder as I walked to Cara's house, which was a good ten or fifteen blocks away.

Not that I minded. I needed the exercise.

I knocked on her door and I heard her footsteps coming as she bolted to the foyer. She swung the door open and nearly dragged me inside.

"Hey, Morg!" Ryder called from Cara's desk once she brought me to her room. I waved in response as Cara started throwing shirts and jeans at me.

"Woah," I said, buried underneath a heavy mass of cloth and...cloth. "Calm down, Care."

"I'm sorry," she gushed. "But I'm just so excited! This party is supposed to be great!"

"All parties are," Ryder noted. "They're parties."

Cara answered him by giving him the finger. Then she grabbed a typical Misfits t-shirt and black skinny jeans and changed into them in front of us. Ryder remained unaffected--he didn't stare or anything. It was as if he was completely used to it. He actually just yawned.

"What time is it?" Cara asked.

"Six-thirty," I answered as I glanced at the clock.

"Shit. Come on, Morgan. Let's get your makeup did!" she declared, leading me to her vanity nightstand.

"Don't you mean done?" I asked.

"Trifles," she said dismissively as she started caking dark eyeshadows and eyeliner to my eyes. After about three minutes, she was done. "I have made you hotter. Now, let's roll!"

Ryder grinned and we got into Cara's car before driving off to the party. Cara's parents were divorced and her mom was on a business trip in Boston so she was free to do whatever she pleased.

We felt the music before we even heard it, even from the car. It was horrifying how loud the bass was. We got out and walked into the house, which was jammed with people.

We wandered to the refreshments and we all, being stupid and neglecting the fact that one of us should've been sober, grabbed some Smirnoff Ices and then went off to mingle.

I wasn't too confident about being alone at some stranger's party, so I sat on the couch alone with my drink in hand, not really consuming it other than the occasional sip.

I sat there and started to people-watch.

I spotted Kayla Birmingham in a white tank, skinny jeans and four inch pumps. I must admit, she did look very pretty. No wonder guys were all over her. No way her personality was that great.

I saw a kid in his first year who was brothers with a senior named Mike Kennedy. He was chugging beer like it was going out of style.

I glanced around again and saw a petite brunette with braces and pink berets grinding against someone who didn't even look like he went to high school. He looked like he was in his second year of college at least.
I sipped my drink and looked around yet again. Lots of the popular kids from school were here, some of the jocks, a few of the outcasts, and someone that I never wanted to see again.

Frank Iero.

He was here.

Now.

What. The. F--

"Morgan?"

He had spotted me. Oh, shit, I thought. I immediately abandoned my drink and retreated from the couch and ran to the basement where, surprisingly, no one was.

Maybe it was because the basement looked like a jail cell and smelled like fungi.

Anyway, the point is that I was trapped, tipsy and I could hear Frank making his way down the stairs.

"Morgan?" he asked again.

I sighed and leaned against the wall. "Hi, Frank."

He neared me slowly. "Why'd you switch schools?" he immediately asked. I snorted.

"Wouldn't you like to know..."

"Obviously I would," he said irritatedly. "Or else I wouldn't be asking. So, why'd you leave?"

I glared at him. "Because I was fucking sick of you. Alright? Is that the answer you wanted to hear?"

He moved even closer and I started getting even more uncomfortable. I could sense that he was drunk, but he was hiding it well.

"Morgan," he said slowly. "I think...that I love you..." and then he pinned me by my wrists to the wall and crashed his mouth onto mine. I whimpered slightly as his body pressed against mine, making me incapable of movement.

He forced his tongue into my mouth and I could taste the alcohol in his breath.

I wanted to cry and throw up at the same time. I tried desperately to pull away, but he wouldn't let me. Nothing about the kiss represented love in any way. I knew that Frank was going to use his being drunk as an excuse if I ever confronted him about it.

But then I felt him pull away and I saw a furious Cara and Ryder tugging him off of me. Ryder decked Frank right in the jaw and Cara led me upstairs to the bathroom.

Once we were out of sight, I burst into tears.

"Why does life have to be so fucking complicated?" I wailed. "Why does he pull shit like this and why is it I always want to go crawling back to him every time?"

Cara hugged me closely and said, "Come on. Let's go get Ryder and go home."

We found Ryder waiting for us by the front door. "You good to drive?" he asked.

"Yeah. I didn't really have much," Cara waved her hand in the air. We all piled into the car, with Cara as the driver, me riding shotgun and Ryder behind me. Ryder popped in a Motorhead CD and we started the journey home.

"That Frank has got some nerve," Ryder seethed.

"Don't I know it," I mumbled.

"I'm pissed."

"I know. But thank you for looking out for me."

Then Cara suddenly said, "Hey, what's with that car up there?"

We all looked ahead of us at the silver car that was swerving from left to right. The car suddenly jerked into our lane and started to accelerate.

"Oh my fucking God!" I screamed. "Cara, move! He's driving on the wrong side of the fucking road!"

But before anyone could react, we were met by the blinding white light from the car's headlights before everything went black.