Cut Me Off

We first met at the beginning of June. School was ending, exams were starting and I needed to get drunk. I was doing my usual weekend rounds of going to bars that I, legally, am not allowed to go into. But I have sources. Sources meaning I pay the bouncers or I go in with older friends.

That was a night where one of my rather obnoxious friends had got her boyfriend, the DD, to leave me at the bar. A forty minute walk from the bar to my house. So, drunk and on unknown drugs that a man was previously feeding me, I began on my journey. Stumbling all over the sidewalk, gripping electrical poles and stopping often to take another swig of the vodka I stole.

I found myself dazed and sitting on the sidewalk when I walked straight into someone, laughing. "Watch where you're going, Jackass!" He spewed his words at me, like venom and I laughed harder.

"Come at me bro." When he punched me hard in the face, I was dazed and remember my lip suddenly going numb and I froze, finally glancing at the face with a offended look. "Ow." I sighed, poking at my lip that was gushing blood. I looked at the mans hand, seeing the ring around his finger.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, looking irritated. "Can I just get my bag back?" He almost snarled and I looked around me, wondering what he was talking about. 'What bag?' I thought. I looked at the man, completely confused. "Are you okay?" The man looked at me oddly and I laughed, nodding while poking my bleeding lip a bit more.

I blacked out after that.

I woke up, dizzy and sick. I was in a bed so I had attempted to jump off, only to jump onto a body and cause that body to groan in pain, on the search for a washroom. When found, everything in my stomach was in the toilet. My eyes were teary, my breath stunk and I smelt like I took a shower in booze and washed my hair with weed. I laughed hurmourlessly and rested my chin on my arm that was sprawled across the toilet carelessly.

"Ah, shit." I hissed when I only noticed my large, swollen, throbbing lip. I poke it and flinch, feeling the dry blood. "Fucking Stacy. Stupid cunt." I whispered, thinking of the bitch who had ditched me for the third time already.

A throat cleared and I didn't bother looking over my shoulder. "You should let me check out your lip." A stern voice had my head turning so quick I almost got whip-lash. His eyes were red, his short hair was standing up and he looked completely stressed and awkward.

Married. I seen the ringer on his left hand immediately and I jumped up, flushed the toilet and went in search to find my clothes somewhere in this... apartment. "Sorry, I'll just leave." I told him while quietly passing by him, blushing.

A warm hand timidly wrapped around my arm before I could leave the washroom and I froze. "You're lip is going to get more infected. Trust me, I'm a doctor. I'll fix it right now, then you can go." I looked at him before sighing and following him further into the washroom and jumping on the sink.

I remember playing with my fingers while he pulled out things from a cabinet in the washroom. "So... Married, huh?" I tried to make conversation, but it only ended in him dropping a few things on the floor, tensing up. "Sorry, I'm not familiar with this either, believe it or not..."

The man looked at me with pursed lips before rubbing a few cold things on my lip with a Q-tip. I watched him carefully as he stared at my lips thoughtfully. "Stop that." He finally spoke and I glanced at his working hands, then back to his face. Stubble, tanned, creased skin and creamy brown eyes. I instantly thought of my brother when staring at him, it was then when I pulled away from his hands and looked down at my lap for only a quick second, before letting him do what he's good at.

His breath fans across my face and all I smell is cigarette. I close my eyes and smile a bit. "Am I going to live doctor?" I mocked him and he chuckled, knowing the mood was a bit lascivious.

"Sorry for punching you." He apologized and I gaped at him. "You we're completely gone. You decided to steal my bottle of vodka along with my bag, so I followed you down the street, yelling at you. When I finally reached you, we fell onto and and told me to 'come at you' so I punched you in the face." He explained things nervously, watching my face for any emotions.

I flushed and scrunched up my nose. "I don't remember anything after you punching me." I laughed and looked at him with amused eyes. "Are you going to kiss me soon? Because I'm just waiting for you to make a mo-"

Warm, soothing lips lock with mine and I sigh into the kiss, hoping he will ignore the fact that I just puked only ten minutes ago.

I gasped when he picked me up off the counter, carried me to the bed and dropped me down, crawling on top of me instantly.

The only thing going through my mind throughout the next few hours that day was 'Holy fuck'.