Me, You

“Don’t be a pussy, John Cornelius. I don’t think Mia would appreciate knowing that she’s dating a pussy,” I sneered, tipping the beer bottle up and chugging the rest of it down, “And the fact that I, Louise Mae Collins, drank but you did not.”

We were at Jared Monaco’s house. His parents allowed him to throw a party while they were out of town, thinking it’d only be Halvo, John and me. Little did they know that Marek Reeds, the college kid next door, was the main supplier for John and his friends, giving anyone a pack of beer for a crisp twenty. Beer meant that the entire school would attend.

Mia wasn’t able to come, having some kind of dance recital.

John nervously chuckled, “Lou, Caroline’s going to kill me if she finds out you got drunk.”

“No, she won't,” My body began to tilt, suddenly too heavy for my legs to support, “And don’t act like the responsible one just because you’re already sixteen. We were just smoking during the summer and that shit causes lung cancer. What can drinking cause?”

“Liver cancer,” He shook his head.

“Oh,” I stumbled over nothing and John grabbed a hold of me.

“I would gratefully share a beer with you any other day. Not here with all of these boys...” He shot a look at the cute junior who I’d been having eye-sex with for the past ten minutes, “You tend to get brash when you’re drunk.”

“Quit being stupid,” I grumbled as he pulled me up the stairs and away from the cute junior.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same to you,” He laughed dryly.

“Joooohn,” I whined.

“Loooou,” He mimicked.

I wanted to reply with something smart, but instead hunched over the stairs and threw up the poison. I groaned,

“Fuck.”

“Ew,” He snorted, “Let’s go wash your mouth out.”

John carried me up the rest of the stairs. I wanted to thank him, but I know it’d be appreciated if I kept my mouth shut. Taking me to the master bedroom, he rested me on the bed as he walked to the bathroom, in search for mouthwash. He returned with a small paper cup. Handing it over, he said,

“Swish it around in your mouth for a little and the spit it back into the cup.”

I did as I was told and handed it back. I sat up, watching him throw the cup away and return to the bedroom.

“On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you? And be honest.” He raised an eyebrow, warningly.

“Honestly? I’m an eleven.”

“Wow,” He exhaled and pulled at his hair, “I am so dead to Caroline.”

I didn’t respond to that, knowing he was right. My mom didn’t care if we smoked or drank or ‘experimented with the teenage lifestyle.’ But, the only reason she didn’t was because she always expected John to watch out for me. He did. Except tonight, when everything slipped away when my ex-boyfriend had his arms around another girl.

“Why don’t boys like me?” I blurted.

He raised an eyebrow, “They do like you, Lou. Where is this coming from?”

“My break up with Blake.”

“I thought you broke up with him.”

I shrugged it off, “Why don’t you like me?”

“It’s kind of in the terms and conditions that I have to like you if I wanted to help clean puke off of you. Plus, you’re my best friend, Lou. I love you.”

“But, you don’t think I’m pretty.”

His eyes widened in surprise, “You’re beautiful, Lou. I didn’t think you needed to hear that from me.”

“More beautiful than Mia?” I drunkenly looked up at him.

“Lou, you’re drunk. I think you need to sleep it off...” He whispered. His cheeks were reddening and I couldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Do you think I’m more beautiful than Mia?” I repeated, suddenly frustrated. Why couldn’t he stop saving my feelings and just say no? But, when his green eyes flickered up to me, his response almost made me fall off the bed,

“Yes.”

Maybe it was because I wasn't balancing my weight on the bed well enough or just really drunk. But, nothing could really explain why my lips crushed against John O’Callaghan’s that night in the Monaco’s master bedroom. The desire to bring up memories of our first kiss under the monkey bars? Or to get a taste of a more experienced John? No. Those couldn’t be the reasons.

None of those reasons could explain why John kissed back. But, they became the excuses we made to never bring that night up again.

The memories came back up with the alcohol as I threw up for the second time in the motel toilet. Stumbling slightly out of the bathroom, John was lying on the bed, giggling to some TV show he hated sober,

“Come over and watch this, Lou.”

I ran into the stream of toilet paper that ran from the picture frame to the office chair. Ripping it off, I stupidly grinned at the two bucket list goals we accomplished already.

10. Use the fake IDs Marek made to buy beer ourselves.

26. Teepee an indoor room.

I ran into more streamers on my way to the bed. Collapsing next to John, I snatched the Dos Equis from his hand and took a gulp.

“What are you going to say to your dad when you meet him?” He slurred, stealing away the beer bottle.

“I kinda want to say ‘fuck you’ for, you know, leaving me and my mom,” I mumbled, “But, I keep remembering that this was my mom’s fault. She broke up with him so he wouldn’t know she was pregnant. So I kinda want to say ‘fuck you’ to her too.”

“Do you think they’re angry at us? Our parents?” He took a long pause, “For like- leaving?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “It’s been a full day and they haven’t called us once.”

“We’re bad kids,” He slowly shook his head, “We’re drunk in a motel somewhere in Missouri.”

“But, we can’t turn back now,” I begged, “Not without meeting my dad. It’s too late to turn back.”

“I know, I never said we had to,” He stared at me with his bloodshot eyes, “I promised I’d take you to him. You just have to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“What do you mean?” I intertwined my fingers with his.

“There’s a lot at stake, Lou. I didn’t want to tell you this before, afraid that you might change your mind. But, your dad may not turn out to be who he says he is. Not saying that he’s some creepy pervert, but that he may not be the good guy he makes himself seem like. And if he isn’t, we’re in a lot of deep shit with our parents for stealing your debit card and going on a road trip...”

“It’s going to be worth it,” I stared up at the ceiling, “I know it is.”

John didn’t reply. Turning to face him, his eyes were closed with his bangs falling over his face. He snored quietly, always being a fast sleeper when drunk.

We fell asleep like that. Fingers still intertwined, facing each other. Like we did as little kids when the dark got scary. Something about it was incredibly innocent, after a night of getting drunk and trashing a motel room.

But, moments like these were always only temporary.