Chapter 126: Oliver Reyes Is Drunk As Fuck
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After averting my gaze from Damien...the first thing I noticed was how empty my drink had gotten.
One moment it was full, cold enough to make my fingers numb, and the next I was knocking back the last sip like it held the secret to all the terrible choices I’d made over the past month.
Spoiler alert: it didn’t. It just tasted oddly sweet. Sweeter than I remembered, actually, with a warmth that spread through my chest as if something had been ignited inside me.
I plunked the plastic cup down on the counter a bit harder than I intended and exhaled through my nose.
"There," I said quietly to myself. "Problem solved."
Except nothing was solved. Damien was still across the yard. That girl was still perched on his lap. The knot behind my sternum was still twisting anxiously, and it hadn’t improved while I’d been stuck at this kitchen counter sipping what apparently tasted like a solution to my woes.
Her fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt, and he laughed at something she whispered, that easy, charming smile of his cutting through the crowd like a knife straight to my chest.
I had thought...hoped, actually–that the moments we had shared, the late nights tangled in the same bed, the handjob that had left us both breathless and silent afterward, meant something more than just roommate convenience.
But seeing him like this, so casually affectionate with someone else, made the jealousy burn hotter than the drink ever could, a ugly, twisting thing that made my hands shake around the empty cup.
The music throbbed through the frat house, loud enough that it made the walls shake, a vibration I could feel in my back teeth.
Students laughed and shouted over each other, someone made a cannonball splash into the pool to cheers, and somewhere nearby, a blender was howling as someone prepared frozen cocktails like it was a sacred duty given to him by the gods themselves.
The noise enveloped the place, so loud that it became the very essence of the environment.
I despised parties. Especially ones where it seemed like everyone had come just to gawk at Damien Lockwood...and oh boy, there was a whole crowd around him agreeing with that.
I reached for another drink before realizing my cup was empty. I just stared at it.
Fuck... fuck...fuck....
"Oliver?"
Joey’s voice broke through the chaos. I turned my head slowly, feeling like my head was a little heavier than usual.
"Hm?"
He glanced between my cup, my face, and then back to my cup again, looking like he was doing some math and didn’t like the answer. His smile faded bit by bit. "...Uh oh."
Maya frowned instantly. "What do you mean, ’uh oh?’"
Joey scratched the back of his neck with that vibe of someone gearing up to deliver bad news. "So..."
"No."
"I might’ve—"
"Joey."
"—accidentally given Oliver the wrong drink."
Silence fell, heavy as lead.
Maya blinked. "...The wrong drink."
Joey pointed at my empty cup. "I thought it was regular punch. The cups all looked the same."
"It wasn’t regular punch?"
"Nope. Absolutely, definitely not regular punch."
Maya covered her face with both hands as if bracing for a shock. "Oh my God!"
"It tasted like juice, I swear!" Joey protested, desperate, like he was justifying a car wreck. "It was sweet! It had ice! It seemed totally normal, maybe one of those frat motherfuckers spiked it!"
"It was jungle juice, you disaster of a person!" She smacked his arm hard enough that he winced. "You gave the biggest lightweight on campus a cup full of jungle juice?!"
"I didn’t know—"
"You’ve seen him cough from strong mouthwash, Joey! You’ve watched him blush from one sip of wine! You know how he is—!"
"It was an accident—"
"A catastrophic accident—"
Their voices melded into a chaotic mix of accusations and defenses that I was struggling to keep up with.
I frowned in their general direction. "...Why are you both yelling...?"
Maya whipped around to face me, looking almost frantic.
"Oliver." Her voice was carefully controlled now. "Um...how are you feeling right now?"
I took a moment to think it over, because it felt like a question that required some real thought.
How I felt...?
The room felt, wavier than I remembered. Not in a bad way, though. The lights seemed brighter, or maybe they’d always been this bright and I just hadn’t noticed. The music was genuinely amazing.
The kitchen smelled like pizza and something warm, and everything felt a bit softer around the edges, like the world had turned down the sharpness a notch or two, offering a cozier version of itself.
Wait...was the ceiling always shaped like this? Huh...
"I’m... I’m fantastic," I declared, completely sincere. "
Joey groaned. "Oh no."
"I’ve never felt better in my life. This is the best... I’ve felt in weeks, maybe even months."
"You drank the whole cup."
"I paid for none of it," I said, a swell of pride in my voice. "Waste not."
Neither of them looked comforted or proud of me.
A strange warmth was blossoming in my chest, then spreading to my shoulders and up into my head, which felt pleasantly full of something other than thoughts.
My face was flushed. Just standing still had begun to feel like a surprisingly difficult task.
I giggled.
Then I stopped, bewildered, because I had never giggled in my life and wasn’t quite sure how to process the revelation that I could.
"Oliver." Maya’s tone shifted to that of someone approaching an injured animal...careful, measured, leaving space. "Maybe you should sit down for a few minutes."
"I’m fine."
"You don’t look fine."
"I look fantastic. I said fantastic."
Joey immediately grabbed my shoulder. "Water. We need to get him water."
I waved both of them off with a grand gesture, as if I’d had my fill of reasonable advice for one evening. "I need the bathroom."
Maya sighed from somewhere behind me. "Go with him—"
"No." I pointed decisively. "Both of you stay put. I can find a bathroom."
"Oliver, I really don’t think—"
"I can find a bathroom." I started moving. "...Eventually."