DRUNK
1197 Words
✿MOANA✿
The bass was so loud I felt it in my chest.
Monday night at Voltage, the club we'd been talking about since lunch, and the place was packed. Bodies everywhere, lights flashing, drinks flowing like water. This was exactly what I needed.
Octavia, Lalissa, and I had shown up dressed to kill. I wore a black mini dress that hugged every curve, silver heels that made my legs look endless, and enough confidence to own the entire building. Octavia was in red, a crop top and high-waisted pants that showed off her perfect stomach. Lalissa had chosen white, a bodycon dress that left very little to the imagination.
We were the hottest girls in the club, and we knew it.
"Shots!" Lalissa shouted over the music, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the bar.
Octavia followed, laughing. "It's Monday!"
"So?" Lalissa shot back. "We're celebrating!"
"Celebrating what?"
"Being hot and single!"
We did three rounds of shots in quick succession. Tequila, vodka, something blue that I didn't recognize. The alcohol hit fast and hard, warming me from the inside out and making everything feel looser, easier.
It had been a weird week. Both sets of parents had been almost nonexistent, Richard working late every single night, my mom too. Something about big projects at work. I had barely seen them except at breakfast, and even then they were distracted, already thinking about their day.
It meant freedom. No supervision. No questions.
And tonight, I was taking full advantage.
"Dance floor!" Octavia announced, and we pushed our way into the crowd.
The music was loud and dirty, the kind of bass-heavy beat that made you move without thinking. I let myself get lost in it, my body swaying, hips rolling, hands in the air. Lalissa was grinding on some random guy who looked like he'd won the lottery. Octavia was dancing with a group of girls we didn't know but who clearly recognized us.
I felt good. Better than I had all week.
Then I had another drink.
And another.
By the time an hour had passed, I was properly drunk. Not just tipsy, totally drunk. The kind of drunk where everything was hilarious and my filter had completely disappeared.
"DYLAN DICKSON IS A DICKHEAD!" I shouted over the music, throwing my hands up.
Octavia and Lalissa burst into laughter.
"WHAT?" Octavia yelled back.
"DYLAN! DICKSON! IS A f*****g DICKHEAD!"
"TELL US HOW YOU REALLY FEEL!" Lalissa screamed, cackling.
"He thinks…" I spun around, nearly losing my balance. "He thinks he can just IGNORE ME? f**k HIM!"
"f**k HIM!" my friends echoed, raising their drinks.
"f**k THAT BLONDE MOTHERFUCKER!"
We were all screaming now, laughing so hard we could barely stand. A few people around us were staring, but I didn't care. I was drunk and angry and finally saying everything I'd been holding in all week.
"He's SO—" I gestured wildly. "He's so STUPID!"
"The STUPIDEST!" Octavia agreed.
"And HOT!" I added. "Which makes it WORSE!"
More laughter. More drinks. More dancing.
Lalissa was completely wasted now, hanging on my shoulder, giggling uncontrollably about nothing. Octavia checked her phone and frowned. She's the only one who's not drunk.
"It's past midnight," she said. "We should probably go."
"NOOO," Lalissa whined. "I'm having FUN."
"You can barely stand."
"I'm FINE."
She was not fine. Two minutes later, Lalissa was passed out on a couch in the corner, completely unconscious.
"Okay," Octavia said, trying to lift her. "Definitely time to go."
I helped her get Lalissa to her feet or tried to. Lalissa was dead weight, head lolling, making zero effort to support herself.
"Jesus," Octavia muttered. "Moana, come with us. I'll drop you home after I get her situated."
"No, I'm good," I said, waving her off. "I can drive."
"You're drunk."
"I'm not THAT drunk."
Octavia gave me a look. "Moana Queens.."
"I'm fine, seriously. You need to get her home." I gestured to Lalissa, who was now drooling slightly. "I'll be okay."
Octavia hesitated, but Lalissa chose that moment to start sliding out of her grip.
"Text me the SECOND you get home," Octavia said firmly.
"I will, I promise. Go."
Octavia managed to half-drag, half-carry Lalissa toward the exit. I watched them disappear into the crowd, then turned and headed for my car
The cool night air hit me like a wall. I stumbled slightly, caught myself, and laughed.
Okay, maybe I was a little more drunk than I thought.
I made my way across the parking lot to my car, the sleek black sedan Richard had bought for me just a few nights ago. I fumbled with my keys and dropped them.
I reached for my phone… hand swiping through the contacts… I had saved his number as “dickhead” since he hasn't replied to my texts, he has been ignoring me.
I dialed Dylan's number, he rang but he didn't pick up… I dialed it again but it went straight to voicemail “you've reached the big dîçk, if you're Sally, Rachel, Nelly and Sofia please stop calling your puxxy stinks” and it ended.
"f*****g asshole…."
I bent down to pick my keys, and tried again. The key wouldn't go into the lock. I kept missing, my coordination completely shot.
"Come ON," I muttered, trying again.
"Hey."
I looked up.
A guy was standing a few feet away. Early twenties, tall, decent-looking. He'd clearly been at the club too, his shirt was half-unbuttoned and he looked slightly buzzed but nowhere near as drunk as I was.
"You need help?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I said, turning back to my car.
"You're about to drive drunk. That's not fine."
"I can handle it."
"Where do you live?"
I told him the address without thinking.
The guy walked closer and gently took the keys from my hand. "Let me drive you. Come on."
"I don't even know you."
"And you're about to kill yourself or someone else trying to drive like this. Which is worse?"
I wanted to argue, but my brain was too foggy and my body was too tired. I let him guide me to the passenger side and help me in.
The guy got into the driver's seat, adjusted the mirrors, and started the car.
"Buckle up," he said.
I fumbled with the seatbelt until it clicked.
Then we were moving, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
I leaned my head against the window, the cool glass feeling good against my flushed skin.
"Stupid Dylan," I muttered.
The guy glanced over. "Rough night?"
"He's a DICKHEAD."
The guy laughed. "This Dylan guy sounds like a real piece of work."
"He is." I closed my eyes. "He thinks he can just... ignore me all week... like I don't exist..."
"That sucks."
"He said..." I trailed off, my words slurring together. "He said he couldn't... and then nothing..."
I didn't finish the sentence. My eyes were too heavy. The car was warm and the motion was making me even drowsier.
The guy drove in silence, following the GPS.
By the time we pulled up to the mansion, I was barely conscious.
- Writer
