Can't get along with alcohol

Well, at Seth Morgestern's home, you can find three things: a cozy sofa, music from high-quality speakers and soundproof walls to make the most of any album without having to deal with neighbors' complaints. Then sometimes there're also Charlie and I, like tonight.

When I saw Benton's beautiful, smiling face appearing from the kitchen, a weight rose from my heart; after the events with the owner of the house I just didn't feel like staying alone with him.

So, with the newfound serenity, we started Saturday night with a slice of pizza ordered at the corner restaurant and a sip of cold beer. The dinner was replaced with video games, a joint passed from hand to hand and, at each lost match, a further gulp - it is then, by itself, that the alcohol level in the blood increased enormously, especially in my case.

That's how, in less than two hours, I started to feel my head spin and grumble, but I don't want to give up: giving the victory to one of the boys with me is like highlighting the experiential gap that separates us.

Charlie notices my too cheerful laugh and heavy eyelid, so he takes the joystick away from me: «Okay, for Jay the game ends here» his being responsible emerges, making my lips twist. I know he does it for my own good, that it was Jace who asked him to take care of me, and yet I can't help but find myself annoyed by the thing - albeit involuntary, this is a surrender.

I mumble something, trying to stretch myself so far as to take up the weapon with which I tried to defend myself so far, but I end up lying badly on his legs. I feel his thighs crush my breast, while one of the knees tries to twist my ribs and squeeze the stomach in a very dangerous way - it's so full and swollen that if Benton were wrong to move I would end up vomiting even my soul.

Suddenly Seth passes by, tearing the joystick from his friend's grip: «Let her lose and drink, at least I'm having a little fun» he jokes, handing me both the loot of his raid and the umpteenth bottle just uncorked, from which he will have take a couple of sips.

Charlie gives him a grim look, reluctant to see how miserable I can become by swallowing alcohol. On his face is readable the obvious desire to reproach and remind him that. after all, I am the puppy of the group and should not take such liberties, especially in the absence of my brother, but he holds back, perhaps fearing to end up in the middle of yet another bickering.

I smile at Morgestern, thanking him for the support and refueling, but as soon as the nostrils get the scent of hops, the nausea peeps.

I should stop now that I still have a bit of lucidity, because if I were to get to the end of this bottle, I would have no control over my actions, thoughts or reactions of the body. And it would also be better to take a few seconds of rest from the stale air of the living room.

«I have to-I have to go to the bathroom» I say with a thick mouth, and so Charlie does his best to support me as I try to stand up.

I stagger badly, feeling my head spin. He holds me up.

«Do you have to vomit?» He asks me, lost. I am quite sure that none of them ever happened to have to accompany a girl to throw up; in the evenings spent together, Jace, Charles and Seth must have settled for a secluded corner, a basket in the middle of the street or who knows what else, but instead of helping each other, they must have been content to laugh coarsely in front of the discomfort of the unfortunate on duty.

With me, all this, is not contemplated and, in the absence of the first-born Raven who supports my head, it is up to them to act as older brothers.

Seth, from his leather sofa, enjoys the scene laughing, perhaps of me, who are too self-conscious to stand up to their comparison.

And it bothers me even more.

I feel the frustration moving through the fumes of alcohol - because in the end, if you don't remain cheerful it turns out in a sort of being pissed off.

I avoid Charlie badly, almost growling like a dog. I don't want him to support me anymore, let alone show my weaknesses. I mumble something, perhaps urging him to stay away from me. To be honest, what scares me the most is that I still look tiny, harmless and innocent at their eyes, when in reality I am about to overcome that thin threshold between adolescence and adulthood - and I wish that they, especially Morgestern, noticed it.

I stagger in the direction of the bathroom door, though the steps are unstable and the carpets of terrible threats. I know that at any moment I could combine the most tragicomic of disasters, but I still try to resist. Having turned away from Benton may have been the worst possible choice, especially now that the bare foot gets stuck in the gum that should hold the carpet between the chamber and my destination. I feel beer stirring in my stomach like a tsunami while gravity does its duty and, before realizing it, I am falling forward.

I close my eyes in an instinctive defensive gesture, preparing to blast my face on the floor and then throw up everything I can.

"It is inevitable that this will happen.

It always goes like this."

But before the pain takes hold of me, the tightened handshake grasps my belly, in a desperate attempt not to break my nose. I feel another body cling to me, staggering to be able to hold both. And so, as long as I am not sure of having regained my balance with my savior, I try to prevent the spurts from spilling out of my mouth.

I wait a few seconds then, when I finally look up at those who rushed to my rescue, I cross Charlie's gaze. It's dark and furious, very different from the one I'm used to and, for a moment, I fear the actions I am not able to control.

I certainly must have offended him.

«I take you home» he says firmly, as striking me straight with his arms. The stomach flips over again and the impact of the vomit gets more and more intense.

"At the next shot I make a killing."

I shake my head vehemently, convinced that the drive could only worsen the situation: «Charlie... let me» I moan, feeling the urgency to lower the handle in front of me. I am so close to the toilet seat, at the same time so far away - and the more the awareness of it makes its way into me, the more I would push it away one last time, to save us all from the gastric juices that are stirring in the stomach.

He looks at me with a sort of strange reluctance and, in his expression, the man who he is becoming shines through.

«Didn't you hear me?» A new tug and, inexorably, I find myself cupping my hands over the mouth.

Seth rushes on us and, ripping off his friend's grip, finally frees me. I feel him pushing me towards the bathroom and in less than no time I find myself kneeling on the ground, trying not to get dirty anywhere.

**************

In the darkness of the eyelids that still closed, I begin to wake up like a bud in spring, although with much less poetry to describe the moment. The mouth is terribly kneaded, so that I seem to have slept for eons. The muscles are numb and I have to stretch myself over and over again before regaining some sort of mobility.

In the air there's a delicious aroma of coffee, a detail that in Raven'house takes on the connotation of "rarity", so I can't help but open my eyes to try to understand what a special occasion this miracle is.

The light filters through the curtains and, suddenly, I realize that it's not coming from the usual direction. I overflow the covers, smell them discovering a perfume that does not belong to me: which bed am I in?

I jump to my feet, trying to identify the place where I am, but before the walls or shelves full of objects reveals something, I see the chubby and hairy face of Chucky, Seth's blue Prussia cat.

The animal stares at me with a certain hatred, while I start to fear for my safety, knowing how jealous he is of his master - and probably also of his bed.

Quick, I slide out of the covers to give back to the little furry friend his space, discovering something that I might have preferred not to notice. As in the worst romance novels, sometimes similar to teen fiction, I find myself in socks, panties and a t-shirt, thanks God wide enough to cover what must be hidden.

Exactly, after the fifteen minutes spent in the bathroom putting back the pizza and the alcohol, what did I miss?

Who dared to take off my pants? And are we sure that they have limited themselves only to this?

Chucky meows, calling me, so when I look up at his dark face I think there's a certain amount of pity in his mustache.

"Yes, I know I gained weight.

And not having waxed in the last week - I would almost say "month"."

The awareness of this does nothing but worsen the situation. I don't know whether to cry or hide under the sheets for the next few hours, until Seth decides to figure out if I'm dead or not, or if he'll leave the house to go to work.

Yeah, it seems like a good plan.

I'm about to turn around and go back to bed, when a melody starts to fill the rooms with joy. It takes me a few moments to figure out what song it is, but in the end, to my surprise, I recognize a few turns of the guitar, giving a name to the song: Hey Soul Sister.

The feet move involuntarily towards the door, where the desire to spy beyond the jamb becomes strong. I don't think I've ever been alone with Morgestern at home, waking up in the morning with his company.

I squeeze my eyes in the direction of the living room and, seeing nothing, I slip out of the room, pushing myself to the end of the corridor. I lean over just in the direction of the kitchen and I see him there, beautiful as always, while humming the lyrics of the song that it has just started.

I wish I could be disenchanted, but I can't. My attention gets caught in every detail of him: in his dark hair all disheveled, in the folds of his lips that hold up the cigarette. Among the missing sleeves of a tank top of a concert of some years ago and on the drawstring of sweatpants.

I see him moving with a disarming naturalness, unaware of the fact that someone is spying on him. He turns to the stove, watching the mocha. He has a broad back, much more than I remembered and the muscles under his fair skin moves harmoniously, leaving the imagination with the opportunity to fantasize about hundreds of unlikely situations.

Then, to break the magic, he turns towards the corridor, discovering me in the act of a crime. For a moment he stands still staring at me, perhaps trying to realize the situation and then, with all his delicacy, he bursts into a thunderous laugh that makes my heart jump in the throat.

With my hands I pull down the hem of my shirt, trying to cover as many thighs as possible. Something I can do, but it doesn't always seem to be enough. His eyes also do not miss anything, they are predators, especially when it comes to female bodies - but with me this might not be worth his dowry, after all I only am the younger sister of his best friend, but to be honest, to be really honest, I'd love to know that he looked at me like that too.

«What's so funny?» I ask him, feeling the cheeks becoming warm very clearly.

He shakes his head, then beckons me to join him: «You look like a lost chick, that's all» he confesses, stretching a cup of coffee in my direction. Thank goodness, the kitchen island stands among us, the only shield between my excessively bare skin and its possible provocations.

I take a sip.

«Charlie?» I ask, feeling the urgency to put together the pieces of the puzzle that has become the evening just passed.

Seth does the same, then throws the ash into the sink and takes another shot from the filter: «He made sure you were alright, helped me take you to the couch and then resigned himself to the idea that you were too distorted to be taken home».

"Oh..."

«So I fell asleep?»

«Totally. On the sofa. I struggled a little to take you on the room and take off your sweatshirt and jeans»he gives me a playful look and the desire to bury me under layers and layers of earth becomes concrete. I can't believe the boy I have a crush on had to undress me while I was snoring like a warthog.

I could have endured the fact of having vomited in his bathroom, but with this I believe I have reached a peak that is impossible to ignore.

Morgestern still sips his black coffee, then begins to get close dangerously: «You know Jay, this morning I was making a rather singular consideration» suddenly his words catch my attention and the embarrassment fades away, giving me a way to regain a sort of composure. I grab the cup with both hands, leaning in his direction to hear better: «You stayed at my house all night, shriveled and alone, yet you haven't managed to lose your virginity yet. Explain to me how is it possible?» His smile takes a turn that is anything but friendly, so mischievous that it makes my heart get stuck in the throat.

"No, he couldn't have said it seriously. He could not have mentioned such a subject. And then how does he know certain things?"

I jump to my feet, red as a tomato on the face. I am incapable of uttering any kind of word, completely overwhelmed by agitation, so I do what seems best to do: run away from him.

Without hesitation, I run towards the door, throw it open without hesitation and shut it behind me with a thud.

And he should be one of my best friends? Did my brother really trusted to leave me in the hands of such a sadist? I cannot believe it!

I start to walk down the stairs to go home when Mrs. McFinnel, Seth's neighbor, stops me clearing her throat. I blinked, unable to understand why she's doing so; after all, the lady knows by herself that if there is something to complain about she has to do it with Benton, the only one of us who listens to her.

«Little girl, aren't your trousers any more fashionable?» He asks, adjusting the glasses on her nose as she anticipates me in looking down at my legs.

The shame seems to want to take me to the throat, while tears of despair begin to fill my eyes.

"Why me?"

At this point I return to Seth's home even before understanding what's the right move to do. Wherever I turn, I find myself lost in a sea of missteps.

Morgestern looks at me from the sofa, even more amused than before. He laughs like he's watching the funniest TV comedy and I wish I had never woken up this morning.