I guess it came from Kentucky. When will I learn to say “No” to whiskey? Ugh. Mark slipped the flask back in his pocket. I wasn’t sure if I was going to retch, so I set my red cup next to Katie on the railing and quickly went inside to find the toilet.
The party was in the backyard with the keg on the deck, but the bathroom was inside, naturally. I slurped some water from the tap and checked myself in the mirror. My tummy settled down.
It wasn’t until after I came out of the bathroom that I heard grunting noises coming from an open door to a bedroom.
“Hello?” I called out, stepping over a spilled red cup.
“Angel? Is that you?”
I recognized his voice. Brett Hammond. Not only his voice, but also he is also the only one that calls me Angel. His one constant last year had been flirting with me – every time he saw me. Whether walking the hallways between classes, or weekend parties like this one, it was always the same: There’s my Angel, with a smile. I didn’t mind of course, he was my boyfriend then. My first.
Although I knew I was drunk, I didn’t realize he was drunk, too. I should not have been alone with him.
“Where are you?” I stepped into the dark room, my shadow crept up the bed and I could make out his figure. He sat on the edge of the mattress. His elbows braced on his knees, he was hunched over and rubbing his head. As he swayed, the chains from his wallet clinked like a wind chime. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he tried to stand, but staggered. He reached behind, feeling for the bed and I helped him sit again.
“I stumbled coming out of the bathroom. I think I hit my head on the door frame.” He pointed at the door I had just come through.
By instinct, I moved to him as if he were a little kid and had just fallen off his bike and needed a bandage.
“Where does it hurt?”
“Here.” He ran his finger through his hair, just above the ear. I reached out. He tilted his head away and guided my fingers to a raised spot above his ear.
I was surprised at how his touches made me feel. His fingers were warm and gentle, moving my fingers through his hair. It took me a second to snap out of it.
“You want me to get you some ice?” I asked.
“Naaah,” he exhaled.
“Could you have a concussion?” I asked.
He just looked up at me, standing over him. The light from the hallway was silhouetting my form. His eyes seemed to trace the entire glowing outline of my body.
“Maybe I died, because all I see is my Angel.”
His hand slid up to my wrist and he tugged me to the bed next to him. I wiggled in objection, but he eased me back on the mattress.