Chapter 14

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JOHN PAUL

I feel something wet dripping on my face.

I wipe at it, only to feel it again. I open one eye and see Joey standing over me, grinning while tipping a water bottle.

"Get up, or I'll dump the whole thing on you."

I groan and sit up, right away regretting it. "Argh!" My head starts pounding harshly.

"Dude, you look like shit. Go get in the shower," Joeys says while grabbing a piece of fruit from a food tray on my bed, and pops it in his mouth.

"Why are you in here...eating in my room?" I fall back on the bed, rubbing the sides of my head, trying to remember why I thought it was a good idea to drink last night.

Then the image of Charmaine, in that silk camisole, looking amazing against her olive complexion and those tight jeans, walking out the door with Vince, pops in my head.

Now I remember.

I had finished a bottle of Rum that was about half empty and was almost finished with a second bottle when she finally came home.

"This is your food, actually," Joey says as he continues to pick at the fruit.

"You brought me food? Why?"

"I didn't. I came in to see why you blew me off last night and saw Charmaine sneaking out of your room this morning."

Charmaine? Was she in here? I look over on the nightstand and see some Advil with another water bottle and a piece of paper next to it. I grab the paper:

"Take me and drink me" A smiley face is drawn next to it.

"So, what happened? You never get drunk, well, not without reason. That's my job." He crosses his arms, staring down at me.

"Nothing, I just wanted to drink."

"Bullshit."

"I don't want to talk about it, alright?" I stand up quickly—too quick. Fuck! I'm never doing this again.

My head is pulsating, and then the overwhelming urge to vomit hits me. I rush to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet. I start to sweat as everything in my stomach is being expelled, and it feels like it's never going to end.

"I'm telling you, man; no girl is worth the shit you're putting yourself through."

"Shut.. the fuck...up, Joe." I sputter out in between dry heaving.

"Fine, come find me in the gym when you're done being a vagina."

"No one says vagina," I groan.

"I do; it's funnier than calling you a pussy!" He yells out before I hear my bedroom door shut.

When I finally finish throwing up, I force myself to get up and get in the shower. I leave the temperature colder than usual because it feels good on my burning skin.

I groan and rest my head against the cool tile. I should have just told her how I felt while watching her trace the tattoo that I got for my mom. But then she leaned in to kiss my face, and I couldn't stop myself.

We had kissed each other once before when we were younger. I remember wiping my mouth afterward like an idiot and laughed with her. We promised each other we would never do it again.

But the truth is, I've wanted to do it again ever since that day.

And now, remembering how soft her full lips felt as I pressed mine to hers and hearing her soft gasp in surprise—I feel myself getting hard. The haze from all the alcohol I drank lifted as I kissed her.

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