Chapter 20: "Absinthe Makes The Heart Grow Fonder"

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Monday, December 31st

A pretzel hits the side of my head, ricocheting off and landing on the couch. I turn to glare at Connor, but he sets down his bowl to raise his hands in surrender. My scowl turns into a snicker when I see the rainbow bracelet on his arm, surrounding by black ones. They clash with his Totoro shirt, which I finally convinced him to wear.

"I'm not going to be home until tomorrow afternoon, so please behave," Mom says wearily, back turned to us as she ties her shoes.

"Yes Mom," I sigh, stealing a pretzel from Connor, who frowns at me like he didn't just throw one at me.

"Don't 'yes Mom' me, I'm looking out for you," she says, looking back at me exasperated.

"I know, and I appreciate it."

"Connor, are you spending the night?" Mom asks, turning around just in time to see me throw a pretzel at him. I smile innocently.

"That's the plan," Connor answers politely as if he didn't just attack me.

"Okay. I know you're an adult and can make your own decisions, and you're not my child, so if you say no I can't stop you, but can I please have your keys?" She holds her hand out, and Connor glances at me.

"What?"

"You're going to be drinking, right?" she asks, and we both act like it's our job to look as suspicious as possible. I start coughing, and Connor tenses and starts spluttering,

"Wha- I- that-" Mom looks between the two of us, amused.

"I'm not stupid, I was a teenager once too. Besides, I work at a hospital. The ER gets flooded with drunks on New Years Eve. I'm not going to stop either of you. All I ask is that you don't die of alcohol poisoning and don't leave the house," she says. Silently, Connor fishes the keys to Zoe's cars out of his pocket and drop them into Mom's still-waiting hand. She smiles.

"Thank you. Be responsible, be safe, I love you, I will see you tomorrow. Good bye," she calls, and neither of us move until we hear her car engine start.

"Your Mom's so cool," Connor sighs, reaching for another pretzel and frowning when he finds it empty.

"I guess." I grab the empty bowl from his lap, ignoring his noise of protest, and put it in the sink.

"My parents would have killed me if they found out that I was drinking," he says. I laugh.

"And yet you still do it."

"And yet I still do it. Speaking of drinking, I'll be right back." He darts up the stairs. I take his spot on the couch, and a moment later he comes back with two bottles, holding them over his head victoriously.

"Two bottles of tequila," he announces, flourishing them. I grab one, and read the label.

"Two bottles? Aren't your parents gonna realize that they're missing?" I ask.

"Didn't get them from my parents. I got them from my old dealer," Connor says, sitting where I sat a few moments ago. He looks up when I don't say anything, and catches my disappointed gaze.

"What? I don't go to him anymore. Y'know, I specifically said 'old dealer'," he defends. I just roll my eyes, and return to inspecting the label.

"Well, I have Sprite if we want to make cocktails," I offer.

"I like the way you think," Connor grins.

"It's only 9. What do you want to do?"

"Get hammered." He unceremoniously opens the bottle and drinks it. Immediately, he starts coughing, but he pulls away with a smile.

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