gloves | vinnie hacker

8.

Naomi Montana

The music in the house overpowered any chance of me hearing any of the conversations that carried on around me. The taste on my tongue and the spinning room around me was signalling me that maybe that lemonade Harry gave me wasn't as non alcoholic as we both thought. The way this liquor was making me feel, it wasn't surprising that so many people enjoyed partying and getting plastered every weekend.

I had lost Colton around my second or third bottle, I was only slightly tipsy but obviously drunk enough to realize what I was even drinking. I assumed he was probably somewhere hanging out with his football friends anyway, so I decided not to dwell so much on it.

I stumbled around the living room, bottle number 6 sitting comfortably in my hand. The pink liquid swung back in forth in it, threatening to spill over but not quite getting there.

I slumped into the long deep brown colored couch, a sigh escaping my lips as I had officially realized I was a little too drunk to be standing right now. I took another swig of my bottle deciding to finish off the remaining liquid in one go, before gently placing it near my feet on the floor.

I always considered myself an observant person, I liked watching people and observing them. Their body language, their facial expressions, the way the speak, or their demeanor in general. A person's biggest tell is their own body, kind of ironic right?

As I sat quietly to myself, I watched the people around me. Some dancing to the beat of some catchy Top 40s song, some passed out in the corner on the floor with dried throw-up on the corners of their lips. Others engaging in what looks like the most intense game of beer pong I had ever witnessed, and a few more if not all, intoxicated with weed or liqour or even both. Although many people would look like they're having fun in the service, their bodies were singing a different melody.

Cherry and Harry, (HA! That rhymed) were no where to be found and I was not surprised even the slightest bit. I figured they were somewhere around here chatting it up or maybe not even doing much talking at all. If you catch my drift.

As the night carried on around me I could feel my self becoming more and more sleepy. My limbs and eyelids felt heavier than usual, and my neck could hardly hold my head up anymore. Usually, if I was in the right state of mind, I'd take my car and go knock out in my outrageously comfortable bed. But I was drunk, and in that moment nothing felt more comfortable than the coffee toned couch that I was sat on.

I slipped off my flip flops and brought my knees to my chest and my hands ot the side of my head. The tumultuous tunes hardly stopped me from drifting off to sleep, as everything faded into background noise along with all my thoughts. I guess my parents dragging me to all those loud family parties when I was younger prepared me for this moment.

Looking back now, I know that drunkenly passing out while half naked on a couch of a practical stranger's home was not my brightest moment.

But when you're drunk, every bad decision feels like a good one.

-

"Shh! She's sleeping, you're gonna wake her!"

My body felt limp, and from the strong hold I felt around me, it was obvious that I was no longer on the couch from before. Whoever was around me was doing a horrible job at trying to stay quiet, I was already awake. They just didn't know it yet.

"Don't you think the City Girls song they're blasting would've done that already? Don't be an idiot."

"Maybe she's dead."