Contradictions [SMUT] - Part II

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"Nah, man. She was so fucking hot. I mean, did you see her grinding up against Everett last night? Shiiit. Lucky bastard."

I huffed a forced chuckle into my bedroom air, rolling a burning cigarette between my two fingers as I lifted it up to my lips and took a deep drag. My mind tried scrambling for pieces of intoxicated memories from the party I snuck off to last night, but only found flashes of glow sticks on heads bobbing to the deafening music, unfamiliar hands tugging him and touching him everywhere in the crowd like suffocating vines, and my head angled over a dirty toilet, vomiting up the whole night vigorously. With blurred glimpses into that sickening night, there was no memory of the brunette chick he was droning on about.

"Yeah, yeah I remember," I responded, effortlessly covering up my pointless lie. My body ached for sleep, and the more satisfactory remarks and insight I practically spoon fed to that guy I could consider my 'bestie' would hopefully get him to shut up. "Really hot. Yeah... Hey, what's your name again?"

"You son of a bitch," he laughed loudly into the speaker. I winced slightly at the volume breaking the microphone's sound barrier. "I know you better than to think you've forgotten me. Bro, you were basically latched onto me last night by my fucking neck. Did all of those parties we've hosted in the Highlands mean nothing to you?"

I chuckled at his fake sobbing through the phone and rolled over on my stomach on my bed. "I was joking, Isaac. Of course I remember your famous sapporo shotguns and contraband stash you always keep in your briefs."

"Amen, Y/N. I save lives, not catering money."

"Hm. Maybe one day, when you're old and homeless on the side of the street, you'll think to yourself, 'Hey, maybe I regret giving Y/L L/N the goods that one time-'"

"Hey! I live in the moment, you fucker. I'd take my life to give my friend whatever he wants."

"Says the same guy that promised me a ride from Katy's but found him passed out with a naked Marcee Banks in the basement." The vivid memory of tangled and exposed limbs never failed to give me tendencies to choke myself with my blazer tie. Though, I was out of luck, for I could be found groaning into a phone in reaction to my friend's commentary in only my boxers.

Shuffling commenced from the other side of the call; he must've been laying down in the bed as well. "It was that one time! You really need to get over the grudge. It'll give you white hair," he drawled, his Russian accent thick in that moment. He could practically have seen him roll his black eyes and drag a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

"So you won't be the odd one out?" I teased, positioning my drug between pursed lips.

"Shut up before I drive over to your daddy's mansion and beat your ass six feet under!" He cackled, and was accompanied by mine in a chorus of our obnoxious teasing, until it eventually died down to a comforting silence. "Um, so Y/N... Last night, after you gave, uh, that Dray dude a blowjob in front of everyone, you told me what happened with your guy. So he knows now?"

My E/C eyes widened in a quiet panic, and my blood froze to sharp blades of ice. Of course, my drunken self decided to burst out in sobbing fits as I dragged Isaac to a nearby bathroom, throwing my body over his back and clinging onto him as I admitted my careless mistake I committed was caught like a deer before an approaching car. I remembered the tears and snot splattered on my face in a mark of vulnerability and sensitivity I have never shown anyone before. It felt gross, like I spilt my whole guts out to him like a teenage girl with a caffeine addiction before I threw up all over the pink tinted tiles after. But, despite his unfocused eyesight and slurred speech, he still rested a hand on his back and reassured me of the better. I knew it was a pretense of the brighter side, but I still took whatever positivity I could at that point.

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