friends (rick riley and scott holland)(INDEFINITE HIATUS)

chapter twelve

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chapter twelve: homecoming part two (the fallout)

a/n:

you asked for this

tw(s) — irresponsible underage drinking (please drink responsibly), secondhand embarrassment,  and self-destructive behavior

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Gwen swallows a gag as a second consecutive shot of tequila hits the back of her throat. Tears spring to her eyes as the liquid burns down her throat and her tongue threatens to revolt from her mouth, but that doesn't stop her from slamming her glass back onto the table a little harder than necessary.

"Give me another." She demands, voice wavering from her valiant attempts to not throw up yet again.

Dom, standing directly across the counter from her with a bottle in hand and an unsure expression on his face, glances at Laney, who's hovering behind her.

The homecoming game was almost a loss, saved only by a last-minute point that put the score at a close eight to seven. It started with Rick getting a penalty just seconds after the first puck drop for hitting Brody in the face and setting a precedent. Gwen was forced to sit there for fifty minutes and watch, the world spinning in front of her, as her one-time mistake gave Golden Garden a leg up that they'd never had before. And, despite Alexa and Mindy's insistence that she just clear her mind, she knew that it would've, in some way, been her fault if they lost. The whole student body would have blamed her for it, anyway.

She was the one who fucked their rival hockey captain, and she betrayed their hockey captain and their star goalie in the process.

No matter what happened, it would've traced back to her.

Everyone (and she was so sure of this that she could've said it in front of a judge) kind of hated her, now.

Rick and Scott, who wouldn't speak to her, hated her now——

And that, to be honest, is the worst part of it all.

"Just—— I want to do another shot." Gwen says again, her words hoarse, now. "Please?"

With another wary glance in Laney's direction, Dom pours her a third shot.

The party is in a house that she doesn't recognize the outside of, but Gwen can't care less.

They arrived fashionably late, as they usually do, and she made an immediate dash for the back of the house, hoping to lose herself in a sea of kids who were a little too far gone to realize that the persona non grata was amongst them.

Fortunately for her, bottles were already open and beer was already being distributed, and Dom, with the pretty eyes and the hero complex, had the tequila.

Unfortunately for her, though, Dom, with the sad eyes and the huge crush on her, is reluctant to let her get totally wasted.

"Y'know," He says, fingers drumming against the marble countertop as she coughed into the hand that wasn't holding an empty shot glass out to him expectantly, "maybe I should cut you off here."

"You're not a bartender. A few shots of tequila won't leave me wrecked."

"Yeah, but you're going to barf."

"What do you know about me and my barf?"

"That's the exact same face you made after we had sex." Dom deadpans, clutching the bottle close to his chest and away from her. "I'm, like, ninety percent sure that you're about to vomit."