Asymptote (bxb)

Chapter 7: To Inebriation... and Beyond

       After school, we ended up on the rocks behind the public pool, a sad looking fire in the fire pit before us, lit from failed tests and forgotten dreams. Not that anyone would actually admit that was what they had thrown in, but I caught a glimpse of a poem as Beatle stuck his flame into them.

       "But here is the real question: truth or dare?" I said with a laugh as I felt the sting of the bourbon I was drinking hit the back of my throat.

       Laughter broke out amongst the group, and Miles knocked his shoulder against mine roughly, saying, "You can't be serious!"

       "It'll be fun, like old times!" I prompted, but Miles simply glared at me. I stared back at him instead of down casting my eyes like I usually would. Thank you, alcohol.

       Trick said something stupid that sparked a discussion, but I just sipped at my drink until I noticed Lake's eyes tracing my face, knowingly. It freaked me out. Maybe Miles and I had become so used to the cluelessness of Beatle and Trick that our displays were obvious, but it's not like he was sitting here with his tongue down my throat- he nudged my shoulder. Nudged, that was it. I felt my cheeks gain colour in the darkness of the night, until Miles's voice, thick with anger, broke me from my self-concern.

       "We're not playing it again," he snapped whilst everyone laughed, except for me.

       "You're just touchy about how it ended last time," Trick teased, causing Miles to go tense and ball his hands into fists.

       The last time was years ago, maybe as many as three. It was the first time Miles and I had kissed- a kiss we would go on to deny the existence of for two years. It was Miles's dare, and it didn't have to be me exclusively. The dare was broad, "someone". He chose me. I didn't see it like that at the time though. At the time, I was the only one openly interested in guys- Beatle hadn't come out as... whatever the hell Beatle was, Trick was (and still is) straight, and there was just me, bisexual Bailey. I was actually offended that he kissed me, as if being bisexual meant I liked all guys, even my friends. Two years later, it became a regular occurrence. I think it was better back then. After we had sex, it was like everything else had faded in importance to Miles. Maybe I was just a hopeless romantic.

       I didn't used to believe in love, and I sure as shit didn't believe in the one. I don't think Miles made me believe in anything, but I think the fact I didn't walk away months ago proved the existence of at least one of them.

       The rest of the night played out like a movie; we drank, Stan showed up and gave us his cop "clear out" speech which then ended in him asking about Beatle's mom, whom it was obvious he was still very much enamoured with, and eventually someone threw up. It was me. I threw up.

       It was after Beatle had left with a very drunk Lake, and Trick had departed to walk the few blocks back to his house, leaving just me and Miles. I had one hand propped up against a tree as I vomited all along its protruding root system. Miles pretended not to notice, continuing to drink as if the sounds of the reappearance of my lunch were as natural as the wind.

       I wasn't even that drunk, and I know that's "exactly what a drunk person would say". Spare me.

       "Wanna come over?" he asked. Because this was clearly a good time.

        I threw up again.

       "Seriously?" I was blunt when I drank.

       "Why not?"

       "I'm throwing up behind a fucking tree."

       "Well... when you're done, obviously."

       I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my school shirt and turned to face him, his face hidden behind a puff of cigarette smoke. He had his legs splayed and one hand resting on his knees. His gaze was trained on his foot, carving patterns into the grass. I sighed.

       "I think I drank too much," I replied honestly, feeling my face burn as I admitted it. I was one of the lucky guys who can't get it up at all when they're drunk. Yeah, I know I just said I wasn't drunk, but sober people don't throw up behind trees so I think we've cleared that up.

       Despite the fact that when I drank I had zero filter and decency, it didn't stop my cheeks from matching my hair. Apparently I still had shame.

       "We don't have to do anything. You can just come over."

       "Is your mom around?" My heart wanted to melt that he wanted me to come over just to be with him, but I was skeptical. Even so, I don't think I could have passed up a night with him,

       He shrugged. I smiled a little.

       "Sure."

       I really needed a toothbrush. That was the only though I had on the really long walk back to Miles's house. I refused to drive or let him drive, because though inebriated, I still enjoyed living. When we passed Carol's Coffee House, I noticed it was bustling with people. I couldn't tell if the guy from last night was there, and I felt weird staring so I quickly pulled my eyes away.

Miles was never much of a talker, and I really wasn't either. It didn't really make for a great pair. The walk was deadly silent, except for the scraping of our leather school shoes on the pavement.

As soon as we turned onto the street it was obvious his mom had left for the night. The car was gone and all the lights were off. The house looked vacant. Miles didn't make a note of it as he pushed the door open and turned on the hall light. She had clearly left in a hurry, leaving shoes thrown aside and jackets on the floor that had fallen from the hooks on the wall.

"Do you have an extra toothbrush?" I asked as soon as I had my shoes off and jacket off.

"Yeah, I'll get it when we go upstairs."

He kicked his shoes off as I weaved past him and up the stairs, grinning down at him from the top as if I had just beat him in some sort of race.

       I really need to stop drinking.

       He smiled a little, following me up the narrow staircase and turning towards a cabinet that was made to store towels, but instead held toiletries. He pulled out a child sized toothbrush shaped like a dinosaur. I laughed as he pushed me towards the bathroom.

       I smoothed my hair down in the mirror as I brushed the metallic taste from my mouth. I was only halfway through when there was a knock at the door. Miles was there, holding a change of clothes.

       "Here. There are even socks, despite how disgusting I think sleeping in them is."

       I didn't try to talk around the toothbrush because I knew how that would end, so I just took the clothes from him and finished brushing my teeth before changing. It was just a plain grey shirt, sweatpants, and white socks.

       He was sitting on his bed cross-legged watching something on the television when I got to his room. I sat carefully next to him, and he instantly changed to the home screen of Netflix.

       "Show or movie?"

       "Show," I answered.

       "Scrubs?"

       "Season nine."

        We didn't do nothing very often. It felt like when I had just met him. Before he convinced me to hide marijuana under my bed and I could only secretly admire him when he wasn't watching.

        I fell back onto his bed as he started the first episode. It was a big bed, bigger than he needed, so it didn't feel weird sleeping in it together. Even when we were just friends. Then again, I'm pretty sure he still thinks of us as 'just friends'.

        He laid back next to me, letting his hand fall onto the middle of my chest, drawing little circles with his thumb that made my skin go numb. That made me feel like he cared about me.

       I looked up at him, but his gaze was fixated on the show. I leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his neck, to which he responded by pulling me closer to him. These were the moments in which I was convinced that he had to love me too. He just had to.