The Pack Slut

Thirteen- The Truth Hurts

I was slightly buzzed when I heard a knock at my door.

"Pause it, I don't want to miss anything!" I yell at Mai and she laughs before complying. I jump to my feet and sway a little bit.

I didn't think I was that drunk, I giggle to myself and stumble over to my door.

"Who is it?" I call out and burst into a fit of giggles. Mai holds her sides and laughs with me.

"Are you drunk?" I hear Damon's voice on the other side of the door.

Well shit.

"Sorry I don't know that person," I almost fall on the floor so I lean against the door. Mai is still howling with laughter behind me on my bed. I hope she doesn't knock my laptop off the bed.

"Lenora, open the door," Damon's voice is soooooo sexy. I place a hand against the door frame. I want to open it but I know that he'll be pissed when he sees how hammered I am.

"I swear it was only one bottle," Mai laughs and holds up a second bottle next to her arm. "Okay, two bottles."

"I'm not mad, I just want to see if you are okay."

Pansy.

I sigh and open the door anyways, "hey, handsome." I mean for my words to sound sexy but they come out slurred.

Damn it, why are there so many Damons standing in my door way?

Damon glares at me to contradict what he said about not being mad and he storms into my room.

"Maika, why the hell are you two getting drunk? It's barely 6 o'clock!" Damon growls at my friend but she looks unaffected.

"Damn, is it really 6 already?" Mai pushes my laptop off her lap and rolls of my bed—quite literally. Her legs shakily rise beneath her and she grips my bed stand to keep from falling on her face. "Woah, I drank more than I expected."

Damon sighs and rubs his hand over his face looking like a sexy hot model. I really just wanna kiss his face and run my fingers over—

"I'll take you to your room; Lenora stay here."

I sigh and plop down on my bed and wait for Damon to come back. I stare at my white ceiling and try to picture how mad he's gonna be when he gets back. I can't help but laugh at the image of Damon pouting like a sad puppy because he can't get his way.

After a few minutes, Damon returns. He closes my door behind him and sits on my bed silently. We sit there—not saying anything—so that only the sounds of our breathing fill the room.

I finally can't take it anymore and I sit up, a little too fast. I grip Damon's shoulder to steady my blurry vision before I open my mouth to speak, "we were just having fun. I didn't mean for it to get out of hand or anything."

Damon doesn't turn to look at me and stares straight ahead with eyes that look far away. I poke his shoulder and he turns to look at me slowly.

"I'm not mad," he says and I squint my eyes at his response.

"You look mad," I fire back and Damon sighs and runs a hand down his face again. "You look madder than my mother when I wore this really short skirt to school back in the fall and she was really mad then but I thought I looked hot so—"

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Lenora. I don't want you to drink anymore," he cuts off my drunk rambling and stands up from my bed. I don't know why anyone would want to leave this comfy bed.

"You can't tell me what to do," I say, completely stunned that he would even try. I lean back on my arms and try to focus my eye sight on one of Damon's many blurry heads.