Pent up

Is this what you wanted?

The next 30 minutes of my life are a blur.

It doesn't take us long to find the drinks table after stumbling into the fourth floor, rooms are quite small and everyone is gathered around drinking already, I drag Cris to the the bottles lining the kitchen counters, blindly chose one, pouring two shot glasses and chug one. The taller one hesitates, but then chugs one as well and the rest of the night becomes a confusing and hot mess from there.

Shot after shot I lose myself in the burn of the alcohol and the hand that rests on my back, reassuring me and encouraging me, steading me as I drink instead of running to the bathroom to cry, to let my fear out and instead relax with friends after the difficult and scary thoughts that had been plaguing my mind.

We stay clear of the other room, where the games are hooked up, hollers and people screaming mingling with the sounds of various games, and where we know Diego, Martin and Clara are at, instead hiding out on dark corners and casually stepping up to the kitchen to drink another shot, that was until the joy of the confortable buzz of being shitfaced was quickly dispelled by the shriek that reached my ears.

"Josh!" Clara was suddenly here, red faced and hands on her hips, a very well known mom pose she would use when she scolded me "What are you doing!"

She steps up to us, Martin on tow, and snatches the empty glass from my fingers. She sniffs it, and grimaces at the smell of vodka.

"Drinking, can't you tell?" I snort, my drunk brain more interested on being straightforward and sassy than dispelling her anger and not making a scene.

Cris makes a face at my response, amused or grimacing, I can't tell.

I stare at his face instead of turning back to the very angry Clara that is still talking, but I don't listen, trying to decipher what he's thinking, investigating his features and pulling faces to get him to step up and help me, he urgently shakes his head and moves his lips but suddenly Clara's face comes up between us.

"Are you listening to me?!" She waves her arms around and huffs "Why are you drinking, why didn't you come find us?"

"I'm drinking because I want to, Clara!" I say, a lot more harshly than I intend, and my hand quickly moves to cover my mouth, ashamed that I would ever shout like that to anyone.

"You know I don't like it" She puts her hands on my chest and pushes me back on the wall "Why didn't you tell me?"

But the shame doesn't last long, as it again turns to anger, at her words and her actions "So what? I like it, and I don't need to tell you every little thing"

At this point Martin has dragged Cris away a few feet, they're talking with their backs to us, and I can't help the way my eyes follow them. God, I wish I could go take him away, but she's still holding me down and talking too close to my face for comfort.

"Don't yo remember the party? You got weird and I need to take care of you so it won't happen again"

Oh, do I remember that party

"You mean I get gay, that's what you're saying"

Her eyes get wide as saucers, the litral definition of deer caught in headlights.

"What?!"

"You're mad I kissed Diego and Phil than one time"

I can feel the smug way my lips turn upwards despite my better judgment, but I can't stop it.

"Woah, dude!" Diego says, when did he get here? Was he here the whole time?, and punches my arm "It was spin the bottle and it was gross, don't try and drag me into this fight"