Ryan

Chapter 5

Ryan
•  •  •

The rest of the week continues about the same as my first day except Nixon is driving me crazy times ten now. It's like since he knows he's getting to me; he has to push me as far as I can go until I can't take it anymore.

3:00 AM Thursday morning he stumbles into our dorm room drunk off his ass, without a care in the world as he makes as much noise as he can. The light turns on and I squeeze my eyes shut tight. No, no, no! Please go back to sleep, I beg.

"Mama told me when I was young! She said sit beside me, my only son! And listen closely to what I say!" he belts out the lyrics to Simple Man at the top of his lungs.

"Nixon will you please shut up!" I groan, shoving my pillow over my head to help muffle the noise and block out the light.

"Be a simple kind of man! Be something you love and understand!" he continues his serenade.

I toss my pillow at his face and he hits the floor, his coordination lacking in his inebriated state. He starts laughing like falling on the floor is the funniest thing in the world. I sit up and look down at his chuckling form and shake my head. He's a mess. His hair is everywhere, his face hasn't been shaved giving him a rough unkept look, and his clothes are disheveled. I don't even want to think about what got them that way either.

"Nixon are you okay?" I ask sincerely as I question whether or not I knocked something important loose in his head.

He stops laughing and sits up, staring at me with a vulnerable look swimming in his dark blue eyes. My chest aches as all I see is pain—deep, dark, agonizing pain.

"I fucked up, I really fucked up," he mutters drunkenly, running his fingers through his hair to push the strands out of his eyes.

What could he possibly have done to push him to this extent? Singing about being a simple man and completely drunk off his ass.

"What did you do?" I ask.

Instead of letting me in he decides to go back to the song. "All that I want for you my son, is to be satisfied and be a simple kind of man!" he belts out.

I wish I was able to say he has a good voice but no, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Awful! I definitely wouldn't sign up for American Idol if I were him, that's for sure.

I toss back my blanket and slip out of the warm comfort of my bed with a sigh. I grab his arm and try my best to pull him up but damn the guy is freaking heavy.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he slurs.

"Nixon please just get into bed," I huff and release my hold on him.

He lies back down with a frown on his face. "I am in bed."

"Okay, if I cover you up will you go to sleep?" I ask slowly as if I'm talking to a child. Sometimes drunk people have to be babied so the comparison makes sense.

He shrugs so I take that as a yes and jerk the duvet off his bed before placing it over him. He grabs my pillow I tossed at his face and cuddles up to it, resting his head on the cold floor and within seconds he's snoring. My eyelids droop at the sound so I shut the light off, take the pillow from his bed, and crawl back into my own. I didn't think I would be able to sleep through his snoring but as soon as I shut my eyes I'm out.

• • •

"What the fuck!" I wake up to my pillow being jerked away abruptly.

I quickly rub the sleep from my eyes and glare at Nixon. "What's your problem?"

"What's my problem? What's your problem! Why are you using my pillow?" he yells.