Thirty two

Katie:

Shot Count: six.

"More!" Katherine clamored, slamming her shot glass on the counter. The barman turned around, setting aside the napkin he was just using to clean, and came to attend to Katherine's order.

Make that the seventh shot of whiskey.

"I…wa— I want vodka." She slurred, changing her order and I immediately faced her with urgency. She has to be kidding me.

Vodka would drive her insane, she's far gone as it is and we should really be getting home. But here she is asking for vodka now? She can't handle it. She can't handle it anymore.

"Katherine, that's enough. You can't have vodka. You've already had six shots of whiskey and this is your first time taking alcohol, you should slow down a bit." I tried to reason with her, but she shook her head vigorously in naught, burping right after.

"You…can't tell me— me what to…do Katie. Katherine wants…vodka, Katherine ge— gets vodka." She snapped back at me, her speech uncoordinated and her own burps interrupting her statement.

I sighed, accepting defeat. There's no way I can win against Katherine who's normally strong-willed, and in this state, she was even more headstrong than usual. So I gave up, hoping she'd be okay.

I shouldn't have allowed her to come to this bar and drink. I don't even know what had inspired this impulse decision of hers to suddenly get drunk. I shouldn't have allowed her to drink this much and get this drunk— but I got carried away with the alcohol and I let Katherine have too much.

"Two please." She smiled at the bartender, showing the number with her fingers. The bartender nodded and went to get the order.

"Katherine please, let's go home." I urged, even though I know it might lead to no avail. It was worth trying.

"Katie, why…are you a mood killer? You're killing all the—" She paused to burp. "—you're killing all the fun." I sighed again pathetically, I have made a big mistake.

The bartender returned with two shots of vodka for Katherine. She collected both with a cheeky grin, "Thank you." She said and passed one to me.

I shook my head, declining. "No, thanks. I've had enough." Anything more than what I've had would knock me over the edge.

She shrugged, "More for me then." She brought it closer to herself and hoisted it up to her lips to take a gulp, but she paused and stared at me.

"They said it gives the throat a good burn. Let's try it out." She smirks and I sigh for the umpteenth time. She swipes the content of the shot glass in one gulp.

I watched her shut her eyes, grimacing as the content slid down her throat, feeling the parchy bittersweet scorch vodka provides.

She snapped her tongue repeatedly with the cringe still present on her face, "It really does burn Katie." She turned to face me, "You really sure…sure you don't want one? It's really great."

"No, Katherine."

She shrugged again, smiling. "More for me then." And she swallowed everything in the second shot glass.

Shot Count: eight.

Meanwhile, I've had just four.

She passed the glasses to the other end of the counter, "More! More! More!" She hollered. "No one— no one, ever told me alcohol was this fucking good! Why— why… didn't you…tell me, Katie?" She turned to face me with furrowed brows. Was she really expecting an answer to that question?

"Katherine, let's go home." I was firm and stern about it. She has had just about enough, any more and it would be detrimental. No way I'd allow her to have any more.

She burst into a loud fit of hysterical laughter. What was so funny? After a moment of laughing alone, she turned to face me and saw that I was unamused, her laughter died down immediately. "Oh? You're being serious?"

"Yes Katherine, I am."

"Why…why would I want to— to go home with you when I'm having so much fun?"

"You have to. You've had enough fun."

She huffed,"I'm not leaving." Katherine stated decisively, folding her arms.

I opened my purse and brought out enough money to cover our twelve shots and a tip for the barman. I dropped it on the counter.

I stood up from my barstool and grabbed Katherine, lifting her up from the stool, and began to drag her away. It was a heavy task, considering her weight and the fact that I was a bit tipsy too.

"Katie let go of me!" She opposed, trying to get herself out of my grip. And I still didn't understand why she was laughing, what's funny?

"Let me go." She protested again, amidst her goofy giggles and laughter.

What the heck?

I was finally able to take her out of the bar and down to the parking lot where my car was parked. I have to get her home, and I have to head home myself. But I'm also drunk, not as drunk as her but drunk enough to be pulled over by the police, and it's not even advisable to drive drunk. And the police wouldn't be happy to find out I wasn't up to twenty–one and drinking.

But we have to get out here somehow. We have school tomorrow.

I stared at Katherine, lying on the floor and resting her head on the tyre of my car. She needs to get home before she gets sick.

And there's only one person I can call for help. I brought my phone out of my pocket and searched for Alexander's number. He'd have to come over and drive us home.

I dialed his number and waited for him to pick me up.

"Shit, I need to puke," Katherine said gagging, and crawled all the way to the nearest bush in sight to hurl out her insides.

Alexander Walters:

I closed my newly purchased textbook and plumped myself onto my bed. I can't believe I have to pass a stupid test just to go further on my quest to fuck Katherine. I even had to buy new fucking textbooks just to read.

I read that textbook for straight two hours, and it's safe to say that I still don't know shit.

I learned nothing, the words were just so much and so boring, I spent most of that two hours fighting sleep and dozing off. So it's safe to say I just stared at the textbook for twenty-five minutes and fought sleep for the remainder.

I was so glad when the alarm rang that signified the end of the two hours. I immediately got on my bed and switched on my phone.

I was about to call Beckham and ask if the match was still going on so I could go watch it with them, but then I saw that I had received a lot of text messages while I was away.

Julia: Hi, Alex. It's been so long, when are you coming over to Netflix and chill again? ;)

Becca: Don't worry Alex, I know you and the team would win the games on Saturday. You all can come to my house for an afterparty, there'll be bikinis and alcohol! ^_^

Samantha: Why are you avoiding me, Alex?

Unknown number: Hi, Ally. It's me, T.

My body froze on reading the text from the unknown number. It was like the whole world stopped and the only thing moving was my racing mind and my rapidly thumping heartbeat.

There's only one person in this entire universe who refers to me as 'Ally', and despite how many times I've told her to quit calling me the stupid nickname, she never listens. And that person is T.

I never thought she'd contact me again after what happened between us so long ago… I thought she hated me, and I still don't know why she decided to. I don't know what I did. My heart bled as I remembered everything that had transpired years back, I didn't need these memories coming back now, I didn't need them at all.

I didn't need her coming back now, I didn't need her return at all.

But why does it still hurt this bad? It's been so long yet the pain feels so fresh and so tangible like it was just yesterday. The pain was brought up again, renewed and awakened and I hated every moment of it.

How did she get my number?

And why did she text me?

What does she want?

I tossed the phone away, not caring where it had landed as the raw pain clenched my heart tightly, I didn't want to see the text again and I never wanted to see or hear the name, T.

The tears were pricking my eyes, I was on the verge of crying. But I have told myself I wouldn't cry over the issue again. It was a long-forgotten matter that happened in the past and was supposed to stay in the past.

But now that it has resurfaced in the present, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore and I allowed them to trickle down my eyes freely.

I stood up from my bed with rage and hurt surging in me.

I paced around the room, thinking of why she had decided to send me a message but I couldn't think of any reason. Maybe because my brain was too scrambled from anything and I had fucking tears streaming down my eyes.

"Fuck!" I yelled, grabbing the flower vase on my bedside table and throwing it at the wall. It shattered into a million pieces at the collision. I stared at the aftermath on the floor; great, the broken fragments mirror exactly what my heart looked like.

"I need a fucking drink," I said, alcohol was my next resort and I grabbed my keys and my phone. I was about to exit the room when I received a call.

I wiped my tears and checked the caller ID.

It was Katie.