School of Thought

Nathanial:

My eyes widened, her lips were soft against mine.  I waited a second longer than I should have before I pushed her away.  She was drunk after all, she didn’t know what she was doing…  

Nathanial:

“Oh crap.”  I muttered.  Several people dodged out of the way and made disgusted sounds.  “Come on,” I got up and put an arm around her waist.  “Lets get you to the bathroom.” 

Nathanial:

I pulled her along with me, hoping she could hold on until I got her to the toilet.  I knocked on the bathroom door then opened it.  There was a gasp, a curse, and a sound of surprise as the couple inside had been interrupted.  The guy turned his back to the door quickly before I could see anything and there was the sound of him zipping up his pants.  The girl had her shirt on the floor next to her and she was scrambling up from her knees.  She grabbed her shirt to cover her vivid blue bra. 

“Get out.”  I said in annoyance, supporting Felicia around her waist.  They both fled the bathroom in giggles.  

Nathanial:

I closed the door and locked it, unlike the couple before had.  Everyone at this party seemed to be drunk, or high, or both.  Sighing, I crouched down next to her and rubbed her back while I held her hair with one hand.  

Nathanial:

“You’re okay.  Don’t be sorry.  It happens.  It’s happened to my sister a hundred times.”  I told her.  This was not the first girl whose hair I held back while they threw up.  

Nathanial:

I blinked at her.  “Oh…  I don’t think you are going to get me sick…”  Had this never happened to her before?  Did she not actually realize that she was drunk?

Nathanial:

I didn’t quite know what to make of her words.  I just rubbed her back gently.  “You’re going to feel better tomorrow.”  I told her, instead of responding to what she was saying.  

Nathanial:

I looked around.  There was a solo cup left by one of the people who had been in here before.  I dumped the brightly colored contents out in the sink and rinsed it with hot water before filling it up with cold water and handing it to her.  

Nathanial:

“How are you feeling?”  I asked her, sitting on the countertop to look down at her.  

Nathanial:

I watched her carefully, stilling my fidgeting when she pressed her face against my leg.  “You’re drunk.”  I said simply.  

Nathanial:

“Intoxicated.  When you’ve had too much alcohol.  You were drinking that punch all night weren’t you?  There was an entire bottle of vodka in each bowl they made.”  I told her.  “You didn’t know what you were drinking?”  I asked, frowning down at her. 

Nathanial:

I sighed deeply and ran a hand through my hair.  “Vodka is the reason you feel the way you do.  Vodka is alcohol.  Vodka makes you intoxicated, which you are.”  I explained in a flat tone.  I couldn’t believe whoever brought her here had let her drink unsupervised.