"Ah," I say with a nod, finally seeing the predicament.
"Yeah," she said, watching me.
"Well, we could probably manage to be in the same house for an hour or so. I don't know, honestly, he's the one you would have to ask, he's the one with the problem."
"He may not even show," she reasoned. "He usually blows things like this off."
"Especially once he finds out I'll be there," I added with a nod.
Steph decided to have the party, and she told me I could invite Andy, but I knew before I asked him that he wouldn't be interested. There would be alcohol for sure, possibly even a little bit of weed, and Andy didn't go for parties like that. Honestly, he probably didn't even approve of me going, he just knew better than to say so.
My own father was the one who agreed to get the alcohol for us as long as we gave him the money. He wasn't very parental in general, but since he had had started drinking much younger than we were, it didn't seem to bother him. In fact, he’d always found it a little strange—and I suspect he didn't actually believe me—when I claimed I had never had alcohol before. I hadn't, but Steph asked me while we were planning the party if I would have a couple drinks with her at the party since I was staying the night anyway. Since I had never tried it and it seemed safe enough, I agreed.
The night of the party rolled around before we knew it. We were both excited as we set up bowls of chips, dips, cheese, crackers and other assorted snack foods. In an attempt to keep her house unbroken, we decided to put away anything valuable or breakable before anyone else got there, and Steph set up the guest room for me.
Of course Derek Noble arrived with his friend rather than Kayla, and he decided to show up an hour late, because he was just that special.
Kayla arrived on time, so as soon as Derek got there she went running over to his side, her white and silver strapless top flattering her fake-tanned skin and her dark brown hair, which fell straight down her back like a waterfall.
I had to admit, as much as I disliked Derek—and didn't truly care much for Kayla either—they made a beautiful couple.
By the time Derek got there I had already finished two drinks, so I was pretty happy with the world; even his presence didn't bother me. He seemed a little let down when he came over to sarcastically say, "Hi, Nikki," knowing that it annoyed me, and I simply smiled, held up my bottle and said pleasantly, "Hi, Derek. Enjoying the party?"
He frowned at me, as if my pleasant attitude had ruined his mood, and murmured, "No, but I will be once I've had a drink."
As the ni
ght passed by I had two more drinks, and by the time I finished those and whatever shot that last kid convinced me to try, I could barely stand up, let alone walk straight.
Poor Andy called, but I didn't notice until I felt my phone vibrate later alerting me of a missed the call. He was definitely in bed by the time I got it, so I didn't bother calling back.
The party started to wind down, and I told everyone with a giggle that I thought it was time for me to begin my dangerous trek up the stairs, but someone shoved a drink into my hand, telling me I hadn't finished it. I thought I had finished my last drink, but I took their word for it, taking the drink and not even realizing it was Derek who handed it to me.
I might not have noticed anyway, because for the first time ever, he was being nice to me.
When I finished that half empty bottle, I couldn't even make it over to the garbage can to throw the bottle away. I tried, but I fell, and luckily Derek was there to come to my rescue and pick me back up, throwing the bottle away for me and gently guiding me toward the stairs as I laughed at nothing.
"Mm, you know, you're nice," I told him pleasantly, leaning against him so he would support some of my weight.
"Oh yeah, I'm a regular boy scout," he responded, wrapping his arm around my waist.
For some stupid reason, this made me giggle.
“Watch your step,” he advised as we approached the top of the stair case.
I thought it was awfully nice of him to walk me right to my door, and being a bold, outspoken drunk, I had no problem telling him so. I helped him find my guest bedroom, opened the door, and thanked him again for helping me up the stairs, but he just put his hand on the small of my back and prompted me to walk inside.
"I think I can take it from here," I said with a little wink.
The door closed behind him with a decisive click.
After watching him lock the door, I simply flopped down on the bed and made some ridiculous remark about how limber I was when I was drunk. To demonstrate, I raised my leg up and put my foot behind my ear, then I giggled, dropping my foot, and just stared up at the ceiling, feeling absurdly happy for no apparent reason.
Derek smiled, taking a seat beside me on the bed.
When I think of this night, I only allow myself to think past that moment as a blur. A big, drunken blur. I do remember much of it, but don’t relish admitting that.
I remember that although I'm not sure how or when I got off the bed, I did. For some reason I had the overwhelming desire to dance, to let loose, and I did, even though there was no music. My dancing was only for him, and I know I ended up in his lap, because I remember sitting there, taking out his pony tail, telling him that his hair was sexy as I ran my fingers through his golden locks.