Twenty-Two
Summer
Dad: Everything okay? Papi has been trying to call you.
Waking up in River’s bed isn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, but waking up in his bed with a pounding headache and my throat drier than the Sahara Desert is a little strange.
The room is darker than usual, which is saying a lot because River’s room is typically dimly lit but right now there’s a blanket hung over his window with pushpins. I don’t remember that ever being there but I appreciate it right now.
I lick my lips, trying to bring some moisture back into them, then reach for the glass of water on the bedside table and chug.
I remember going out with Bethany, Ava, and Jeanette.
They snuck me into a club—I remember that.
And then I remember people offering to buy me drinks, with me declining and Bethany encouraging me to have some fun.
That it’s summer and we’re in college and screw my training diet plan.
The next thing I know, I’m back at River’s apartment, not even quite sure how I got here.
Although I highly doubt that any of us were sober enough to drive home last night. I guess River and Moose came to our rescue. I just don’t remember sending out the distress signal in the first place.
Chugging the water apparently wasn’t the smartest move because when I set the glass back down on the side table with a loud thud, my stomach begins to churn.
I press a hand to my mouth, a silent plea for the liquid to remain in my body, but it doesn’t listen.
The covers go flying and my feet hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thump as I sprint to the bathroom.
I all but shove the bathroom door open and drop to my knees, just in time for me to empty out the contents of my stomach into the toilet instead of the floor.
My hair is thankfully braided out of the way but I’m not sure when I had the time to do so last night between my first and third shot.
I don’t usually drink this much. Sure, I like a beer or some fruity drink every now and then, but the idea of getting plastered has never seemed fun to me.
Last night was the exception, I’m guessing.
I just wanted to let go. To rid my mind of trying to search for the next best thing to fix. Guilt was gnawing away last night so apparently I decided to drown it with shots of Fireball and Patrón.
When I finish puking my insides out, I pull away from the toilet and fall back against the wall and onto my butt.
The bathroom light—which usually gets complaints about being dimly lit—is now too bright for my liking.
No more shots for me. I’ll stick to my club sodas. My body is simply just not meant for alcohol. And I’m fine with that. But I would have rather not learned that the hard way.
Now that I’m not preoccupied with throwing up, I’m aware that the shower is most definitely running.
“Feel better?” I hear River’s voice.
I crack one of my eyes open to see him peeking out from behind the shower curtain. Hair all wet and sudsy.
“Sorry.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and I can’t help but cringe at the toilet bowl. “It was an emergency.”
River smiles tenderly. “Let me just rinse this crap out of my hair and I’ll make you some eggs.”
I quickly shake my head, and the movement makes my stomach churn again. “No, thank you. I’ll just die here in peace.”
The thought of eating anything gives me the urge to hunch over the toilet bowl again.
River reaches for me, resting the back of his hand on my forehead. I sigh at the touch. Whether because it’s River that’s touching me or the fact that his hand is cold isn’t something I have the brain capacity to get into right now.
“Don’t die on me yet,” he chuckles and pulls away too soon for my liking.
I remain sitting on the bathroom floor purely because River hasn’t kicked me out yet. But I do go to flush the toilet, not really needing anyone to see that sight, and then lift myself up onto the now closed toilet so I’m not sitting on the hard floor.
Maybe it’s because I don’t feel good. Or maybe I’m losing my mind.
But I take it upon myself to stand up, pull the shower curtain back slightly, and get into the shower with River.
Fully clothed and probably reeking of vomit, but I don’t care.
I wrap my arms around River, resting my cheek on his shoulder.
He doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he rests his hands on top of mine before turning around in my arms to face me. The shampoo is now out of his hair and it’s pushed back from his face.
I start to count the water droplets coating his eyelashes, but when that becomes too tiring for my brain, I bury my face in his neck. I inhale his scent of tea tree oil and coconut, the familiarity of it settling any discomfort my body is feeling right now.
“I don’t feel good,” I state the obvious.
River wraps his arms around my waist and presses his cheek against my temple. “Well, that’s what happens when we down three shots of Patrón.”
“Don’t judge my life choices right now.” I groan. “Just hold me.”
He chuckles against my hair. “I am.”
River continues to hold me under the lukewarm water without letting go once.
He doesn’t tell me that Moose or Bethany could walk in at any second.
Neither of us remind each other that nowhere in our deal does it state that this would be okay.
River uses his fingertips to lightly drum along my spine, humming the lyrics to “My Girl.”
I could get used to this.
I shouldn’t but I could and that is dangerous.
“Dude, why do you have the bathroom door open?” Moose’s voice interrupts our bubble, popping it just as fast as it formed.
River doesn’t hesitate to answer but he also doesn’t bother to let me go. “Summer ran in here to grab something. I think she must’ve just forgotten to close it.”
River squeezes me a little tighter.
“Matthew Creshaw!” Bethany’s groan comes from somewhere in the apartment. If she drank even close to what I did, I’m surprised she’s not in the bathroom throwing up. “I need tea or I’m going to throw up all over your sheets.”
Oh, there it is.
Moose laughs. “My future wife requires my assistance but next time, keep the door shut. No one wants to see that, man.”
The door closes. I feel River chuckle against my skin and I smile against his shoulder.
The room is spinning. My throat is now drier than it was before and I’m sure I might just puke again at some point, but it all seems to be worth it when River is holding me like this.