Dean Gastright: FUCK IM DRUNK
Dean Gastright: But everything I’m saying is true, ok? And everything Jon is saying. Bon Jon Jvovi scooped my thoughts of you out of my brains and sang them all in this song
My hands shake as I quickly Google the lyrics, and I almost cry as I read them. Because if this is how he feels about me…
I feel weak at the knees.
I’m wide awake now. Clearly he is thoroughly inebriated, but this isn’t a lie. This is him speaking to me with his guard down and his inhibitions gone. I can barely get my head around that.
Like an open space where I can maybe finally breathe again…
I want to see him. I want another hug, and to breathe him in, soak in as much of the unfiltered, uncensored Dean Gastright as I can before he retreats back to his sober comfort zone. I make to grab my keys, but then I pause. If he sent that at… I check the post… Ten p.m, he’s going to be too incoherent for us to talkif he’s even still awake. My guess is that he’s out cold, heading straight for hangover town.
And besides, I’d need to wake Em up in order to know where to go; I think she said that she and Eli live downstairs from him. She’s sleeping so peacefully that I’d feel bad if I disturbed her.
So, despite a raging desire to run to him and wrap my legs around his waist and kiss every inch of his face, I decide it’d be better to wait until tomorrow.
This leaves me much too excited to even contemplate going back to sleep, so I pull up a stool at my breakfast nook and settle back down to reread the post and the song lyrics, again and again, while anticipating how the first touch of his lips against mine is going to feel.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dean
Iswear to god, if I open my eyes I’ll rip my eyelids apart like tissue paper and bleed to death.
And my mouth tastes like ass. Almost like I crawled out of my own grave still spitting out the dirt.
I think someone tried to murder me with an axe to the head before I was buried. And once again, my body just refused to die, and has left me to deal with what’s left of it.
I hold my splitting forehead together and take a few deep breaths to calm my roiling stomach. I am never drinking alcohol again. Ever. I’m pretty sure I drank enough Jose Cuervo to cure my liking for it for the rest of my life, and, now the weird sense of invincibility it gave me has faded, it’s definitely not worth it.
I risk cracking open one eye. The light hurts, but I can see I’m in my own bedroom, at least, and not piled on Leo’s sofa or under one of his hedges. I guess Eli saw me home. I sure as shit don’t remember getting here. I close my eyes again because everything is too damn bright, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up again because I can hear my door opening. Quietfootsteps creep carefully towards me, and something is placed on my night stand. A gentle hand smooths my sweaty hair back from my face.
“Eli gave me the spare key,” Em whispers to me. “There’s a pint of water and two ibuprofen next to you. Have both as soon as you can. And this,” something rustles and makes me wince at the razor sharp noise, “oops, sorry, is a McDonald’s breakfast bagel. No egg, the way you like it. It’s a magic hangover cure, I promise.” Her footsteps retreat towards the door. “Hope you feel better, sweetie.”
I can smell the sausage pattie and the bacon in the bagel, and to my surprise my dry mouth starts to water and my stomach growls with hunger rather than revulsion. Thank god she left out the egg. If I feel even slightly unwell, eggs will make me want to toss my cookies, and I don’t need any more encouragement there.
I grope for the glass of water and take a cautious sip, relieved when it’s obvious it’ll stay down. Once I’ve taken the painkillers and drained the glass, I risk a bite of breakfast, and it is indeed a magic cure because I’m on the road to feeling more human by the time I finish it. Human in that Lurch fromThe Addams Familywas still vaguely human, but at least I’m no longer dying.
And even in Lurch mode, I can still be acleanmess, so I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower. The mint refreshes my mouth, and it’s a relief to be drenched by the hard spray of hot water, washing away the grime and residue of last night. The briefest of flashes start coming back to me: the soothing burn of the booze, the amazing burger sauce, the music…
…themusic…
…telling Eli how awesome Liaden is and how much I like her, and…Ohhhhhhh fuck.
I didn’t.
Tell me I fucking didn’t.
Roughly rinsing off the last of the soap and shampoo, I race out of my bathroom, not even bothering with a towel and shivering with what feels like a cold sweat, I pull my cell out of my jeans pocket.
Oh, shitting HELL.
So many reacts in my notifications. Because I posted a YouTube video ofIn These Arms. OnLiaden’s goddamn page. Right on her profile, and I tagged her for good measure.
Oh, and let’s not forget the comments I made. Alltwelveof them.
This is the song I would sing you if my voice wasn’t fucked…
