Fuck, did I try to fight Asher? We’d been messing around in the car. Did my drunk ass misconstrue things later on and try to do something?
Shit.
I rolled off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud. I was alone, so I guess I didn’t get lucky. Asher was right again.
And, yes, I did piss myself the last time we got wasted, but he didn’t need to keep bringing it up!
Did I piss myself last night? Did he say something, and did I react too roughly?
I was in a bad way. The feeling that I needed to go to Asher and do something was palpable, but I didn’t know what. Dread consumed me as my mind raced with all the ways I could have fucked up my friendship with him. The thought of losing Asher as a buddy filled me with panic. I’d swear off drinking for good if that happened. Red was my ride or die, and I’d never forgive myself if I did something to him.
Pale, blue walls closed in on me as I lookedabout the bedroom for a towel to wrap around my naked body. I made my way to the closet, and that dreadful feeling grew more intense. It hit me like a kick to the ribs, knocking the wind out of me. The closet meant something, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what.
I went to turn on a light, but what happened was Rowan’s clothes moving around like I was in a fucking haunted house! The shock of it startled me so that I fell backwards, landing on my ass. Pain shot up my back as I cursed that deathtrap of a bedroom.
I have to get the fuck out of here.
Apparently, Rowan didn’t like towels because I couldn’t find one. The dude had a robot closet but no towels? I tore the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around my waist.
The moment I opened the door, the smell of sweat, sex, booze, and maybe piss smacked me across the face.
Forget a cleanup crew, Rowan is gonna need to fumigate this place.
As I made my way to the stairs, my big ass body swayed to the right, and I knocked a painting off the wall, and it fell to the floor, shattering on impact.
Fuck my life.
My guilt subsided real quick when I saw the shit show downstairs. There were broken vases, pictures, champagne flutes, and even a giant porcelain elephant, tipped on its side, with its trunk in tiny pieces scattered around it.
Rowan’s a dead man.
If my mom came home to her house in shambles like Rowan’s was, her skin would rip down the middle, a giant praying mantis would emerge from her human suit, and she’d eat my head like it was a cocktail shrimp.
I did a quick scan of the area, trying to find a mop of red hair. No dice. I walked onto the patio where the carnage continued. The stone tile of the patio was covered in puke. Most of it was stained red from the wretched punch Rowan made, making the place look like a murder scene.
This is too much. Where is Asher? We need to get the hell out of this nightmare.
The soft groans of the awakening zombies strewn about the floor began to rumble as the party’s victims slowly woke up. I walked down a hall and saw a big “Off Limits” sign on a pair of glass doors. A quick peek revealed the mop of red I’d been looking for.
Asher was in the plant room, otherwise known as a conservatory. The only reason I knew it was called a conservatory was because of the board gameClue.His sleeping body lay sprawled out on a table, and he clutched a pillow he must have snatched from the living room sofa.
He looked super peaceful, and I felt like an asshole waking him up, but that gnawing feeling that something was wrong started throbbing in the pit of my stomach. I had to know what happened.
I shook his shoulder as I whispered, “Asher. Asher, are you okay?”
One eye slowly opened, revealing an emerald green iris surrounded by bloodshot sclera. “What do you want?” Asher croaked.
Fuck, he was pissed. I was freaking out. “We good, man?”
Asher rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning as his body stretched on the wooden table. “What?” he asked.
“We good? Did I do something? Did I hurt you orsomething?”
Asher looked visibly shocked by the question. We stared at one another for what felt like an eternity before Asher said, “What do you remember?”
I rested my head on the table, frustration consuming me at my inability to remember a thing. “I remember tossing you into the tub. Did I hurt you? I’m afraid I screwed up, man. Like I did with Rowan.”
Asher’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, blinking at me as he started picking at his thumb cuticles. That freaked me out even more because Asher did that when he was nervous or upset.
