Chapter 8: Chugging Beer

When my alarm starts going off the next morning, it takes every bit of strength I have not to send my phone out the window.

Groaning loudly, I shut the alarm off, letting out a huff of air as I sit up.

If I didn't have a job, I'd be pissed I have to meet Motorcycle Girl every day that I don't have class.

However, I do have a job, and I don't work today, so I'm still annoyed.

I stand up, stress radiating through my body.

I tried to call my family back after she left my apartment and the phone kept going straight to voicemail.

All of the phones, even the house phone. Or, it would ring a few times and then go to voicemail.

I hear knocking on my bedroom door. I slept in sweatpants last night.

"What?" I growl. I door open and Brenda stands there.

"Odeletta is here." She says, her arms folded over her chest.

"Why?" I ask.

"Ask her yourself."

She walks off.

I grab one of my shirts off of the floor.

If my mother could see this room, she'd whoop my ass.

If she even gives a shit about me anymore.

I pull the shirt over my head and wander down the hall, running my fingers through my messy bed hair.

French Fry stands in my living room. I raise my eyebrows at her.

"Hi?" I say, my voice rough with sleep.

She looks me up and down, her eyes hesitating on my hair, and then she sighs.

"We can study here, yes?"

"I suppose." I look around.

"It is snowing." She says. "Have you got class?"

"No." I shake my head. "Let me go...get dressed or something." I mutter. "If you're hungry, there's food in the kitchen." I look at Brenda who is watching us with narrow eyes. "Where's Mason?"

"He left for work." She says.

"Can you help her find something to eat? Or a drink?" I ask. He nods and look at French Fry.

"Thanks." I grumble.

I walk into my bedroom and shut the door.

I swallow a groan as I grab a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I don't feel like showering, so I'm not going to.

I pull on the clothes and walk into the bathroom. I pee and then brush my teeth and comb my hair. I wash my hands and dry them, walking into my bedroom. I grab my phone and wander into the kitchen where French Fry and Brenda stand.

French Fry has a mug of something. I get a glass of milk and pour chocolate syrup in it, mixing it.

"I have to go to work." Brenda announces. "Toodles."

I grunt in response. I hear her footsteps grow quieter, the sound of the front door opening, and then slamming shut a moment later.

"Did you eat breakfast?" I ask, glancing at her over my shoulder.

"Déjeuner." She says. I look at her. "That is French for breakfast." She says. "And non." She adds. "Non is French for no." She nods.

I nod slowly.

"Okay, what do you want to eat?" I run my hands down my face, stressed.

"Do you have fruit loops?" She asks. I look at the top of the fridge, grabbing the box. I hand it to her, get a bowl, the milk, and a spoon, handing it to her. Her eyes study me for a second. "Are you okay?" she asks. My eyebrows shoot up.

"Uh..." I swallow.

The only people that ask me if I'm okay are Mason and my family.

Why does she even care?

I hesitate.

"No." I decide to just be honest.

"Why?" She asks.

I shrug.

"It's...just my...family problems." I sigh, getting myself a bowl too.

"What's wrong?" She presses. I study her face for a second.

"Why? Are you going to post it online? Text my mom and tell her I threw you down a flight of stairs or something?"

"No." She says.

I swallow.

"I just um...I think they disowned me." I mutter. Her face fills with shock, and then confusion.

"Family doesn't just..." she trails off. "I'm sorry." She decides to go with.

"Uh...thanks." I mutter. I get my cereal after she gets hers, and I put the box back.

"Are you going to France?" She wonders. "Did you pay the extra tuition fee to get to go on all of the trips?"

"Yes." I nod. "Mason is going too."

Her face screws up in announce. "Is Spears going?"

"Spears?"

"Britney. Britney Spears." She says. "Is she going?"

"Brenda?" I ask. "No, she's taking Spanish."

"Spanish is basic." She mumbles. "Everyone in this country takes Spanish."

That's true. I nod in agreement and we eat together.

I notice she's not wearing a leather jacket today. Instead, she has on a gray crop top tank top, black high waisted jeans that show only a small line of her stomach, and a white knit sweater.

She actually look really attractive.

"Can I ask you something?" I blurt. She looks at me. "Have you always been so bitter?"

Her eyes narrow.

"I don't mean it rudely." I say quickly. "I just...I know why I'm bitter, but I don't know why you are."

She hesitates, looking down at her cereal.

Her eyebrows move down like she's upset and I notice how she has worry lines on her forehead. Her lips form into a frown, and her hand moves to run through her hair.

She's upset, but why?

"I've always been bitter." She decides to go with.

"I don't believe you." I say. She looks at me and opens her mouth to snap, but I put my hands up. "You don't have to tell me." I say. "But I'm just saying I know there's more to you than meets the eye, that's all."

"Please don't look me up." She says.

"Look you up?" I repeat. "Like on the internet?"

"No, look me up and down." She snaps. "Yes, on the internet."

I sigh.

"I won't." I say, although I'm immensely curious.

I drink the milk in my bowl and then put it in the dishwasher, putting hers in too with the spoon.

"You owe me a lamp, by the way." I say.

"I don't owe you anything." She says. "You were rude."

"So were you." I say, moving in front of her. I can't help but notice how soft her hair looks, the way it falls in gentle waves to her shoulders. It's short, but it suits her. Her brown eyes look up at me, narrowed, and her lips look soft, so soft. I resist the urge to reach out and brush my thumb along her bottom lip.

"You call me brat." She says. "And French Fry. That's racist."

"I'm not racist." I snap. "You call me little. You're no better. You call me Natalie." I say. "And I'm a fucking guy."

"You call me brat!" She throws her hands up, and I can't help but notice how attractive she is when shes angry. "You have called me a bitch before."

"Yeah? What's a connard, huh? I'm sure it's no nicer than a bitch."

She moves closer to me.

"Connard is shithead." She says. "Because that's what you are." It's quiet for a moment, and the tension is thick, I can feel it settling into my skin. "Don't you dare say you're not, because everyone knows you are, you're just a little-"

She's so fucking hot. I can't handle it. I bite my lip.

"-fucking dick!" She finishes, huffing out a breath of frustration.

"You piss me off so much." I hiss.

"Yeah?" She nods, laughing coldly. "I'm sure I do."

The next thing I know, she's grabbing the front of my shirt with her right hand and yanking me down, crashing my lips to hers.

What the fuck?

Without thinking, I start responding, kissing her back quickly, our lips moving together with force, our tongues fighting for dominance. I feel her tugging my shirt, so I pull it over my head, dropping it to the floor. She sheds her sweater from her arms, and I feel her hands running up and down my chest, sliding over my pecs and abs. My fingers are tangled in her soft brown hair. I reach down, gripping her ass, and yank, lifting her up. Her legs lock around my waist, and I find myself walking, my lips not leaving hers as I carry her to the bedroom. I shove open the door with my left hand, carrying her to my bed, kicking my door shut. It slams loudly, and when I lay her down on my mattress, she pulls away, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Nathan, this is a really bad idea." She mumbles weakly, her brown eyes dilated. I nod my head, pressing my forehead to hers on all fours above her.

"I know." I mutter.

She takes a deep breath and lets out a frustrated groan, reaching down and pulling off that gray crop top.

_____

I sit on my counter, staring at my shirt on the floor, my eyes wide. I must not have heard the front door shut because suddenly, I hear Mason's voice.

"Nate!" He says when I don't answer him. I slowly lift my eyes to his face.

"Yeah?" I mutter.

"What's wrong? You've been staring at your shirt for ten minutes."

Brenda is standing with him.

Slowly, I move my eyes to the clock.

4:52PM. I gulp.

"Uh..." I cough, looking down at my shirt.

"Why is your shirt on the floor?" Mason asks.

"Mason." I say quietly, looking up at him.

"What?" He asks. "Are you alright?"

"I has sex with Odeletta." I say.

"What?" He asks. "Hilarious joke dude."

I just stare at him.

"You're serious." Brenda says. I point to the shirt of the floor.

"She took my shirt off." I nod to the black t-shirt, swallowing. "And put it on the floor. Or I took it off, I don't remember. God, I need some fucking alcohol."

"You had sex?" Mason asks, grabbing a beer from the fridge. He hands it to me.

"Yes." I say. "We had breakfast and then we started arguing because she's so...god, she's so fucking enraging." I shake my head, gritting my teeth. "And then she was kissing me, and the next thing I know, I was swiping a condom from your side drawer."

"So you had sex?" Mason asks. "Like kissed, a lot, and then you had sex?"

I gulp, nodding.

"Then what happened?" Brenda asks.

I gulp my beer and slam it down on the counter, half empty.

"She left." I press my lips together. "And god dammit," I cut off, remember right before I plunged inside of her, she told me I had to go slowly because she was a virgin. "I took her fucking virginity." I moan, burying my head in my hands. "Oh fuck Mason, I should go to jail."

"So where did she go? Did she say anything?" Brenda asks

"After she caught her breath?" I smirk. "She said she was going to take a shower."

"How long ago was that?" Brenda asks gently.

She's not squealing.

"Uh..." I rub my face. "Noon, I think." I say. "So like five hours ago."

"I had to work at eight thirty." Brenda says. "I left at eight, so what time did you two...you know, start?"

I cringe.

"Um...well, she..." I bite my lip. "Like, eight twenty..." I trail off.

"You had sex for three and a half hours?" Mason asks.

"Did I mention it was more than once?" I cringe.

"Oh my god." He says. "Well what are you going to do? Call her?"

I bite my lip. "I don't have her number." I mutter.

"Well..." Mason hesitates. "Was it good, at least?"

I start laughing nervously, nodding.

"Yeah." I say. "But what am I going to do? Pretend it didn't happen?"

"I don't know." Mason says. "I've never had sex with somebody I didn't like." He frowns. "Maybe you should talk to her. Don't you know where she lives?"

"No." I say. "I don't. Dammit." I pick up my beer just as somebody knocks on the door. Mason sighs, watching as I raise the bottle to my lips, and then he walks over to the door, opening it.

"Oh." He grins. "Hello. We were just talking about you."

He steps aside and Odeletta walks in.

Brenda looks at me, and I immediately pick up my beer and chug it.

When I down the whole bottle, I toss it in the trash and hop off the counter, grabbing another one from the fridge.

"Do you want some alcohol?" I ask her, my heart pounding violently in my chest.

She presses her lips together, following Mason to the kitchen, nodding.

I grab her a beer and hand it to her.

When her finger brushes against mine, heat shoots up to my arm/

I rip it back quickly, shoving my free hand in my pocket.

"Here to tell me to kill myself?" I ask.

I start guzzling down the beer.

"I'm here to tell you that I've decided to stop calling you little."

I start choking, coughing terribly, gasping for air.

"And that I'm sorry for calling you Natalie...you have proved that you are not a female."

Mason snorts.

The moment I compose myself, I sip my beer.

"Uh..." I stammer. "You, um, well-"

Somebody knocks on the door.

"Oh look, visitors!" I laugh nervously.

I walk over to the door, looking through the peephole.

My eyes widen when I see the familiar women with her blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

"Fuck." I whisper. I walk into the kitchen.

"Mason, this is your beer." I slam my beer into his chest and look at Odeletta. "That women does not know about this morning, understood?" I tell her as I point to the door. She nods, confusion filling her face. I pick my shirt up off the floor, fix it, and pull it over my bare chest, walking to the door. I run my fingers through my hair a few times and open the door.

"Mom."