The toast is simple but perfect. “Fuck being predictable,” I say, then tip the bottle towards my lips.
Fire.
My chest is on fire.
I choke and sputter as the lava flows down my throat and warms my entire body. Devin doesn’t seem to be fairing much better than me. He’s dropped his bottle on the sad carpet and is doubled over. “Water,” he chokes out.
We stumble towards the kitchen and I grab two glasses from the cabinet and fill them with water from the tap. We gulp it down, and I groan. “This is worse.”
Devin sets his glass on the counter. “Fuck, that was awful.”
I nod and giggle. “How do people drink enough to get drunk? I feel like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.”
Devin snorts. His eyes shimmer with amusement. “Do you feel anything?”
I press my finger to my lips. They tingle a little, and now that I don’t feel like I’m on fire, I realize my reaction time is a bit delayed. “What does drunk feel like?”
Devin laughs and bops me on the nose. “I have no idea, but if this is drunk, then it feels a little like jumping.”
“Here we go with the emo kid stuff.” I roll my eyes. I turn towards the pantry. There’s half a bag of sour cream potato chips and a package of soft baked cookies. I snag them and turn back to Devin. “How does getting drunk feel like jumping?”
He rolls his eyes at me and goes over to where Daddy keeps his whiskey. He dumps our water out and fills our glasses with a couple of splashes each. Then he goes to the fridge and takes out a bottle of cola that I’m sure is flat and fills the glasses the rest of the way. Dad will probably notice we’ve gotten into it, but if he wins on the machine he will come home too happy to care. If he loses he’ll come home too drunk to notice.
We take our drinks and snacks to the sofa and I point the remote toward the television. Alex is smiling back at us from the screen. “Well, Veronica.” His voice is low and gravelly. I watch his throat bob up and down and he sips his drink. My own throat bobs in response as I subconsciously mimic his motions. “Falling is an accident, and well, we’re doing this on purpose. Flying would mean we had any control.” He bites his bottom lip, leaving little white indents in the otherwise pink flesh. “But jumping is a combination of both.”
I smile into my glass but don’t comment. Devin has a poet’s heart, even if he doesn’t realize it and maybe that’s why we get along so well.
One game show rolls into the next as Dev and I shout random answers at the screen. Evening turns to night. Our drunkenness wears off. Our eyelids are heavy as the front door swings open. Dad stands there, his arms overflowing with takeout from our favorite Chinese restaurant. I jump to my feet, my stomach growling at the delicious smells coming from the bag. “Did you get the Kung Pao?” I ask, giddy.
“Yup,” Daddy says. His big brown eyes shine with humor. “And I got extra cause I figured you’d be here.”
Devin jumps up, grabs the bags, and carries them to the kitchen. Takeout is a luxury we don’t indulge in often unless the place has a dollar menu attached to it.
Daddy lifts me up and swings me around. He’s in a good mood.
“How much did you win?” I ask.
He sets me on my feet and reaches behind his back. He pulls out a small black bag and hands it to me. I peek inside the bag and spy four wooden handles. My eyes shoot to his. He got me the brushes I’d been eyeing since Christmas, but they were so expensive I didn’t bother putting them on my Christmas list. “Daddy,” I shake my head and close the bag, “these are too much. You should take them back and put the money towards rent or something.”
Daddy shakes his head. “Let me worry about keeping the roof over our head. You just be my little girl for a little while longer.”
I peer down at my brushes. They are really nice. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Devin bounces back into the living room and stares at us like we’re crazy. “Let’s eat.”
Roni, age 18
“What do we have here?” Dad’s gruff voice sounds from the entryway.
My eyes snap open as warmth engulfs my back. I stare up at my dad who staring down at me with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Hey Daddy,” I squeak.
Devin shifts behind me, his massive arms tucking me closer to his chest. Thankfully the covers hide our bottom half, otherwise my dad would see exactly what his little girl has been up to.
“Hey, Mr. Abernathy,” Dev’s sleepy voice sounds behind me. He hops out of bed, his clothes wrinkled from sleeping in them, walks over to my father, and extends his hand.
Daddy takes it as I wonder in horror if it’s the same one that was inside of me last night. “You’re taller than me now, kid. Call me Ray.”
Dev nods, unsure.
“What are you doing in my daughter's room?” Dad asks. His posture implies he’s annoyed with finding us here, but there's a slight tip to his lips.
“We were hanging at The Grove last night and I walked Roni home. We started talking and I guess I just passed out,” he lies smoothly.
Daddy assesses him a moment before nodding. “Some of my best memories were made at that park. Hell, my daughter probably was too.”
“Daddy.” I cringe.
Dad ignores me, keeping his gaze focused on Devin. “Well, what do you kids have planned for today?”
Dev runs a hand through his hair and looks back at me. “Are you up for another driving lesson?”
“You let her get behind the wheel?” Daddy asks with a horrified grin.
“She didn’t kill anyone.”
“Because you took me to a cemetery,” I mutter.
Daddy chuckles, clasping Devin on the back. “Well, that deserves a meal. I was just coming up to see what Roni wanted to do for breakfast. Would you like to join us?”
Devin’s eyes find mine and I give him a small nod. “Yes, sir. That sounds awesome.”
“Good. Also, no more overnights.” Daddy clasps Dev on the shoulder with way more force than necessary.
“Yes, sir.” Dev winces. Dad ushers Devin to the door. He casts one last glance over his shoulder before the two of them disappear into the hall, closing the door behind them.
I throw the cover over my head and count to ten in my head, then I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and stand.
The space between my legs throbs with an emptiness I’m not sure how to describe. I thought I’d be more embarrassed about being so exposed in front of him, but I'm not. He’s familiar with my body in a way that’s comforting. I wanted Devin to fuck me, I wanted to be rid of my goddamn hymen already, but he’s got it in his head to make it special, which is the last thing either of us needs. Special is for a girlfriend, or at the minimum someone you’re in a relationship with. Devin is in a relationship with the ghost of his ex-girlfriend and I’m…well, I’m alone.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Reese: WYD?
I bite down on my bottom lip. Staring at the reminder that I don’t have to be alone. Reese, for whatever reason, likes me. And he’s uncomplicated. It would be so much easier to do this with him. I should be doing this with him, and yet…