Page 228 of Broken by my Bully
God, is she going to lecture me about how bad energy drinks are, too? Soda was bad enough.
“Yes, Mother.” I hand back the water. “Gatorade please.”
He goes back into a crouch. “Keep the water,” he says as he hands me a bottle of Gatorade. “You’re gonna need it.”
“Okay, thanks.” I shrug and start after Melissa.
She gives my bottles a quick frown. “Take it easy, okay? I’m not babysitting tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I open the Gatorade and start gulping it down.
Man, I’mthirsty.
Melissa catches my wrist. “I said, take iteasy!” she hisses.
I swipe the back of my hand over my mouth. “You worried Iwon’t be able to sleep tonight with all the caffeine in my…” I trail off when her eyes just keep growing bigger and bigger.
Fuck. I didn’t feel the seal crack when I twisted the cap off.
“What the fuck is this?” I yell.
Melissa rolls her lips together. There’s a smudgy handprint on the side of her face where I slapped her with pink body paint. I think I have a blue one to match.
“Molly?” she mouths.
A burst of panic hits me. “What?”
“You’ll be fine,” she says, laughing as she shakes her head. “Just stay hydrated.” She hesitates and then snatches the Gatorade from me. “Withwater.”
And then we step into the clearing, and it’s like I’ve been transported to a bioluminescent alien planet.
Or, like, that big tree thing in Avatar.
Everything’s glowing. The trees, the people, the webbed awnings stretched between the forest’s canopy. They’ve even painted the DJ deck with UV graffiti.
“Oh my God, am I tripping already?”
Melissa looks back to laugh at me, and then hauls me over the dance floor to a bar nestled against some trees. “Two tequilas!” she yells over the music.
She hands me a shot, and we clink and toss it back.
I down half my water.
It doesn’t help.
An hour later, I’mfucked up.
Kai
Fuck, the DJ is killing it. We ship this guy in from Europe every year for the gig, and he’s never failed to deliver. Really wish he’d put his fucking shirt on, though. I don’t need to be reminded how many times I’ve missed gym the past few weeks.
I’m on the edge of the dance floor on one of the small platforms reserved for Greeks. This one has our Greek letters painted on the tree behind us, but most of my frat brothers are busy dancing, banging someone, or getting refills.
I’m happy right here, jamming like tonight’s my last night on earth.
If I take any more drugs, it might be.
Ha. At least I’d die happy.
