Song~ Wasted by Tiësto ft. Mathew Koma

A/N~ Okay, so, I just want to clarify that technically (not technically, it really does) the start of the chapter takes place on Day 18, but since the majority of it happens on Day 17 I posted it here. I wanted to change up the writing style. Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I do!

~Mar ❤️

***

My forehead is pounding. It feels like there's a jackhammer in my head. The sun shines brightly in my face.

  "No, make it stop!" I grumble, rolling over so the sun is out of my eyes. I let out a content sigh. Something soft tickles my nose. I scrunch my face and jerk my head up, wincing at the brightness and the sharp pain.

  I'm surrounded by feathers. Dozens upon dozens litter the floor. How did I get here?

  "What happened last night?" I mutter. I throw an arm over my eyes to block out the sun as I roll onto my back. 

   Mason shushes from beside me. "Too loud." 

  I get up onto my feet and look around. My head pounds harder. We're both on the floor in Mason's living room. The floor is covered in feathers and crashed into the coffee table is a Walmart shopping cart. A dog is sleeping peacefully on Mason's back.

  "What the hell?" I spin around a couple times as if it will somehow help me.

  I wrack my brain trying to figure out what we did last night. This is some Nancy Drew type mystery.

Slowly, in bits and pieces, it comes back to me. Last night was the first time I got wasted. And judging by this hangover, it's also going to be my last time.

***

Hours Earlier:

  I angrily threw down my book and let out an aggravated groan. My phone vibrated angrily on my nightstand. It had been going off for at least 5 minutes. 'Whoever it was better be texting me because of something important' I thought to myself.

>>Mason: COME OVER!
>>Mason: I HAVE A SURPRISE!
>>Mason: YOU'LL LIKE THIS ONE. PINKY PROMISE!!

I read the messages and snort. I really hate surprises. I don't like not knowing things.

I glanced at my watch. It was just after 7pm. What could he possibly want?

After a brief 10 minute walk, I ended up at his house. I didn't even bother knocking. He told me to come over. That's invitation enough.

"Mason?" I called out.

  "Over here!" He yelled back. I followed the sound of his voice into his living room.

  "What is so important you couldn't wait to tell me tomorrow or just text me?"

  "I don't have anything to tell you; I have something to offer you. A proposal if you will." A smirk formed on his lips. 

  "I don't see you down on one knee, so I'm not going to get my hopes up." I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow. I gave him a look that said continue when he remained silent."What is your offer?"

  "I propose we get wasted."

  "Wasted." I repeated like a parrot.

  "Hammered, sloshed, drunk as a skunk, lit. Call it whatever you want." He pulled out a paper bag and carefully emptied its contents onto the coffee table at the foot of the sofa. It contained a large bottle of vodka and a couple cans of beer, it appeared to be.

"This is your brilliant plan?"

"More or less. We're going to do a drinking game to make it funner."

"Wow, with English like that I could already swear you're already wasted and sloshed." I threw his words back at him.

"Why are you always so against these ideas? They're written on your list. I saw them with my own two eyes. You know what your problem is?"

I narrowed my eyes at him in mild annoyance. "No, do elaborate. I would love to know what my problem is."

"You think too much. Stop that because you're going to psyche yourself out of some really fun and cool things. Don't think; just do, that's my philosophy," Mason explained with a stare that challenged me.

  I gasp. "I do not!"

  A smug and satisfied look washes over his face. "Me thinks thou dost protest too much."

I do not over think! If he wants a doer, fine I'll be the best doer he's ever met! Wait, that sounded a little off.

I hotly stomp to the table with the alcohol.

"You stole this all didn't you? You can't buy any of it," I commented, shooting daggers at him.

"Oh what a surprise. You're thinking and not doing. I really should have placed money on it," he says in a singsong voice.

"Kleptomaniac," I muttered under my breath. I picked up a can. I raised it in a mock toast, making sure to keep my eyes locked on Mason as I prepared to drink. Don't think; just do, I thought before opening the can and chugging half of it before running out of breath. I see a satisfied smirk on his face.

I glared at him. He basically just manipulated me into getting his what. What an asshat! 

  I needed another drink if I was going to stay there all night without harming him. I swiftly gulped the rest of my drink down. It left a burning sensation in my mouth and in the back of my throat. It was also bitter and I didn't like it.

  "Let's play the stupid drinking game," I said, plopping onto his couch.

  "Alright, the rules are simple: every time one of us loses in a game of Rock Paper Scissors, we do a shot."

"Bring it on, pretty boy," I taunted, feeling confident about my skills.

"1...2...3...show!" He cheered. I had a rock; he had paper. I scowled.

I poured the vodka into a shot class and did a shot. I scrunched my nose in disgust and coughed slightly. "That shit is strong."

  We continued to play several rounds. With each drink we took our cares seemed to fade away and a welcomed sense of calmness took over our bodies. It was like a relief and happiness took over us. Eventually, we were tied each of us losing 6 rounds. That's when the night started to get hazy.

  After the 6 shots, we each had a can of beer. We were both drunk when Brooklyn home from work. She swung open the door and dropped her coat off in the closet.

  "Honey, I'm home!" She announced in a singsong voice. She found us both dancing to music in the living room. We were both standing on the table with empty cans scattered around us. Mason's phone was blasting. We were both fist pumping to the music and failing miserably at singing the lyrics.

  "Wow, you guys are totally out of it," Brook commented with a laugh.

  "Am not!" I argued, hopping down and stumbling. I nearly fell, but Brooklyn caught me.

  "Are so!" Mason retorted, swiftly following me to Brook.

  That continued for 5 minutes. God, we're idiots when we're drunk.

"You're giving me a migraine from all your arguing," Brook complained, massaging her temples.

I gasped and my eyes lit up with excitement. "Walmart has medicine! We should go to Walmart! Adventure time!"

Mason cheered. "Let's go to Walmart! Hell yeah!"

"Hell no!" Brook said, mimicking Mason's over-eager tone. "I'm not taking you two out anywhere. I hate babysitting, especially drunk people."

"Please?" I begged, tugging on her shirt. "I'll give you my first born son."

She looked at me like I was crazy. "Who do you think I am? Rumpelstiltskin? I'm not taking your child that's like borderline kidnapping."

  "I'll give you my kidney! Please-e," Mason whined, enticingly wiggling his eyebrows.

  We refused to take no for an answer. We continued to loudly beg her to take us.

  Reluctantly, she groaned. "Fine! But we're walking. If either one of you puked in my car, I don't care how much I love you, I would throw you into a trash compactor. While we're out we're picking you up some toothpaste, your breath smells."

  "Yay!!" We both shouted excitedly. Together we walked down the sidewalk, laughing at absolutelyp nothing and holding each other up as we nearly fell over every couple feet.

  Walmart was only about 3 minutes away since they lived downtown, but in out drunken state it took a lot longer and included a lot of prodding from Brook.

  "Shopping can be really fun! Shopping is for everyone!" I sang at the top of our lungs in a military style march. Mason doubled over and laughed to the point where he fell on the ground. Brooklyn helped him up, muttering incoherent words as she did. Mason looked up at her with a goofy smile plastered on his face and kissed her cheek with an over dramatic smack of his lips.

"Such a good sister," he said fondly.

"Let's get a cart!" I eagerly yelled, rushing inside to grab one. 

"We don't need one because we aren't getting anything. I was kidding about the toothpaste," Brook stated in an annoyed tone.

"Don't be so grumpy!" I said with a pout. I put my hands on my hips and mocked her. It didn't last long before I laughed and nearly tripped on air.

"I don't get paid enough for this," she mumbled taking my hand.

"Silly goose, you don't get paid at all!" I giggled.

She rolled her eyes. Mason pointed into the cart. "Hop in, we're going for a ride, cool cat!"

  I giggled and did as he said. I sat in the large basket area with my legs tucked into my chest. He took off running out of the store, leaving Brook in the dust calling out to us.

  "See, it's like Mario Kart! Get it? Cuz you're Italian and it's a cart!" He guffaws, still running around like a maniac in the parking lot.

  "That's racist," I slurred so it sounded like all one word. I giggled at how ridiculous I sounded. "I talk funnilily."

"I choose you, Mario!" He said pointing at me. Just as he said that, a man in a motorized scooter zipped through the lot. "GO! GO! GO! We can't let him win!"

He took off sprinting again, chasing after the scooter. He started to make the Mario Brothers theme song tune with his mouth. I bopped along, giggling like a schoolgirl when the hot bad boy checked her out. It was annoying. Well, I guess I'm a bubbly drunk.

   "We won! We won!" Mason cheered. I looked around, lost and oblivious to my surroundings, but nonetheless cheered.

  Brook came dashing after us and leaned over, resting her hands on her thighs. She was panting heavily. "I'm not built for exercise. Exercise more like extra fries am I right or am I right?" She held her hand up waiting for a high five.

  I attempted to high five her, but missed and nearly hit my face on the cart. She sighed. "Okay class, field trip's over. Let's go home."

  I looked up at her with beading eyes. "Can we keep the cart?"

"Ugh, I don't think you'll willingly get out and with Dingus-" she jerked a thumb at Mason "-over here drunk too I can't make you. So, yes, it can come with us."

"Is Dingus a Pokemon?" Mason asked bewildered. His eyes lit up. "Can we play Pokemon Go?"

"Even if you were sober and offered me so much money that I could wipe my ass with hundred dollar bills, I'd still say no," she said flatly.

Mason grumbled incoherent words. I smiled as I was pushed along the sidewalk. I struck the Titanic pose. "I'm flying."

Mason laughed while Brook roller her eyes.

  I looked over his shoulder. "OHMYGOD IT'S A DOGGO!" I yelled, frantically pointing to the dog on the lawn of the house we just passed.

  "He's all alone," Mason observed with furrowed brows.

  "Guys, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he's on someone's lawn. I think- and I'm just spit-balling ideas here- it might be theirs."

  "But if they really wanted it, don't you think they'd be out with him? They're not and he looks sad and like he wants us to take him!" I pointed to the dog again. Mason happily changed course so we were heading to it.

  When it noticed our approach, its tail started wagging. He was a cute little pug with the cutest face. Mason scooped it up and handed it to me in the cart.

  "Congratulations, it's a boy!" He said happily.

  I started cooing it as if it were a baby. We finally got home, much to Brook's happiness. We rode the cart up the driveway and into the house. Mason crashed it into the coffee table, causing it to tip over and me to tumble out.

  I closed my eyes and sprawled on the floor. "Like a good neighbor State Farm is there." My eyes flew open and scanned the room. Realizing that no one knew was there, I pouted and laid on the floor. Mason plopped down next to me.

  "I can't take you home like this." She sighed looking at me. "Your parents would be pissed and probably wouldn't let you over here again."

  She huffed. "Fine, you can stay the night. That's probably the only option we have. I'll grab some pillows." She exited the room.

  Mason rolled over onto his side to face me. "I always thought I'd be the one saying those words." A sly smirk formed on his face.

  "So did I." I mimicked his expression.I couldn't even remember what words he was referring to. I was just going along with it.

  Slowly, he leans in to me and I do the same. We get closer and closer and the world seems to be spinning, until we bonked our heads together.

  "Son a biscuit!" He grunted.

  I didn't really feel the pain, but I was upset at the newfound distance between us. Brook returned moments later with several blankets.

  "Here," she said handing us each a pillow and some blankets. "You two need to sleep. Also, if either of you vomit you clean it up. And if the dog shits or goes all Cujo on us while we sleep, I'm going to haunt you in the after life and make you wish for the sweet release of death all over again," she threatens, earning a giggle from me. "Be good children. Keep your hands to yourself, I'm not ready to be an aunt."

  I giggled. "You're so silly, Brook. You make me laugh. You're both a gentleman and a scholar. In the morning, I shall have Papa fetch you his finest goat for your services."

  I made absolutely no sense. I just said the first words that came to mind.

  "That's so fetch," Mason adds in a high pitched voice before rolling onto his back, laughing hysterically. I do the same.

Brook rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, drunk Vivian. Goodnight, drunk Mason."

  We both fell asleep hours later with ridiculous smiles on our faces.

  ***

  "Where the hell did the feathers come from?" I ask.

  Mason grunts then points to a torn up pillow by the dog. My mouth forms an 'O' shape. He must have ripped open a pillow while we slept.

  "Bad, Cujo," I scold. I take him into my arms and go outside. I hiss when then the sun attacks my eyes. I locate the house we went to last night and dump the dog back.

  "Go, be free," I shoo. He looks at me before his tongue falls out of his mouth and he happily trots to the door.

  I start the agonizingly long walk back to my house.