Chapter 38
1057words
"These guys go to school with your roommates?" Omar asks as they exit the car in front of the brightest house on a dark street
Ryder nods "I need you guys to be fucking chill ok? Don't get around college girls and act like dickheads"
"Yo speak for yourself," Terrence says, "we're not the ones that run away every time a girl says one word to us."
"Exactly " Jesse nods adding, "worry about yourself bro, you're the only one not here for pussy."
Ryder groans at the thought, that's all his 3 best friends cared about... pussy. A word Ryder found so vulgar but came out of Jesse, Omar, and Terrence's mouths way too often.
The 4 friends walk into the college party and that might be the last thing Ryder remembers. Spending his time watching his friends have fun, Ryder drinks until the courage hits— the liquid courage that is, and now he was in his element. Drunk enough to have fun but not enough to still feel the dread, so he keeps drinking until he feels nothing, it's a pattern. Some people drink to feel something because their whole existence felt numb, but Ryder Andrews drank because he feels too much, and for once he just wants his insides to feel as good as his outsides feel.
"And he was telling us to chill?" The 3 friends laugh at their friend making a fool of himself on the dance floor, holding the biggest bottle of vodka he could find. An average 16 year old probably shouldn't be standing upright after consuming half a bottle of 80-proof vodka, but Ryder wasn't your average. Lost in their own worlds Jesse, Omar, and Terrence forget Ryder, but that's how it always goes and Ryder can't really blame them, he knows he sometimes becomes too much when he drinks.
As he wonders the party after losing his friends and avoiding his nagging roommates, Ryder finds an empty corner to rest his head for a while. With blurred vision and a tricky mind, Ryder tries to focus on the fast-paced movements happening all around him, but nothing is slow enough for him to focus on. Until a dark figure slowly passes by, this one slow enough for him to reach out and grab. Unsure what he's grabbing Ryder feels the figure come towards him as their arm is firm in his grasp.
"Are you real?" Ryder mumbles feeling the pit of his stomach starting to rise "What?" The distorted voice responds as he lets go and rushes away. With weak legs and wobbly knees, Ryder pushes his way through the house until he finds himself back outside. The first hint of fresh air he's getting since he entered that party, the minute Ryder inhales he hunches over upchucking every shot, sip, or beer he had that evening. It all came out violently, but nothing felt better than the relief.
Alcohol feels like a heavy weight on your chest once you've consumed too much, and the only way to feel light again was to get it all out.
"Are you ok?" Ryder hears behind him as he's still hunched over
Feeling the lightness go from his stomach to his head, Ryder doesn't get a chance to reply as his eyelids get heavy and his balance gives out.
For Ryder this was the worst part, waking up the next day feeling like the world rotated itself, until it found the perfect spot to sit its giant ass on Ryder's head. Quickly sitting up after opening his eyes Ryder immediately regrets it holding his head. Groaning as he's finally able to look around he isn't familiar with anything. Not the bed or the walls, this wasn't a girl's room Ryder's sure of that, or any of his friend's rooms, so where the hell is he?!
Standing up Ryder stares at the walls covered in drawings and posters, seriously there wasn't a corner of this room that wasn't covered by some sort of drawing. "What the fuck?" He looks down stepping on his shoes and belongings just lying in a pile on the floor. Quickly putting on his shoes and hoodie, Ryder picks up his phone checking and seeing that it's dead "fuck!" He groans again.
Walking to the door he slowly opens it to a narrow hall, unsure of where he is or how even got there, Ryder was sure that if he was kidnapped this unsecured location would probably be the worst place to bring him. Heading towards the end of the hall with the most light, Ryder is stopped when he turns a corner to find a woman passed out on a couch and a tv on but muted. Not far away he
sees an opened door with a shut screen that looks like outside. Tiptoeing past the couch Ryder opens the screen stepping out of the house.
Once outside the boy stops to take a relieved breath, "morning" Ryder jumps startled by the greeting. Turning he finds a boy in a chair with a notebook sketching, the boy doesn't bother to look at Ryder he just keeps tracing lines in his book.
"Who are you?" Ryder asks not having a full view of the boy's face yet, "and how'd I get here?" "I found you about to pass out in a pool of your own throw up last night,"
Sighing Ryder rubs his face embarrassed, "that makes sense."
Finally putting down his pencil the boy stands dropping his notebook, "I'm Shia, we go to school together."
After one good look it was confirmed, Ryder knew exactly who he was, there was no denying knowing Shia Yorkton. When you look like he does and walk around so careless as if nothing mattered to you, you're known. It wasn't that Ryder just knew about Shia he also knew what he was, gay— or bi— whatever Shia wanted to call himself, Ryder knew and he's always wanted to know more.
