“Drinks, coffee
Drinks, coffee
Drinks or coffee
Just call me, yeah.”
….

I stare at the black video game controller with a side eye as Albert inches it closer to my face.

“Take that thing away from me.”

“Oh come on, just one game,” he cries, bringing it right in front of me and waving it around my face. I push it away with a sigh of frustration.

“I told you that I swore off playing video games after the whole Felix incident. And I'm serious about it.”

“God you're so dramatic,” he murmurs and gets up to shut the game off.

We're sitting on the white plush couch of his vast and expensive looking living room. I look up at the ridiculously high ceiling of his parents mansion and keep my eyes trained on the diamond carved chandelier hanging precariously up there.

I raise my hands up in surrender before proceeding to drag my hand through my hair. It's curlier than usual today and I occasionally have to run my hands through to detangle them.

“So what do you wanna do now?” he says as he reclines back on the couch. I see him grab a bottle of water from a side stool next to him and take a few sips.

He's still a water freak. Never goes more than an hour without water. I wonder how he'll survive if there was a water shortage for like five hours.

“I might sound sad and depressed-which I am- but I just want to talk about my feelings.”

Albert gives a light chuckle and I can't refrain myself from rolling my eyes at him.

He's such a dick.

“Hey, I gotcha. I know I can be closed off and very unemotional some of the time–”

“All of the time.”

“...but I can also be a good listener. And I'm good with psychology stuff so I can be your unqualified therapist for now,” he says with a grin.

“Thank you for being here,” I murmur.

“Alright. So what do you want to talk about?” he says as she adjusts his round, thin-framed glasses on his face. The glasses look cool on him, surprisingly. I would never pick out that shape if I was going to get glasses but they fit his face so he's lucky.
He didn't escape being called Harry Potter multiple times at school, though. And I was the one who started the nickname of course.

“I feel like shit,” I begin with a sigh.

He gives me a once over, staring down at me through the top of his glasses.
“Oh well that makes sense, considering that you also look like shit-ow!”

He's lucky these pillows are soft.

“Anyway,” I continue, rolling my eyes at him. “I feel like my life is over–do not call me dramatic.”

“I won't, I won't. Go on.”

I run my hands along my face and lay my head back against the couch.
“My parents hate me. They're not speaking to me–”

“Wait, woah what happened?” He sits upright.

“I dropped basketball.”

“What…? Why and when the fuck did you decide to do that?”

“I was…tired okay? I was tired of trying to please them while suffering on my own. I hate basketball, as you know and I know I said that I wasn't brave enough to do so but…I couldn't take it anymore. I dropped it, the whole contract with the school and everything. And they're all mad at me, the coach, my teammates, the entire goddamn school! Even our coach in Lakeville. He really thought that I was so dedicated to it and I hated disappointing him but it was the right decision. Although it doesn't really feel like that now,” I ramble on and then pause with a tired sigh. “And it was partly because of Star…”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“Her best friend, Sam, was the centre forward in the school's team. And he got dropped because of me, just like that. It wasn't fair. He hates my guts, as he has every right to and when they found out that Star was talking to me, her two best friends, they unfriended her. And I felt so guilty. I knew that I couldn't do much but giving him back his spot was something at least. It was all I could do.”

“That was…a really nice thing to do.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“But it took a lot of courage. And kindness.”

I shrug. “I guess.”

“And what about Star?”

I scratch the back of my head and try to ignore the ache in my chest.
“We’re not talking remember?”

“Oh yeah…and you don't want to talk to her anymore?”

“I do. I really do. But I…I don't know.”

“Scared about the curse?”

“It's such a stupid reason,” I say, reaching out to grab an unopened bottle of water at the side table.

“But it's valid.”

“I wish I could just ignore and just go…fuck it and go talk to her.”

“If you ask me,” he says in a low tone that makes me perk up, “I'd say go for it.”

“Really?” I drop the half filled bottle back on the table distractedly as I stare at him unbelievably.

He nods. “But give it time and think about it. Give her space, give it space. And if in the end, your heart still wants it, go for it. Go talk to her.”

A smile tugs at my lips and eventually spreads to a full on grin. “I will do that. Thank you…for everything. For being here,” I add.

“You're welcome. The bill is–”

He dodges the pillow coming at him with a laugh. I get up from the couch and grab my phone and headphones from the table beside me.
“Like you need any money, living in this big ass house,” I murmur staring in awe at the elegance and exquisiteness of the living room. I've been here several times but it never gets old.

“It can be hard living here alone sometimes,” he says so quietly that I almost don't catch it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, but then I remember I hate people so it's fine.” He gives me a stiff smile.

I laugh at his statement, nevertheless, and start heading out.

He follows right behind me and sees me off.
“Hope we get to do this again soon,” he tells me.

“Me too,” I say and give him my signature salute before walking off.

I feel so much better now, much more clear headed. All I need to do now is to think about this, while giving myself time of course.

***

“We're so disappointed in you!”

“You're a failure.”

“Your life is over. You ruined yourself with your own hands.”

Get the fuck out of my head!

They don't seem to want to leave. The harsh words of my parents ring over and over again in my head. My brain is pounding in my skull and as much as I want to be strong, I just feel like curling into a ball and hiding in a dark corner for the rest of my life.

I don't know what causes the thought of alcohol to pop up in my head. But once it gets in there, there's no going back. I need to have it.

I grab my phone and speed walk to the closest bar to our house. When I finally get there, I push open the door with a little more force than usual, causing it to make a loud bang but no one seems to notice or care. Well, good, cause neither do I.

The door shuts behind me and I make a bee line straight to the counter.

I order a cup of beer and take a seat at one of the stools right there. The bartender's eyes widen as I down the entire cup in ten seconds. He doesn't say anything though. He just gets back to work as if this is a normal sight for him. Probably is.

I order about five more cups before the bartender refuses to give me any more. I don't mind though, because the alcohol has already started doing its job.

I feel woozy and as expected, the world around me is spinning in a really fun way. I feel like I'm in a merry go round. I let out a soft sigh and rest my head on my hands, shutting my eyes tightly and opening them up in an attempt to clear my vision. It doesn't work.

I hear myself let out a soft chuckle and I feel like people around me are staring at me. My head drops into the counter but I can barely feel any pain. I feel great, like I'm floating somewhere up there in the sky. A small smile plays on my lips.

I should do this often.

The strong smell of cigarettes wafts into my nose and I raise my head up immediately, my slightly less spinning eyes searching for the owner of the cigarette.

I need some of it.

“Hey,” I call out. I finally spot him. He takes a puff and turns to stare at me with a raised brow.

“Can I get some of that?”

“Hell nah,” the bartender says and informs me that it's time for me to leave.

I know that's a bad idea because I'm sure I can barely stand on my feet but I don't want to cause a scene or something so I just pay and get down from the stool, stumbling out of the bar afterwards.