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Drunk

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She likes the feeling of being drunk. Not pass-out drunk, not drunk enough to throw up and wake up with a hangover the next morning. She likes being halfway into her second glass of wine, her muscles all relaxed, and her eyes pleasantly droopy.

 

The best is when she’s living a memorable moment, that she knows she will look back on fondly.

 

Casey watches her friends on the couch across from where she’s cozying up in a chair next to the fireplace. Emily is laughing loudly, her head thrown back, at Sam and Ralph recounting old stories from their D-Rock days. It was only a handful of years ago, and yet it feels like forever ago. They are all done with University and embarking on their new journey. They might not have the opportunity for many moments like these in the future, once the schedules and true responsibilities of adulthood pick up, but they are enjoying the moment like time doesn’t matter.

 

Somehow, it’s just better after a few drinks. Maybe it’s that everyone's inhibitions are gone, so there are no more awkward stretches of silence where nobody knows what to say next. It’s just old friends meeting up at a winter cabin, having good old fun.

 

It’s also how light she feels, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Everything feels normal, happy and safe. 

 

She is also warm. She has a blanket thrown over her lap, and the fireplace at her feet keeping them from getting cold. Her cheeks are burning pleasantly, the warmth spreading down her neck, into her chest. Her skin is heating up across her body, making the texture of everything she touches so much softer. She feels so overly sensitive to everything, every feeling and touch.

 

Sometimes the touches are inebriating on their own. She has hugged Emily way more than usual all night, finding any opportunity to cuddle up and seek comfort from her best friend. Emily’s arms around her make Casey feel all nice and fuzzy inside. Hugs don’t feel that way when she’s sober.

 

And when Derek comes to sit on the arm of her chair and casually drapes an arm around her, whatever that feeling is at the bottom of her stomach, it doesn’t feel that way when she’s sober either (Or so she tells herself).

 

Derek’s hand is secure on her shoulder, he has a bottle clutched in his other one, and he’s leaning down closer so she can hear him above the din in the room, “You think Sam’s gonna fess up and actually ask her out?”

 

He’s holding her tighter than necessary, she’s tucked into his side and she feels the heat of his body spread onto her arm. His thumb is gently rubbing the skin exposed by the sleeve of her shirt threatening to fall off her shoulder. Maybe it’s just how over sensitive to everything she is, but it makes her feel even more dizzy and light headed.

 

“I don’t know,” Casey says vaguely, “do you think he has the guts for it?”

 

“It’s not about guts.” When she looks up at him, Derek’s got that stupid confident smirk on his face. Like he knows everything. “It’s about opportunity.”

 

She snorts, because it’s the only thing she can think of to respond to that. Even though she likes to think she can read him like an open book, she doesn’t always understand how his brain works, and sometimes it’s better for her sanity not to ask questions.

 

“There’s a right time for everything,” Derek says after a few moments of silence. Her head is still inclined in his direction, but he’s looking away. The smile is still at the corner of his mouth as he takes a sip of his beer, his brows furrowed pensively. As if feeling her eyes on him, he looks down at her again. “All in good time.”

 

He rubs up and down her shoulder as if he’s preparing to leave but he pulls her close again and drops a kiss on her forehead. It’s quick, and she barely registers it before he’s gone, but the feeling of his lips lingers long after, seared into her skin.

 

Her lids flutter over glassy eyes, her face feels flushed, and her limbs tingly. It’s another kind of drunk. It’s the kind that knocks the breath out of her. It’s the kind that has her heart pumping so quickly she feels her blood rushing all the way to her fingertips. It’s like being wrapped in a bubble, the feeling of her feet lifting off the ground. And she is not only light, she is weightless, she is content and giddy. She is happy.

 

She likes that feeling too.