I’ve legit had this idea in my head for days. Tyler getting drunk for the first time is my religion.
Word Count: 790
When your parents had said they were going on vacation the week before your birthday, meaning you would have free reign of the house, you knew exactly what you were going to do; throw the party to end all parties.
After nearly a month of planning, and one long night of shopping, everything had been put into place. Everyone who was remotely decent would be coming, no jerk-offs invited. Especially not Bryce, even though he offered to bring beer. You had very un-gently let him know that you had Jeff Atkins for that.
So the night arrived and now here you were, cheering alongside a few other people who you had yet to learn the names of as a pair of girls started doing body shots.
You felt a tap on your shoulder, and when you looked to see who it was you were greeted by the nervous face of Clay Jensen. He said something, but with the music blasting so loudly you couldn’t quite make it out. You gave him a confused look. He grabbed your shoulders, pointing you in the direction of the kitchen.
Your eyes widened when you caught site of Tyler, who was half falling out of a bar stool, his face squished uncomfortably against the countertop. He had at least five bottles sprawled around his feet, and that was just what you could see.
You gave Clay a pat on the shoulder and nodded, slipping through the crowd. Once you had made it to the kitchen you approached Tyler slowly, placing a hand on his lower back.
“Ty,” you said softly. “You okay?”
He groaned loudly, flexing his fingers. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, wobbling unsteadily, despite the fact that he was sitting down. He looked around, squinting at the party going on just in the other room. “Wha- I donnn’-” he slurred. “Heyy, babyy.”
You resisted the urge to laugh. “Oh, okay. You’re one of those types of drunks.” You picked up one of the empty bottles, tossing it in the trash. “How many did you have?”
He shrugged his shoulders sloppily, nearly toppling out of his chair. You caught him by the waist, comparing the way his long legs stumbled to a newborn deer trying to walk. “Prolly’ like, uhhh, ssseven,” he replied.
“Seven?” you asked. “Come on. Let’s get you some water.”
“No!” he snapped. His voice came out louder than even he was expecting, apparently, because he took a moment to recompose himself. “I havta tell you ssomethin’.”
“You can tell me later,” you replied.
He grunted, forcing himself out of the chair and onto his feet. You kept an arm around his waist, supporting him as he nearly tripped over his own two feet. When he tried to grab another beer from the fridge, you steered him away and towards the stairs.
“Okay, sweetheart,” you said, guiding him carefully up each step. “I think you need to go lay down in my room.”
“I havta tell youu,” he said again.
You ignored him, pulling him down the hall and into your bedroom. You brought him towards your bed, chuckling as he fell backwards onto it. You untied his shoes and pulled them off, chucking them somewhere to the side.
“Beer is grrreat,” he slurred as you pulled the blankets out from under him.
“Mmhm,” you hummed.
As you were fixing the pillows behind his head, he grabbed your wrist, pulling hard. You lost your balance, toppling over onto his chest. He rolled over, trapping you beneath himself. His lips found the crook of your neck easily, leaving a trail of careless, wet kisses.
“Okay, time to move,” you gasped, squirming beneath him. “Tyler, come on.”
His curly, disheveled hair tickled your cheek as he moved to your collarbone, his hands beginning to wander down. You pressed your palms flat against his chest, trying to push him off. The harder you tried, the heavier he seemed to become.
“Ty,” you whispered.
His hands found the hem of your shirt, not wasting a moment before pushing up underneath it, smoothing against the skin of your stomach. You bit back a pleased sigh, trying to find some other way to take control.
You hated to admit that you were enjoying yourself. You couldn’t. Not like this, while he was drunk off of his ass.
He stopped suddenly, collapsing onto his side. His breathing slowed from a pant to a steady rise and fall. Just when you thought he had fallen asleep, he motioned for you to come closer. You moved onto your knees, leaning in to listen.
“I hadta tell youu that I, um, neverr had alcohaall beforre,” he murmured.
You sighed, a smile itching at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, I figured.”
‘Bhangra’ is a traditional form of dance which originates from the Punjab region which was initially used as a celebratory folk dance, it normally consists of vasts amounts of energy, passion and repeated hand movements.