11 thats not my name (1/2)

”The hangover is just reminding your body that you're a fucking idiot,” I mock at Bee for drowning out her sorrows again last night.

”Please don't say that,” Bee groans, her head stuffed in the palms of her hands. She's crouching down and touching her knees in agony, moaning some more. Her brown hair is a glossy muddy puddle the way it sprawls and spreads around. ”Forgot my fucking sunglasses, ya happy?”

I chortle which eventually turns into laughter. It takes Bee smacking my arm endlessly until it turns into light giggles. I then fish out my black Aviator shades in my bag and hand them for Bee to borrow.

”Don't break them,” I ordered.

After snatching them out of my hand and hastily pushing them over her red-doe brown eyes, a much needed groveling thanks comes out of her chapped lips.

Six-thirty in the morning isn't an easy feat nor a lover to Bee's current state. Other than being thankful for the warmth, no one is at the school right now - any whisper of noise would literally make her scream and shout. The bell would be horrible.

Bee's hangovers are usually a hundred times worse than most and lasting until the end of the day. Or until she drinks, again. My bet is the latter. Always.

We're sitting on the bleachers near the football field, all the way on the top left corner. There's about twelve rows so we're pretty high up. Often if one of us pulls an all-nighter or wake up too early, we get the other party and drive to the school before anyone else.

In this case, I pulled the all-nighter and as I got to Bee's house, all I heard was retching. Over and over and over. And from the sound, she probably went a little too far this time. But then again, Bee always goes too far.

”Did you fucking smooch or somethin' ?” Bee press. Putting my elbows on my knees, I glance over to see her smirking; mischievously.

I squint. ”Jack Daniels didn't give you brain damage yet?” I question her question.

”So did you? Did you touch her tit again? Was it as gratifying as last time? Did you twist her lit-” I cover her mouth with my hand, wearing the annoyance on my sleeve.

”Go major in graphic design, put your sexual focus on that.” I jut with a slight sneer. Bee raises her eyebrows and gives my hand a wet slobbery tongue. I recoil, wiping my hand on the risers.

Keeping the subject at hand, ”Seriously, what did you guys do? Last I remember is you nearly dragging her out of the house before I got a say in anything.” She scrunches her brows before continuing, ”Did she not have shorts on?”

​

”Yes, she did,” I hastily replied.

Bee backs away with her hands raised, then puts them down after chuckling a little, ”Why so defensive?” I clench my jaw a bit; it's not that nothing happened. I personally don't see a reason for talking about it.

Bee seems to have finally gotten the hint and steered towards a different direction. ”She starts today, right?” I roll my eyes.

”Yes,” I mumble. ”Mom wants us to show her around,” grumbling on the fact I will probably have to go back to the house to pick her up.

”Is she driving her here then? Cause you're right here.” I blink.

”Gee, thanks Bee,” I chimed happily. Another reason to a-