So Much to Learn (50 page)

"Let her stay
for a bit longer," someone called out.

"Who are you?
Her father?" Someone else sniggered.

I smiled at my
supporters, thinking what a great bunch of people I'd met that
night. All my friends seemed grouchy and boring compared to this
lot. All what friends though? The tiny rational part left of my
brain asked. Simone isn't talking to you and all your other close
friends are firstly friends of Matt and Jack's.

I looked up at
Adam again and tears filled my eyes as I croaked out, "You're my
only friend, Adam."

"Don't be
daft," he said, reaching over and grabbing my bag. "You've got lots
of friends, but I think it's time we left these ones and went home,
don't you?"

"Noooo!" My bar
mates and I howled, but Adam had hold of me tightly and was helping
me through the mass of people in the bar before the last vowel had
left my mouth.

One of my
stronger admirers, who had been with me since the second bar I'd
visited, protested further and got off his stool to come after us
but I saw Adam send him such a withering glare that he shrugged and
held up his hands in surrender. We paused for a moment on our way
outside as Adam told some people, presumably the ones he’d
originally gone to the bar with, that he was going home. I waved
cheerily at them so Adam's friends wouldn't think me rude and the
next second we were off again, Adam virtually carrying me.

Once we got
outside into the car park the crisp air hit me hard on all the
exposed bits of skin I had, which were quite numerous, and I
shivered violently.

"Are you going
to be sick?" Adam asked anxiously, rearranging my arm to around his
neck and his arm around my waist the better to support me.

"Nope," I
answered merrily, watching with some degree of interest as the
asphalt passed along underneath me. I felt like I was floating.

"Give it time,"
Adam said grimly.

We reached his
car with only one or two stumbles, and he propped me against the
back door as he unlocked the front and basically bundled me into
the passenger seat. Automatically I grabbed the seatbelt and
attempted to slot the clip into the base, but for some reason, I
couldn't get my aim right and I kept missing. I giggled weakly and
shrugged, deciding that it was too much effort and I'd just do
without a belt that trip. The next second, however, Adam reached
over me and slotted the clasp closed seemingly effortlessly.

"You're so
smart," I breathed in admiration and I saw him roll his eyes
slightly before going round the other side of the car and climbing
into the drivers' seat. As he slid his key into the ignition he
asked,

"Will Matt or
Jack be there to look after you when I drop you home?"

"No!" The
lovely floating feeling disappeared and I suddenly felt panicked.
"I don't want to go home. Can't I come to yoursh?"

"Of course you
can." Adam's tone was reassuring but also, understandably, a bit
surprised. Thankfully, he didn't ask any more questions just then
and I was able to concentrate fully on not letting the lights of
the streetlamps flashing by or the rocking motion of the car make
my brain hurt too much.

Once at his
flat Adam released me from the seatbelt and guided me expertly into
his building, quickly depositing me on the couch that I'd slept on
only that morning (or was it previous morning by now?) before
padding into the kitchen and pouring me a large glass of water. I
grinned inanely at him as he sat down beside me and steadied my
hands around the glass. Although I wasn't very thirsty (after all
I'd been drinking all night) I obediently started gulping down the
water as he was looking at me with quite a concerned look on his
face.

"You've only
taken alcohol tonight, right?" He asked as I took my last swallow.
"I don't need to take you down to the hospital to get your stomach
pumped or anything, do I?"

There was
enough lightness in his tone to show that he was half joking but
that still meant that he was just as much serious. It took me a few
moments, as I clumsily put the glass down on his coffee table, to
realise what he meant, but when understanding finally dawned, I
felt a bit cross that he felt he needed to ask me that.

"No, I'm not
scchhhtupid!" I protested, wishing that 's' sounds weren't so darn
difficult to pronounce.

"I didn't say
you were," he responded mildly and I instantly forgave him.
Snuggling closer to him on the couch, I rested my head on his
shoulder, feeling a twinge of wrongness about it as I did so, but
in my heavily inebriated state, unable to pinpoint exactly why that
was.

We stayed like
that for a long while, neither of us saying anything, the low hum
of the fridge the only noise in the room. My thoughts bounced
around like a squash ball in the middle of a frenetic game which
was quite appropriate because my head was beginning to feel like
someone was playing squash inside it. Still, in a rare drunken
flash of insight, I knew that the thumpings I was experiencing in
my head then were nothing compared to how it would feel tomorrow. I
brushed thoughts of the next day aside quickly. I wasn't prepared
to face that just yet, it was better to live in the present and in
the present I was sharing a nice moment with Adam, a guy who had
proved to be a most brilliant friend.

"I like you,
Adam," I mumbled and I could hear the small smile in his voice as
he replied,

"I like you
too."

Suddenly, and
seemingly without any prelude or warning, I found myself wondering
what it would be like to kiss him. He was a nice guy after all and
I genuinely, drunk or not, cared about and liked him a lot. Did the
lessons I'd had with Jack mean that I wouldn't experience any of my
customary awkwardness? Would I get the tingles same as I did when I
kissed Jack? Were my feelings when I was with Jack not as unique as
I thought they were? Well, there was one way to find out.

I decided to go
for it, lifting my head and reaching a hand up to cup Adam's face.
He looked down at me in astonishment and I saw a wary look enter
his eyes.

"Talia, what-?"
He began but I cut him off in the next second by yanking his face
down and crushing my mouth against his.

His lips were
smaller than Jack's, that I realised off the bat, and my face
didn't fit quite so well against his. Also, his nose was much
larger and pushed against my cheek awkwardly as I tried to summon
up some passion and enthusiasm for what I was doing.

More obvious
than the physical differences, however, were the feelings, or
rather lack of feelings, I felt inside as my lips moved against
his. Apart from all the alcohol and water sloshing around inside me
I felt hollow. No butterflies, no tingles, no rapid heartbeats, no
explosion of giddiness…I felt nothing.

Oh no, wait!
Hang on a minute! Suddenly I did feel a great swell of emotion
which dredged up every last residue of passion and feeling I had
left inside me and exploded painfully in my head and chest. But it
was far from positive.

Ripping my lips
from Adam's I just managed to bury my face against his chest before
I let out the great howl of misery that I hadn't been able to
release back at the flat earlier in the afternoon. My wretchedness
was all consuming and I started to sob my heart out, freeing a
whole bucket load of fat, salty tears out onto Adam's shirt and
unabashedly making loud bawling noises which were something akin to
the sound you hear when someone accidentally treads on a cat’s
tail.

Poor Adam!

To his credit,
after only a second's pause as he froze like a rabbit caught in
headlights, he patted my back and made awkward hushing noises to
try and console me. It was incredibly nice of him, but
unfortunately, completely useless as I was well beyond consolable
by that point.

I wanted my
mum, I wanted my dad, I wanted my brother, but more than that, more
than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life, I wanted Jack
and it ripped me apart knowing that it was my own fault that I
couldn't have him.

I would reckon
over an hour passed as I rode wave upon wave of misery. Just when I
thought I was coming down on one I'd get picked up by another and
flung back into the deep end. Eventually, however, even my deepest
well of melancholy dried up, but feeling absolutely and thoroughly
wrung out and drained, I remained flopped soggily against Adam for
several minutes after the sobs had subsided. It wasn't just that I
was so exhausted that I was loathe to move, there was the added
horror of having to look Adam in the face once I lifted myself off
him. Poor boy must have had a coronary as a drunk nutcase threw
herself at him and kissed him before pinning him to the couch as
she soaked his shirt right through with tears and deafened him with
howls.

I couldn't stay
where I was forever though so, in due course, I peeled my red,
puffy face off his chest and sat back, my vision still a little
blurred behind a film of tears. Clasping my hands tightly together
in my lap and staring down at them I cleared my throat, raw from my
sobs, and said croakily, "I cannot even begin to say how sorry I am
about that." It seemed like the tears I had been crying had
contained a whole lot of the alcohol I'd consumed throughout the
evening as the 's' sounds were no problem to me that time and all
the bubbly, carefree feelings had, needless to say, fled long
ago.

"No problem."
Adam's voice was, disturbingly, as light and good-humoured as it
always was. "My mum always says it's better out than in."

"Perhaps," I
said slowly, looking up at him to see if he really was as cool as
he sounded or whether he just had really good control of his voice,
"but I shouldn't have got it 'out' all over your shirt."

Adam pulled at
the patch of wet, now almost completely see-through, shirt and I
winced as it made a sucking sound as it came away. "Ah well," Adam
gave a little shrug and rueful grin, "it needed a wash anyway."

I gave a little
laugh which came out as a sort of bubbly choke as there were still
a lot of liquids swirling around my nose and throat. "You are
beyond fantastic," I said fervently. And I meant it, despite my
predilection to make emotional statements like that while under the
influence. How many guys do you know who would handle a clearly
hysterical girl that well? I could only think of one and there are
no prizes for guessing who I mean.

"But I've been
a real bitch to you as well and I'm so sorry," I continued. "I
shouldn't have kissed you like that especially after what you said
to me in the café about you and me…" I trailed off uncomfortably,
but Adam just nodded to show he knew what I was talking about. "And
also especially after you rescued me from the bar because I get now
that that was what you did, God knows how much I could've drunk and
what could've happened if you hadn't come along. So, yeah, if
you’re really pissed off at me don't feel alone, there's a whole
bunch of people I've hacked off this year who I'm sure would
welcome you into their fold with open arms."

Careful, a
voice inside me warned, that last bit smacked of bitterness. That
and my rambling sentences were reminders that despite the
improvements in my speech I was still more than a little drunk.

"Don't beat
yourself up about it. It's all cool." Adam's voice was gentler than
I’d ever heard it and distracted me from thoughts of exactly how
long it was going to take before I sobered up and really had to
face the consequences of my actions. I looked at him uncertainly,
could it really be that easy? Correctly interpreting my disbelief
he gave a little laugh and added, "I'm not saying that it's done my
ego any good having a girl I liked kiss me and then burst into
tears, but I'll get over it."

Liked. Past
tense. Excellent!

"Still," I
checked one last time, "if there's anything I can do to try and
make it up to you…"

"I tell you
what," Adam grabbed my glass, got up off the couch and headed
towards the kitchen, "how about we try to head off your hangover as
best we can while you tell me what the hell all that crying was
about. It can't possibly be because I'm that bad a kisser can
it?"

"Totally
unrelated," I assured him with a smile as he came back over to the
couch and passed me the now refilled glass of water.

Then I told him
everything because there really was nothing to hide anymore. And,
although mine and Jack's secret coming out had virtually destroyed
both of us, a small part of me sighed in relief at the lies finally
being over.

~*~

Waking up the next morning was one of the most physically
painful things I had ever had to endure. As soon as I cracked one,
still swollen, eye open a whole raft of aches, pains, thumpings and
swirlings assailed me. As I peeled my dried out tongue off the roof
of my mouth I fervently wished I'd chosen to down lemonades last
night
without
the
vodka.

Forcing myself
to open the other eye and try to assess my surroundings, I saw
that, in a strong bout of déjà vu, I was lying on Adam's couch with
the same duvet and pillow I'd used the morning before. I sat up
gingerly and then gave a little groan of horror as I realised I was
about to be sick all over Adam's couch…

"Bucket?" Came
a horrifyingly chirpy voice from above and the next second a blue
plastic bucket was whisked underneath my chin just in time to catch
the results of my retching. Adam stood by solicitously and then
handed me a bunch of paper towel and another glass of water before
deftly removing the bucket, emptying it, cleaning it and bringing
it back for me in case I needed to go again.

"Ooh you're a
sight for sore eyes," Adam said merrily once I'd wiped at my mouth
and swilled some water around in it. "You sure know how to make a
guy feel bad about what he missed out on."