Drunken Writings, Sober, yet Heightened Feelings

Drunken Writings, Sober, Yet Heightened Feelings

We walked into Café E, a world of grunge bands, neon colors and drunken college freshmen. The brick walls were plastered with posters of crypto homo-rockers (Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, David Bowie, etc.). In the middle of the café, everyone crowded around the bar, ordering shots and pints of beer to fulfill their inebriation accounts. The smell of sex and sweat filled the air. Girls wore torn t-shirts that revealed their pert breasts and short jean shorts that their thighs seemed to devour. Guys sported white t-shirts, soaked in beer, and jeans that subtly showcased their assets and their shortcomings. The bartenders did not care how old you were. Even with horrible sound, the band played with a furious and fervent blindness that propelled the energy of the café, instilling wildness to the happily drunken crowd. The guys approached the girls, letting their hands wander; the ladies locked their lips with the boys, deciding after thirty seconds that he is the one. It was heaven.

However, while I marveled at the blessed ecstasy and the pure drunkenness of hallowed Café E, I could not help to stare at Federico. Cladded in dark, tight jeans and a yellow Muse t-shirt with a black jacket over it, Federico was the most handsome person in the café. Certainly, more so than me, especially since I sported blue, baggy jeans and a decorative Queen black t-shirt, both of which did not display anything appealing from my body. I’m not unattractive. People compliment my green eyes, my short unruly dark brown hair, and strangely my shoulders, calling them broad. I know I’m handsome, even if I wear glasses with scratched lenses or have awkward facial hair. However, I’m not as handsome as Federico.

We were wildly drunk. He was white-girl-wasted from savoring his bottle of lemonade and Svedka vodka mixture and devouring half a pint of beer. I was buzzed heavily from my lemonade alcoholic mixture. Sadly, I had no tequila. We yelled through the horrible bass tone, created by the rather dull bassist, who strangely enough looked like John Deacon. Drowning the conversation, the band roared through the room as the crowd cheered the chorus while Federico and I continued to down the Bud Light and sink further in our mischief.

 “You’re sexy!” Federico shouted over the band, as he moved his pint to his lips.

“You’re drunk. No more for you.” As I reached for his beer, Federico slapped my hand away, and clasped the pint as if it was his baby.

He declared riotously, “So are you! You’re just trying to take advantage of me!”

“Why would I take advantage of you?”
            He giggled and winked at me, “Because you like me!”

I took a deep sigh, feeling the alcohol leave me. “Give me a sip and I may allow you take advantage of what you see.”

Federico begrudgingly gave me the alcohol, only to ask, “De veras?”

“Si! But I get to decide what it may be at the end of the night.”

Catching on my game, he smiled and moved closer to me from his chair. He looked around, and after seeing no one was looking, he reached out and eagerly grabbed my ass. “You’ll be wonderful just sayin’,” he smiled gleefully.

I laughed and took a massive gulp of the pint. “You think so?”

He exclaims, “Yes! And I’ll be there. To help out, for your first time and all.” He is right. If we went through, Federico will be my first. We talked about it before, and sometimes we were close to having sex, but I always freeze up and tell him to stop. I feel bad every time we try, and Federico tells me that he understands, but I can’t help to feel apologetic. I told him that I have to love somebody, not just somebody. He is getting to that point. I just need see that he loves me for me. By this time, I joined in drinking some of his pint, though he kept taking it away, hugging it as if it was his child. Alcohol is our friend, though he loves mixed drinks and beer while I enjoy shots, specifically tequila.

The night progressed with more devout inebriation. A group of our friends joined us in the festivities, and having already pre-gamed before, they decided to buy Federico and I more pints of beer. Beer is a nice friend, but I’m dying without my tequila. Our friends seemed to enjoy the band, praising at the band members, specifically the long blond-haired guitarist who strummed his guitar strings with ease that for a moment I actually was going to give him some props. However, as that thought passed, the drummer accidently threw his drumsticks at a girl in the audience. She seemed to be in pain, cursing at the drummer with her hand covering the left side of her face. I assumed the stick hit her face.

Federico became noticeably drunker, grabbing my thighs and squeezing them rather roughly. He uproariously proclaimed, “I think you’re sexy!” He grabbed me from behind as I sat on my seat and wrapped me in his arms, kissing me all over. I am surprised since Federico is uncomfortable with public displays of affection. He ignored all reservations, pulled me out of my seat, turned me around, and made out with me in front of everyone. His hands began to wander, rubbing my back, and even grabbing my ass. I was enjoying every moment of the attention.

Then his alcohol caught up with him. Luckily, he found a trashcan right next to us, and just let it all out. I stood next to him, rubbing and patting his back as he grabbed a hold of the trashcan and continued to regurgitate his demons.

After a few minutes, the bouncer and a bartender came up. “Is he with you?” they asked.

I continue to comfort Federico as the lead singer suddenly sang a high note of his rock anthem. He was like Icarus reaching for the sun. “Yes!”

“Well, he has to go. He is making a scene,” they revealed.

I looked around and noticed several people gawking at us. I looked at Federico and his lovely self and pulled him up, “Time to go home, Federico.”

He looked at me with this childlike expression, and questioned innocently, “Are we going to fuck?”

I replied with a smile as the bouncer and bartender looked at us with golden stunned expressions, “I don’t think so.”

Strangely enough, Federico smiled back and nodded. I grabbed him and put his arm around my shoulders, and we started walking to the door to exit Café E.

As we were walking out, Federico was mumbling something.

“What?”

He whispered again, “I think I’m falling in love with you.” I stopped and dropped Federico on his ass, staring down at him as age-old clarity smacked my face.

He’s the one. I don’t really understand these feelings. I can’t even properly describe them. I can’t go to sleep, can’t keep still, can’t pause and ponder about something else, without thinking of him. Him. He creates the feelings, makes them fester in my soul and plague my mind. And for some reason, I welcome it. I just can’t help it. Maybe, it’s the way when he touches me, and how my skin tingles and the hair follicles rise. Maybe, it’s when I text  him, and I freak out when he doesn’t text back at that minute, even though I know he’s busy at the moment. On the other hand, it could be when I go through a busy day, and no matter what, I find myself thinking of him. Him.

He kills me. He makes my heart flutter, beat erratically, and I can’t stop it. I have no control. Is this love? If so, I welcome it, with open arms. You know, when I look at him, I can’t help but to smile. He just makes me smile.

“What the hell you did that for?” Federico angrily asked as he sat on the cement.

“Sorry, I just slipped.”

He looked at me dazed and smiled, “I’m ready to go to bed, somebody.

I picked up Federico, and as we trudged along out of Café E and back home. “Me too, Freddy. Me too.”