"Hey Jess!" Sebastian said, smiling ear to ear. I gave him a warm smile.
"Hey sweetie. How was your day?"
"Uneventful. School was fucking stupid."
I tapped him on his shoulder twice. "But you did it, didn't you? The least I want you to do is graduate from high school."
"I guess," He muttered. "But I know we're just going to move back up to Toronto again sometime soon. I hate switching schools."
I rested my head on his shoulder, and I felt him stiffen. "I didn't settle down anywhere until here. I've probably lived in fifty different places in my eighteen years."
"You're the type that moves around a lot. You're more wild than I am. I hate moving. I've been doing it nonstop since I was three," Sebastian said, sighing slightly. He then changed the subject completely. "Age can be just a number, right?"
I laughed at him. "Yes, it can be. Why?"
I saw his face turn a shade of dark red. He grabbed my hand and held it against his leather-clad leg. "Can it be, for us?"
I sighed gently and rested my head against his firm shoulder again. "If you weren't so young, sweetie. I don't want to get anybody in trouble, especially you. Why don't you go on home now? You can call me either here or at Dave's tomorrow after school."
He got up, obviously embarrassed, but before he could make a run for it I grabbed his jacket and pulled his face towards me, where I gave him a kiss on the lips. "Goodnight, sweetie."
He grinned from ear to ear and ran off down the street. I laughed to myself, and decided to join the party again. Vince and Tommy were doing something interesting, by the looks of it, judging by the mass of people surrounding the two of them. I ignored them; it was best that way. Dave decided not to come due to the fact his dealer was out of cocaine and nobody would share any with him since he always hogged his. I saw a familiar face walk past me, and it took me a minute to register it was Eddie. I ran after him out the window and onto the sidewalk. "Hey, Eddie. How are you?"
"I only came because DLR wanted me to find some cocaine, but fuck that shit, man," He said, a beautiful smile creasing his face. "Wanna go practice some guitar? You're getting better at it every day, DLR tells me."
I smiled. "Sure, Eddie. I left my guitar at Dave's though. Do you have a spare one?"
He scoffed at me, kind of. "Do I have a spare one? Christ, Jessica, I have tons of money. Of course I have spares."
We got into his fancy sports car - I'm no good with car names - and he started driving down the street, opposite of the way I go to get to Dave's house. "Where are you living now?"
"Beverly Hills," Eddie said, keeping his eyes on the road. "Mind putting on the radio? I prefer 93.1 FM."
I turned the dial on his radio and coincidentally a Van Halen song came bursting through the speakers.
"Everybody wants some!" Eddie cried, and he started laughing. "Listen to that shit guitar."
"Oh please," I said. "You're the best fucking guitar player I've ever met."
"Besides Randy," Eddie added.
"Besides Randy," I repeated, agreeing with him.
I woke up in a large, round bed, very confused. Also a fucking terrible headache. I must have drank something last night, because I didn't remember a fucking thing. I looked over and saw a mass of black hair peeking through the white sheets. Turns out, I must have crashed at Eddie's for the night. I shook him, and he turned towards me with a tired smile and yawned. "Hey there. Last night was something, huh?"
I furrowed my eyebrows. "What the hell do you mean? We didn't have sex, did we?"
Eddie laughed. "No, but you had quite the few Jager's. You're going to have the mother of all hangovers today."
I groaned. "Well, since I don't remember anything, please enlighten me of last night."
He propped himself up on his elbows and began to tell me what happened. "We got to my place, and I offered you something to drink. You took a Jager and we started jamming in the basement. I think you had two or three more bottles of Jager, and then you decided it would be a fun idea to strip down to your underwear and run around the house screaming 'I'M FREE!' at the top of your lungs. Then you had two more bottles of Jager, and you passed out while taking a shower. You woke up half an hour later, put your clothes on inside out, had another bottle of Jager, puked all over yourself, and I had to change your shirt. Then you passed out in the corridor, and I had to drag you to bed."
"Holy fuck, how many fucking Jagermiester's did I drink?"
Eddie looked thoughtful for a moment. "Six or seven."
I held my head in my hands and groaned. "I'm going to have such a fucking hangover later," I whined. Eddie rubbed my back sympathetically. "You'll be okay. But you'll puke like a mother fucker for a few hours, then you'll be sore for a while, then you'll be normal."
"Remind me to never come to your place again," I muttered, getting out of bed and putting my original clothes on. "Say, you wouldn't mind giving me a ride to the Motley House, would you?"
"Not at all," Eddie said, getting out of bed. I got nauseous when he did so.
"Eddie, you sleep au naturel, eh?"
He looked down and started laughing. "Shit, I forgot about that. Sorry."
"Oh, oh, oh, Jessie's cryin'," I sang, which made Eddie crack up laughing while he was pulling his pants on. "C'mon, fuck shirts. I don't need one. Let's go."
Eddie walked me out to his car and sped on along the highway. I turned the radio on, and "Ten Seconds to Love" started playing. Eddie bobbed his head to the rhythm, and I obnoxiously screamed the lyrics out the window.
"Ten seconds to love! Ten seconds to love! Just wait, honey, 'til I tell the boys about you!"
Eddie was laughing at me, making a fool out of myself.
"You're real nice, asshole," I said jokingly. I kicked my feet up onto the dashboard and watched aimlessly at the cars speeding past. I must have fallen asleep, because Eddie was nudging me, and we were already at the Motley House.
"Thanks, sweetie," I said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. He hated it when I did that. He scowled, and I ran off, giggling. Waiting for me at the door was Vince, probably out for a smoke. His eyes looked tired, and his hair looked flat.
"Long night?" I asked, taking the cigarette from him and taking a drag. He took it back.
"Fuck you," He said groggily. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.
"I had close to seven bottles of Jagermiester last night, and my hangover hasn't hit yet. I'm hoping to go to bed and sleep the hangover off. So, have fun being a little bitch by yourself," I said giddily, taking off for the dilapidated bedroom where I slept. Tommy was sprawled out on one of the mattresses, looking so in sleep it was like looking at a coma patient. I hopped onto my filthy mattress and passed out.