Ecstasy

2

Zara

When I wake up, Alex is snoring softly beside me.

It’s still dark outside, but I blink a few times, make out the time on the alarm clock beside the bed.

It’s four in the morning.

My head is pounding, my throat feels like sandpaper.

What the fuck happened last night?

My hand goes to my chest and I stifle down a scream as I realize I’m fucking naked. It’s not that I’ve never woken up naked beside Alex but we…

Fuck.

I can’t really see Alex in the dark, but when I slowly move away from him, I realize he’s naked, too.

Did we have sex last night? Did we make up?

I try to remember, but everything is so damn blurry. Not again.

This shit has happened one too many times the past three years. I bite back a groan, slowly slide off the bed and plant my feet on the floor.

My hair is damp, and I taste chlorine in my throat.

The fucking pool.

I feel something against my toes and squat down, grasping for it. It’s my…clothes. What I was wearing before I stripped down to my bikini in Alex’s room. Before we got into that fight and he tried to kick me out.

I feel my hand out blindly, the room so damn dark, and find my tank to, too, and in the back pocket of my jeans is my phone.

I use the flashlight on it to quickly get dressed.

Big thanks to the MVP who brought over my shit.

When I’m dressed, the jeans feeling very bizarre against my bare ass, I walk out the door, realizing with a jolt we’re in the guest bedroom. Alex is still snoring behind me as I pull the door to and stand out in the hall, listening.

It’s silent in this house. So different from all the people and the noise and the music last night.

Speaking of… what the hell happened last night?

I blow out a breath, consider pulling my phone out of my pocket and going through all the missed notifications I saw back in that bedroom but decide against it. I don’t really want to know what bullshit I pulled after all those stimulants and all that alcohol.

Alex fed me Xanax.

I almost fucked him and Eli.

Jesus. I’ve barely even spoken a string of words to Eli since I’ve known him.

I need a glass of water.

I use my flashlight to head toward the stairs at the opposite end of the hall, then put my phone back in my pocket, once again ignoring the notifications. I creep down the stairs, see people passed out in the living room, on the couch, the floor. One dude is slumped in a seated position at the bottom of the steps, right by the front door, his head at a very uncomfortable angle against his shoulder.

Kylie drove me last night, but I can walk back to our apartment. It’s not that far.

First, I need water because every step makes my head light up in pain.

Various levels of snoring fill the living room as I walk down the hall, and I smell alcohol and something sour.

Probably vomit.

The kitchen is a wreck.

There are tipped over bottles and plastic cups all over the island in the center of the room, more covering nearly every inch of the countertops. There’s a brown puddle on the floor in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, and there’s someone sleeping on the table. Some dude on his stomach with his arms spread wide, like he’s cuddling the fucking table.

Thankfully, no one is sleeping in the kitchen.

My bare feet crunch on something as I head toward the stainless-steel fridge, desperate for water. I pause, looking down.

Ritz crackers, and the empty box of them is strewn a few feet away. Damn. Someone was hungry.

I keep walking toward the fridge, my head pounding with every step.

But the pain doesn’t stop unwanted thoughts from whirring.

I tried to make up with Alex. We fought. He tried to kick me out. I went downstairs and danced on the coffee table instead.

Alex came over. He was drunk. He hardly ever gets drunk because when he does, he acts like a complete dick.

He pulled down my top, someone tried to touch, me and Eli was there.

Fuck. Alex flashed my tits.

The thought is almost enough to make me run out of here, my stomach churning. If there’s a video and my mom fucking sees it, I am so screwed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I glance out the window over the sink—also filled with cups and bowls and something that looks like ramen noodles sticking to the faucet—and catch sight of the serene in-ground pool, illuminated by lights flush with the concrete.

The pool.

My blood runs cold, my fingers around the handle of the fridge as my eyes remain fixed on the pool, thinking about what happened last night.

Some of the lounge chairs are turned over, there are a few beach towels lying around the concrete.

Alex almost drowned me in that pool.

The calm surface seems to reflect the still-dark sky, but there are lights beneath the water and… What the fuck is that?

I bring my hand to my mouth, dropping my hold on the door of the fridge.

There’s no one around the edge of the pool but there’s…

Oh my God.

My limbs feel numb as I take a hesitant step toward the window.

No.

That’s not…

I force myself to walk toward the sliding glass door for a better view. A different angle. A way to make this all make sense.

My fingers press against the cool glass and my chest tightens as I rest my forehead against the door, blinking.

Because I must still be drunk. I’m still fucked up. There’s no fucking way.

I hear something move behind me.

Before I can scream, a hand comes over my mouth and a voice whispers in my ear, “There’s a body in the pool, baby girl.”