The Way I Am Now (The Way I Used to Be)

“He’s a really good guy,” I hear Dominic saying. “Seriously the best guy friend I’ve ever had. He’s just messed up over this girl, I think. Plus, he hardly ever drinks, so he’s just sloppy AF tonight.”

“No, I get it,” someone else responds. “Been there. Well, not over a girl, but—you know . . .”

I open my eyes. Streetlights flash through the car windows. I’m on my side, scrunched up across the back seat of Dominic’s car. I hear myself groan. Every sound echoes in my head.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Dominic’s secret admirer guy says, smiling as he turns around to look at me from the passenger seat.

“Sleeping beauty, my ass,” Dominic says. “Do not vomit in my back seat.”

I reach for my phone, the screen blurry as I try to focus. It’s three in the morning. “She didn’t text me back,” I mumble.

“Luke, will you take that from him? We don’t need him drunk dialing his ex.”

“Here, why don’t you give that to me for now?” He’s so polite and gentle, I hand it right over.

“Luke,” I repeat his name. “I’m so rude, I d-did-in’t-introduce myself.”

“You introduced yourself, Josh,” Luke replies.

“Like five times,” Dominic adds.

“She didn’t text,” I hear myself say again.

“I know,” Dominic responds. “It’s okay.”

The next thing I know, I’m standing, sort of, between Dominic and Luke. They’re holding me up on each side, their arms under mine, and I’m stumbling up my front steps. Dominic is reaching into my pocket for my keys as if I can’t get my own keys. And I want to tell them they really don’t have to do all this, but I can’t seem to make the words come out.Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

Then we’re crashing through the door, and I reach out to grab the handle so it doesn’t smash into the wall and wake up my mom, but somehow I trip and we all fall forward on top of each other.

I’m laughing even though I’m trying to be quiet. Dominic is shhshh-ing me.

Next they’re spilling me onto the couch.

Then Dominic and Luke are standing across the living room with their backs to me, time skipping forward again, my mom and dad here now in their bathrobes and slippers. They’re all talking too quietly for me to hear.

Now they’re standing over me, and Mom has her hand over her mouth, shaking her head. Dad is looking at me like there’s something seriously wrong with me, as if I’m horribly disfigured or something. I bring my hand to my face with difficulty, feeling around for my eyes and nose and mouth, all of which seem to be in the right place.

I let my eyes drift shut again.