The Memories ReplayMature

Getting Sophie drunk was not the best idea. We both don't handle alcohol that well, especially since we're both small for our genders. She was already bad enough but after an hour she was definitely trashed.

"I...I deserve better than Broderick," she slurred, the truthful drunk.

"Mhm," I mumbled, staring thoughtfully at my shoelace.

"I deserve someone who doesn't think...drink and bedrunken themselves."

"Mhm."

She settled her hand on my chest, eyes foggy with the brandy, "Papper, pooter,

Cooper, am I pretty?"

"Mhm," I was obviously very vocal with my consumption. She giggled at a fairly high frequency, high enough to make me wince.

"Oh Coopy, want to hear a secret?"

I shrugged. Once again, a drunk of many words.

Sophie was suddenly the sitting on me making me jump out of my drunken stupor. Her body wasn't heavy at all and it made me think of how we were when we were in high school...

 

We were out in her backyard, lying on a blanket and staring up at the summer night's sky, "Do you know everything that's out there?" Sophie asked. Her blonde hair was much longer, well past her shoulders, but her bubbly cheeks and bright green eyes were all the same.

"The future I guess," I wasn't paying nearly as much attention to the sky as I was her. I wanted to remember every contour her face possessed.

"What do you see in your future?" Again with the deep questions; Sophie was full of them. It made me shrug, "I don't know. Hopefully, to be a psychologist like I've wanted," I watched the tendrils of her hair with the faint night breeze, "There's one thing I'm sure of though."

She turned her head, eyes locking with mine, "Oh? What's that?"

I laughed and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her slight weight on top of me, "That whatever future I'm in, you're in it with me. Obviously."

Her braid fell off her back and its tail tickled my cheek, but I didn't brush it away. I was too mesmerized by her smile reaching her eyes in a manner that made them almost sparkle, "Really?"

"Yes silly," I put my hands on either side of her face, putting her lips to mine, bringing the usual jolt to my heart when we touched. We ended the kiss, but I kept her face close to mine, "When?" I breathed.

Sophie rolled her eyes, "God is that all you boys thing about," she was taking it in good humor though, "Soon," she whispered back. With that she laid her head against my chest and traced invisible patterns on my neck with her finger, "Besides, why rush when we have forever?"

 A week later, for reasons to this day I'm still not sure of, I broke up with Sophie.  I let her know that it might not be permanent, that we might slide back into place.

A week after the breakup Sophie chopped off long hair off. I suppose it was her way of coping with the situation, I'm not sure. She was seventeen, I sixteen.

 

And now here was Sophie's slight weight on my lap again. She hardly felt any different than in high school, but she also didn't look any different, "Sure, what's the secret?"

She smiled and laid her head on my shoulder, allowing me to easily feel her breath and lips on my neck's skin.

"I-I still likey you....aaaaaaaaa lot."

Those words and the feeling of her soft lips against my skin just about made my brain and heart explode like two giant fireworks.

*                      *                    *

"Sophie, please don't blame yourself. It's not your fault."

His words wouldn't reach me, but instead it was a steady drone echoing in my head.

I wouldn't, no; I didn't want to look at him. What was the reasoning? Even though he technically explained it for thirty minutes beforehand, I thought it was all bullshit, didn't listen to it.

I didn't say a word, trying to make him catch the idea that I was hurt beyond belief.

He sniffed, "It's no one's fault. Please don't go blaming yourself afterwards."

Was he crying? Out of the corner of my eye I saw his hand move to wipe his nose. Unfortunately, curiosity got the best of me and I looked up.

He wasn't sobbing obviously, trying to look tough and not care that he was making me fall apart. But the tears shone under the stars, like the tiny diamonds of the necklace he bought me a month ago for my birthday, hidden by the jacket I threw on when he called.

"Can you please say something? Anything?" He looked at me, tear-stained eyes begging.

No, I won't. What should I say? I wanted to slap him so badly. Instead I stared at him, eyes making sure to expose my hurt. His blue eyes appeared almost unreal with them surrounded by redness from crying; even his glasses couldn't hide that. Yet his hair sat perfectly on his head, almost covering his eyes in an adorable fashion, and his dimples were still visible even though he was far from smiling.

"Can I at least get a hug?"

No, you can't. Yet there were his arms, ready to embrace me, but I made sure to stand like a statue. Don't give away any emotion, I thought, give nothing away.

As he embraced me I felt his body shudder a sob...and just like that as he let everything go, so did I. I didn't hug him back oh never, but I did let the waterworks go. I watched my tears fall from my eyes onto his neck, oh the neck I've studied to the point of having every bit of it memorized, and disappear under the collar of his shirt.

When he released me he still kept one hand on my cheek, almost like he was trying to catch my tears, "I love you Soph."

I moved my face away from his touch, "Just go home Cooper."

 

I awoke from my nightmarish memory and shot up into a sitting position, only to feel my head throb, "Oh ow."

I lay back down and heard a familiar laugh over the pounding of drums, "Got up a little too fast there Brandy?"

I winced from the sound of a voice, "Bridget? Wha...how'd I get here?" I surveyed the room, making sure I wasn't imagining things.

"Cooper brought you here. I guess you were so drunk you just fell asleep. Well...you were almost asleep."

I sat up again, slowly this time. My party dress was gone, leaving me in my bra and the sweatpants Cooper gave me last night, "Hence the obvious hangover?"

She chuckled again, "Of course. He said you drank over half a full bottle of brandy. Not even the biggest frat boy could handle that," the smile left her face, "You should probably know what you were saying before you fully passed out."

I laughed, "Was it really that bad?"

She didn't laugh with me, face remaining so stiff it wiped my own grin away, "Could it?"

Bridget closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "You better take these before I tell you," she put her hand out to me, opening it to reveal two little pills: painkillers. I graciously took them and gulped them down, feeling the pain subside almost immediately.

"Ok, so what's this awful thing you have to tell me?"

Bridget ran her fingers through her hair, something I've learned to be a habit of hers when she's frustrated, stressed, or worried. And while she did this I was reminded of the exoticism she possessed. Bridget was an interesting character of genetics. Her father was an Asian while her mother was a Caucasian with dark chestnut hair and equally dark eyes. Now while her older brother looked identical to her father, Bridget was more interesting. Instead of black hair she had her mother's chestnut hair, though always perfect like any other Asian’s hair.

The strangest part about her though was her eyes. Though they were the lean, almond-shape of her father's, they were a shocking icy-blue color. Neither of her parents had it, so it was said to be some random genetic mutation that she received. Whatever the reason was, the color made her appear fierce and almost frightening all the time. This look was elaborated even more when she was irritated, or in this case, exhausted with worry, "Well to start off, you're a truthful drunk. You blabber anything and whatever it was, was the truth."

"Ok, so what's the problem with that?"

"Ugh you're honestly sometimes as bad as the rest of the girls here," she ran her fingers through her hair again, while walking back and forth from one end of the room to another, "Would you like me to quote some of things you said?"

I said nothing, knowing it was a rhetorical question.

"Ehem.’Oh Coopy your hair looks amazing from this angle. Coop, that sweater looks amazing, you should take it off. Coop please kiss me! I wuv you. Oh-"

I motioned for her to stop, "I get it," I said weakly, feeling ill, "Did...did I really say that?"

Bridget crossed her arms across her chest, "And more."

"Oh fuck!" I ignored my headache and dove under my sheets, hoping to hide from the truth, "I knew I should never get drunk. Oh was I so stupid!"

Someone knocked at the door and I moaned with embarrassment.

"Calm down Soph, it's only Ali," Bridget opened the door, allowing the beast in.

"Oh my- Oh, it's you," she sneered at Bridget before flitting about the room before sitting on the window sill, "Where's Sophie? Cause there is this adorable boy outside!"

"She's not here. She we-"

"Tell him I'm throwing up. Tell him I have MRSA, and AIDS, and Mono, and herpes, and scarlet fever, and anything else that's contagious," I cried from my bed.

"You heard her. Shoo him away."

Ali remained at the sill for a minute or so before finally listening and walking out. I whipped the covers off myself, "Oh thank God. That was close."

"Yeah well you're on your own now. I'm heading off to the gym," she picked up her keys and walked toward the door.

"Oh yeah I'll be fine. I'll lock the door when you leave and sleep off this stupid hangover."

Bridget smiled, eyes brighter now, "Ok, I don't know when I'll be back. Bye!"

She was already gone by the time I waved. Once the door was shut I sprang up and locked it, then sprinted over to the windows, pulling the blinds shut. After I was happy with the dimness in the room I took off Cooper's sweatpants and the bra I had on last night. Finding one of the large t-shirts of Broderick's that he gave me on the floor, I put it over my short hair.

But, then the sweatpants caught my eye. I had lazily tossed them onto my desk chair when I took them off, so I picked them back up, rubbing the cloth between my fingers.

Then, without thinking, I put the pants up to my face and took a deep breath, "Cooper," I whispered with a smile. He smelled the same four years ago.

When I crawled back under my covers, it was with Broderick's shirt and Cooper's pants, which for some odd reason made me chuckle.

*****

The problem with sleep is that someone or something always wakes you up. This time it was the pounding of someone's fist against my door, most likely being Bridget. I groaned, desperately wanting to stay in my warm bed, "Don't you have your key?"

No answer. More pounding, "Jesus," I grumpily yelled, but I did get up.

Right when I opened the door, ready to scold my room mate, a male voice was heard, "You sure don't look like you have AIDS, or Mono, or scarlet fever."

"Cooper?!" I hid myself behind the door, hoping he didn't see me still wearing his pants, "I....uh...what...how did you-"

"We need to talk."

The End

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