Fan Fiction ❯ Birthday Wishes ❯ Birthday Wishes ( One-Shot )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

By: Yami396

A sixteen-year-old girl, shot-glasses of Vodka, a bar of disreputable reputation, and the crazy idea of getting wasted and driving off into the night with a random hottie is never a good thing to mix.

Tied for Second in the Make a Wish Contest.

Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Comedy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 06.26.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 820 | Status: Completed

Birthday Wishes

Yami-396

Just a fun little thing for MM.org's contest.

.::o0o::.

Okay, so maybe sitting in a dirty bar that didn't care if they served minors as long as said minors paid the tab and tipped well wasn't the best of choices for a birthday wish, but ever since Geneva had described to me the strange pleasures of getting totally wasted and having some random hot guy drive her home, I'd had the inane desire of trying it out myself. So what if I was only sixteen? I had plenty of money, and like I said, here in the Blue Haze, they didn't care as long as I gave up that money.

Mulling over my fifth Bloody Mary, brain already buzzing, I thought back to how exactly I came to this strange and rather stupid conclusion. I guess I was tired of being the loser among friends I didn't have, and that combined with not being able to do all the other cool things sixteen-year-olds do led me to stomp out of my parents beach house, decked out in a red micro-skirt, ten-inch heels, and a halter top, completely intent on going to the bar, getting tipsy, and scoring. Then said dreamboat, who I shall call Nameless, would scoop me up, and we would drive off like they do in the movies. The sun would be setting, a beautiful combination of red, orange, and gold, tinting the sky pink and purple, and the clouds deep red rubies. And Nameless and I would ride off into it, in a silver Porsche, the wind tousling our hair as we sped down the interstate, while the last rays of sunset dipped into the sparkling blue waters, its reflection slowly blinking away into nothingness…I sighed into my drink, and the bartender, wiping a dirty glass with a dingy rag looked over at me.

“Want another one, toots?” he asked. I nodded and held out my glass, ignoring the little part of my brain that still functioned properly telling me I already had way too much to drink.

“Something stronger,” I slurred, and he grinned wolfishly.

“Got just the thing for ya,” he drawled, and he and his girth disappeared under the ledge, rummaging through glasses. “Ever had some Vodka?” he asked.

“Just gimmie what you got,” I mumbled, leaning back in my seat. If this was what it felt like to be drunk, it sucked pretty hard.

“It'll cost ya good,” he warned, setting the glass in front of me. I downed the shot in seconds.

“Don' care,” I said, slapping the glass down. “Hit me hard.” If the bartender understood the implied, yet unintentional innuendo, he didn't show it, he just lined up a few more shot glasses and filled them to the brim. “Cheers!” I yelled, nearly tipping off my stool as I downed another. Once I got over the first wave, getting wasted wasn't that bad. But I still needed to find my Nameless!

I scanned the crowd. Most of them were men, past their primes by decades, looking for pretty girls to stare at and beer to drown their sorrows in. They weren't my type, nor were they bothered to look away from any of the waitresses. There were a few college students by me, not that much older than me, but they weren't looking in my direction. In a fit of drunken rage, I pulled my halter-top lower, trying to spruce up my cleavage none too discreetly, and pulled back my shoulders, badly imitating the posture I had seen in the new PCD music video. Didn't work. Either I was incredibly unattractive, or they were too drunk to appreciate me. Yeah, that was it: They were too drunk. How could they miss this? I flipped my hair, and slouched forward again, running my fingers around the rim of the shot-glass.

The door opened, the little annoying bell above it jingling cheerfully, a bit out of the character in this place, and I glanced surreptitiously at it as humid night air flowed in. And boy was I glad I did!

There in the doorway stood my Nameless. He was tall and built, his shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. I watched, probably drooling, as he walked in, hands in his pockets, the soft lighting like high-definition on his drop-dead gorgeous face, his nice straight white teeth positively gleaming. His blue eyes found mine, and he grinned boarder and made his way over to the empty seat next to me. I was in heaven.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rich. I melted in my chair, feeling all warm and tingly inside.

“H-hi,” I stammered and cleared my throat. “Hey,” I said again, trying to reach into my inner goddess. Too bad it was Diana of the Hunt.

“Drinks good here?” he asked, and I admired the way his black bangs fell into his eyes, noticing his eyelashes were thick and full. I licked my lips, praying he didn't see it.

“Yeah,” I nodded, completely unable to form more than single-word sentences. “Yeah, they're pretty good.” There! Four words!

“Been putting some down, I see,” he said, motioning to the line of Vodka in front of me. I flushed worse than I already was.

“Well, you know…” I mumbled, embarrassed for some odd reason. He laughed, and leaned over, his elbow resting inches from mine. My heart exploded and shards of it went into my throat sticking there so I couldn't breathe.

“What's you name?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he said, “I'm Shadow.” Had I already died, `cause I think I just died again…

“I'm Elena,” I said shyly, ducking my head.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” My head snapped up, and I laughed, nervously reaching for another glass of Vodka and accidentally tipped one over. The bartender gave me a dirty look. “Sorry, that was lame.”

“No, no, it's okay!” I stuttered, pouring the burning drink into my mouth. “You know what? It's kind of late. I should really get going now.” Was I an idiot?! But still, I stood up, and misjudged the distance between the floor and the stool horribly. My heels twisted under me, and my legs buckled, my feet tripping over each other as I desperately tried to regain balance. I couldn't, and my arms flailed out, catching the stool as I fell gracelessly, bringing it down with me with a very loud crash. The college students whooped and hollered, some toasting me. Shadow jumped down and helped me up, and I just kind of laid in his arms, half mortified, half in the heaven that was his arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing off some grime from my shoulder.

“I'll be if you keep touching me,” I said, too drunk to care that I sounded like the dimwitted heroine of a cheesy romance novel. He laughed again.

“You're cool, you know that,” he said, picking up one of the random seashells that littered the bar, a sort of tribute to the summertime weather. I watched his fingers twirl it around, his eyes examining it as if it held the answers to the universe. The candles flickered almost romantically and my voice caught in my throat as he leaned towards me again, the candlelight framing his face, making him all the more the personification of hotness. “You seem kind of young to be here. How old are you?” His breath ghosted over me, and he smelled sweet.

“Just turned sixteen,” I said dreamily, grinning from ear to ear.

“Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kissme, kissmekissmekissme!” I thought frantically. He leaned even closer.

“That's real young,” he whispered, his hand disappearing into his pocket. I thought I was going to implode from the tension as I leaned forward too, hoping that he was going to kiss me. Finally! My first kiss!

“Not too young,” I whispered back, and I wriggled in my seat, placing my hand on the back of his chair. Something gold flashed in my vision, and I shot back, a police badge coming into focus.

“Officer Jake Coster,” he said, his tone all business. My mouth dropped open, and the sight of the badge snapped me from my drunken dementia. “We've been watching this place for underage drinking for a while now,” he explained. The bartender took one look at us, saw the badge, and beat a hasty retreat into the restrooms. I nearly started to cry from hysteria. Had I just tried to seduce a police officer?! Please, is there a rock I could crawl under? Or how about a black hole?

“Crap!” I muttered, banging down my glass. It was the only thing I could do. “Crap!” I said again, louder. Dimly, I realized the entire bar had fled.

“At least it's only a fine,” Officer Coster said, smiling apologetically. “Come on, I'll give you a ride. You can't walk home in your condition.”

“This sucks!”

“Just doing my duty.”

“I'm gonna die!”

“It won't be too bad.”

“You just wait.”

True to my word, it turned out pretty bad. My mother wasn't exactly thrilled; when Officer Coster knocked and she saw me in the backseat of the cruiser, her first reaction was to brandish the kitchen knife she was holding in my direction.

“What have you done!?” she shrieked, and Officer Coster took a step back, his hand automatically reaching for his gun. He explained, and her mouth tightened into one grim line, and as soon as he was gone, she seized my ear and held it hostage. “Just wait until your father hears about this!” she yelled, dragging me to the stairs.

My father was bit more understanding; he just yelled and stripped me of all my rights as a U.S. citizen for a few months. Or it could have been years, I wasn't really sure, since my head was pounding worse than my stereo did when I blasted Slipknot, and I spent the next day becoming personally acquainted with the toilet bowl.

So yeah, my first time getting wasted was a bust, and I don't think I'll be trying any more stunts like that anytime soon, but hey! At least I'll have a funny story to tell my friends as soon as I'm allowed to come within a five-mile radius of the phone!

.::o0o::.

And that is why you shouldn't drink until you're twenty-one! You never know!