Page 81 of Burn

Constellations

Lex

Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.

The sound throbs in my ears, and I can’t be sure if it’s the bass from the music or my heartbeat. The lights in the restroom have the strangest aura, like a halo around them, and I blink hard, trying to clear it. When that doesn’t work, I squeeze my eyes shut and grip the edge of the sink — my whole body tingles, and not in a way I’ve ever experienced from drinking.

I mentally tally the drinks I’ve had since we arrived. Five? Six? Over how many hours? The room tilts, and even my grip on the counter doesn’t stop it.

I crack one eye and look at my reflection: it’s like looking into a fun house mirror, except I’m not having fun. This feeling hit while I was dancing with Blake. I stumbled, and she’d grabbed me, trying to keep me up, and laughed, “Morgan, are you drunk? At my wedding?” I’d laughed, but the feeling had intensified rapidly, and I excused myself to splash water on my face.

I reach for the faucet and miss it completely.

What the fuck.

My basic motor skills seem completely shot, and I’ve never beenthatdrunk.

Something isn’t right.

Someone walks into the restroom, and I think they speak to me, but their voice sounds muffled, like it’s underwater. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion, and when a hand lands on my shoulder, I’ve already forgotten there’s even anyone else in here.

“Do you need me to get someone?” I turn toward the feminine voice, and everything spins.

I try to shake myself clear, and when it doesn’t work, I mumble, “Can you find Adrian?”

It comes out slurred and unintelligible.

Another voice says, “She’s here with the tall guy.”

Who is that?

Fuck, I’m so tired.

The first voice speaks again: “We’re going to find your date, honey. Are you okay here by yourself?”

The door opens, and I think I’m alone again, but I can’t be sure. My eyes refuse to open. I take a step toward the door, using my hands to guide and support me along the counter.

“Whoa, honey. Easy,” the first voice says, and I jump.

My stomach twists, and I feel like I might be sick. I take another step, needing to get out of here, desperate for fresh air. A gentle hand on my arm supports my next step, and the woman says, “I’ll help you. Come on.”

The door opens, and the sound of music momentarily blocks out the thrumming sound that’s filled my head for the last ten minutes.

I lean into the stranger and manage to say, “I need fresh air.”

“I think we should find your date first,” she replies, but I need air more than I need to search for Adrian.

I’m about to protest, beg her to get me outside, when another hand wraps around my waist, and from a million miles away, a low, gruff voice says, “I’ve got her. Thank you.”

The woman sounds relieved when she asks, “Oh, thank goodness. Did Kim find you?”

“Yeah, she did.”

A hand on my arm, strong and firm, urges me forward.

“Outside. Please,” I beg.

“Outside,” he confirms. “I’ve got you.”

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