Page 42 of Orion Ruined

“Just one glass.” I jump off the bed and head down to the kitchen again. This time, I move some of the broken pieces from the floor so I can walk freely. I collect two flutes from the glassware cabinet and take the champagne from the fridge. I have to laugh. This is so fucking normal. Yet my heart contracts in fear. And I don’t get fearful, ever.

As I carry the flutes upside down, I don’t see the kitchen counter and I somehow shatter both glasses against the side.

“Fuck!” Why am I nervous? I take another two flutes and hurry back up. The kitchen’s a mess and I’m not touching it. I’ll get Leila to sort it out. She always does anyway.

Maisy smirks when I return to her. “What else did you break?”

I roll my eyes at her. I’m annoyed at myself, having let my thoughts derail me. “Just ignore it. Here, hold these.” I pass her the flutes as I open the bottle. It makes a loud ‘pop’ sound and she claps her hands.

I present her the bottle. “Dom Perignon, Miss Roy. Would you like to taste it, or shall I just pour?”

She grins. “Just pour, please.”

I fill both flutes to the top, hand one over, and clink them together. “Bottoms up!”

As I drink mine I watch her taking a small sip, her eyes full of joy. I could watch her drink champagne forever.

“Oh, this is very good. The one I had last time was bitter.”

“This is the best, Maisy.”

“Anything that counts as ‘best’ is actually quite subjective.”

“I assure you, Dom Perignon is the best.”

She giggles. “Would you say you’re tasting the stars right now?”

She’s extra attractive when she’s being sassy. Dom Perignon was the monk who invented champagne, and upon having his first sip he is said to have exclaimed, ‘Quickly, come here! I’m tasting the stars!’ The whole world knows that.

“Don’t you start with your smart mouth, Maisy.” I press my lips to hers and she offers me an easy, tender kiss. Those are rare for me. There’s little need for softness in a rough world.

“My smart mouth? What do you mean?” She drinks up, smiling with her eyes.

I cup her chin and lift her head. “Why are you afraid to tell the world that you’re smart?”

“You must know why. Now you’re making yourself dumb for me.”

I want her to be free. We all want to help her live her life, for we can never have what she could have. “Yes, I do know. Just, don’t hold back with us. We’ll never use it against you.”

I clink her glass again and we both take a few more gulps.

“I don’t even know how that feels,” she mutters.

I refill our glasses, finishing the bottle. The flutes I have are the only ones in the kitchen, and they’re usually for my enemies. Especially large, basically, to get whoever’s drinking, drunk, and fast.

“There’s always a first time for anything,” I say, and raise my glass. “To being the smartest person in the room.”

She drinks to that, looking lost in thought.

“I think we need another bottle.” I don’t wait for her to respond, I just get up and go downstairs to the kitchen again, forgetting there’s glass all over the floor. I step on a few small shards, but luckily I’m not cut. I pick up the second bottle and take it back to Maisy’s room.

I open it without much drama and fill her glass again. Mine too. I decide to try to get her out of her head. “You said last time you had a drink, the champagne was bitter. Where was that?”

“Um, it was at this house where I was giving math lessons to a ten-year-old boy called Terry. His big brother was there, and at first, I thought he liked me because he sat with us and kept talking to me.”

“How old was the big brother?” I regret the question as soon as I ask it. I don’t want to know about other people flirting with her.

“Twenty-nine. Halfway through the lesson, he sent Terry out, opened a bottle of champagne, and we drank and talked for the rest of the afternoon.”

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