Sam felt the wet of the grass on his back.
He had slumped backwards trying to find some solid ground to wave off the dizziness that clouded him.
He had too much.
Whiskey and vodka shouldn’t be mixed…and the last of what was left in his stomach was now in the garden bed, teen feet from his head.
He slowly leant his head back and felt the wet grass tickle his ear and neck.
The collar of his jacket was going to be wet, but he found the coolness oddly soothing. Especially on how sickly warm his mouth and head felt.

He looked up…the stars were now circling above, the last remnants of drunkenness easing itself into the air with each exhale of breath.

He knew he fucked up, but for some reason, it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Even he couldn’t stay as angry at himself as he wanted to be…it was what it was.
The rest of the party behind him thumped away as the hip hop music rhythmically joined his breath in the air. It wouldn’t be long before a couple discovered him, laughing at his star-spangled body as they tried to find a place to hook up without being noticed.

He closed eyes. Trying his best to let the cold air cool the warm numbness he could get rid of. There wasn’t a reason to get this drunk…or maybe there was. But he couldn’t tell…maybe it was seeing all the couples at the party. Maybe it was because of the stress that he felt at the back of his head, needed an alcoholic cure. He couldn’t put a finger on it…and in all truth, he probably didn’t want to.

He looked over to the plastic water bottle he had let roll to his slide, wondering if there was anything left to soak his throat. He had used it to rinse, but he didn’t remember finishing it.
IN a daze he slumped over and reached for it. His fingertips grasped the bottle and pulled it in. He smiled and whistled softly as he felt the heavy water inside roll around.
Twisting it open he let the water slip down his mouth. He could feel the coolness down his throat and into his stomach.

It didn’t make him feel better.
The swirl in his stomach squelched as he felt himself become queasy again.
He welcomed it though.
The dizziness had now become his home, and with each unfocused blink at the stars, he started to feel less stressed.
This was odd…even he knew this, but he was glad.
What did he have to worry about? No guy was going to try to take advantage of his body…they’d probably laugh at the now comical situation he was in.

He had a warm bed waiting for him at home, and it wasn’t like he was completely debilitated. The girls would swoop through, sober enough to slump him into their car as they drove him home. He’d be sober enough to fit his key into the door and trudge upstairs and into his bed.

He’d be fine.
Sam knew he didn’t have to worry anymore…the stars were too pretty for anxious eyes.