The Reckless Collision

Sam.

~~~

The room was thick with the scent of pepperoni and mushrooms, and my stomach growled in protest. Thankfully, the chatter of the group drowned out the noise. Ray led the way to the U-shaped couch, and I took a seat next to him sitting on the left side next to him, feeling his presence beside me like a constant anchor. Logan and Rory claimed the middle, while Molly, Courtney, Chloe, and James sprawled out on the right side, directly in front of me.

"I've got the controller," Logan declared, lifting it high in the air like a trophy. "So I'm picking the movie."

"No!" the group groaned in unison.

The blue glow from the TV barely lit up the room. The chandeliers overhead were bright enough to almost make the screen irrelevant. The pizza had already been devoured, leaving behind half-empty cardboard boxes scattered across the glass table. But, lucky for me, there was still a piece of pepperoni left. I grabbed a plate and tossed a slice on it, following Ray's example as he stuffed his face with a gooey chunk of cheese pizza. Logan continued to protest, but neither of us paid him any mind.

The movie debate was in full swing. The guys were leaning toward "Baywatch," while the girls were more in the mood for "Before I Fall." Neither of those felt right to me.

"What about Happy Death Day?" I suggested, swallowing the last bite of pizza.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"It's better than watching some sad movie about a girl dying and dealing with emotional turmoil," I said, explaining my point without hesitation. I knew how they looked at me—pity mixed with fear—but honestly, it didn't matter. For me, horror was just less emotional than those gut-wrenching dramas. In real life, you don't get to know who the final girl is.

There was a moment of silence before Raymond gave a small nod of approval. That was enough for me. The movie credits began to roll, and Andrew dimmed the lights to add to the movie theater vibe. As the group dove into a "who's the killer?" discussion, I leaned back into the couch, taking a sip of my rum-and-cola.

Ray's hand rested lightly on my waist, not exactly comfortable with my spine's position against the couch, but still, it was a steady reminder that he was here, watching over me. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my focus on the movie, ignoring his gaze.

The slurping sound of my drink seemed to echo in the quiet room, but no one noticed. The leftover ice cubes clinked in my glass as I stood to grab another cocktail. The other girls were sipping champagne, while the guys, predictably, stuck to whiskey.

But then the familiar ache in my shoulder returned. I'd taken a Vicodin earlier before getting dressed, but it had been hours, and the pain was creeping back. The doctor had said to take the pills when needed, and I gladly followed those instructions. The more I pushed myself physically, the more pills I had to take to keep up.

"I'll be right back," I whispered to Ray, tapping his knee lightly. He furrowed his brow in confusion, but I just gave him a quick nod. "I need meds."

He let go of my waist, and I swiftly left the living room, the now usual pain settling deeper in my bones with each step. I climbed upstairs to my bedroom, but to my surprise, Molly followed me.

The coconut scent still lingered in the room, much more pleasant than the chaos downstairs. I flopped onto the bed, burying my face in the soft, fuzzy cream blanket.

"Are you okay?" Molly's voice broke the silence, and I could feel the bed shift as she sat next to me. I groaned, flipping over onto my back. The light from the ceiling was too bright, and I lifted my forearm to cover my eyes.