((Peter Siu continued from Ice Trail))
Peter was not an alcoholic. Sure, he swung by the Varsity once (or twice, or maybe thrice) a week, and he didn't mind the taste, and he liked the buzz of alcohol, but he wasn't an alcoholic.
That's what they all say. 2 months later, they're in AA.
Getting into the Varsity was easy. Peter was glad that his brother had let him borrow his driver's license. Probably the only time Peter didn't mind that he looked like his brother. That and the fact that the bouncers couldn't tell two Asians apart anyway. Of course, this inability to recognize asian features also meant that Peter got ID'd every time he went to the Varsity. Or maybe they just had a really bad memory.
Friday nights at the Varsity were fairly low-key, unless there was a big game happening. There were nicer bars and clubs around the area for Friday night celebrations. Peter wasn't a huge fan of the bustle of crowded venues; he just liked to have his drinks, and more people meant it would take longer to get his next round.
I thought you said you weren't an alcoholic.
Peter took a seat by the bar and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, his preferred starter drink. Peter never understood why people would go to a bar and get beer. That stuff was cheap off the shelf, and didn't even taste as good as mixed drinks. Which reminds me, I need to pick up some stuff for Justin's party.
A party where you're gonna get shitfaced and probably end up sleeping with somebody. I recommend tequila.
Justin's party. Peter didn't even know why he got invited to the party this time, considering he had broken up with Justin. Actually, he had no clue why he got invited the first time either. Not that it mattered the first time since they had hooked up at the party, with the help of copious amounts of alcohol. Wait. Is that why I got invited? I'm not popular or anything. We're in the choir, we both drink and party a lot, and we dated for a bit, but those aren't exactly good reasons for getting invited. Or maybe I'm just overthinking this.
You overthink everything. It's not bad sometimes, but annoying a lot of the time.
Peter wasn't that keen on the prospect of getting back together with Justin. The guy was lots of fun to be around, and he sure knew how to show a guy a good time. On the other hand, he was also quite immature, at least when it came to real relationship sort of details. At least, that was what Peter had said when he broke up with him. Partly because it was true, and partly because Peter wasn't going to admit that he had been (emotionally) cheating on his boyfriend.
You're assuming that Justin would've cared about something trivial like that.
In the end, nothing really had happened. He had promised Brian that they would wait until after high school was over, and that he would try his best to get accepted to a university in Vancouver. Of course, Peter's best included purposely fudging his application essays for MIT and the other big name colleges in the US. It would've been hard to convince his parents to send him back to Vancouver if he had gotten accepted to an Ivy school.
Peter finished his drink and ordered another. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded sheet of paper. It was the list of discussion topics and questions for Sunday's youth group activity. Peter was supposed to prepare a few things to talk about and questions to ask the group to move along the discussion. He read over the questions a few times, but nothing insightful was coming to mind. Peter absently rubbed the back of his head, where a small lump was quickly forming. That stupid fall earlier today was going to be a royal pain in the head.
Haha, that was a terrible joke.
Apparently, one of the symptoms of concussions were, as wikipedia put it, "displays of emotion that are inappropriate to the situation." Which would explain why he had kissed Sora. That was a stupid move; Sora didn't like him, and Peter wasn't really looking for a relationship anyway.
No relationships. Just some intimate physical contact will do..
Peter was definitely overthinking. Best thing to do right now was to relax, which the alcohol was somewhat helping with. Peter ordered a third drink, this time a whisky sour. The night was still young and there was time to sober up later. Grabbing his new drink, he ambled over to one of the several empty pool tables and popped a pair of quarters into it. He arranged the balls on the table, then grabbed a cue stick from a nearby wall and began chalking it up. The bar was pretty empty, so at least he could get some practice alone. It was far better than playing badly in front of a crowd of people.
Reflections of an Alcoholic
David would probably have frequented bars with a bit more regularity except for two facts: He didn't like the taste or smell of beer, and he didn't care to get caught with a fake ID if he could help it seeing as his father would have killed him and then it would have gotten ugly.
However, this particular bar had a few improvements on the norm: It had pool tables, it had TVs, and so on. In short, there was more to this bar than just getting drunk and therefore David was having a good time at the Varsity. The fact that the Virgin Bloody Mary in his glass was made just spicy enough for him to need a glass of water with it wasn't hurting the situation, either.
"Hey, Peter." David recognized the Asian kid from school; they'd been in some classes before (though David would be damned if he could remember which one), so unlike the bouncers he could tell this Asian kid from the others. "What're you up to?"
However, this particular bar had a few improvements on the norm: It had pool tables, it had TVs, and so on. In short, there was more to this bar than just getting drunk and therefore David was having a good time at the Varsity. The fact that the Virgin Bloody Mary in his glass was made just spicy enough for him to need a glass of water with it wasn't hurting the situation, either.
"Hey, Peter." David recognized the Asian kid from school; they'd been in some classes before (though David would be damned if he could remember which one), so unlike the bouncers he could tell this Asian kid from the others. "What're you up to?"
Peter hadn't noticed that someone he knew had entered. He must've been too preoccupied with the playing pool. He scowled at the table; most of the balls were not yet pocketed, and they were spread out in less than optimal positions. Peter really needed more practice at this game.
So you don't get clobbered by Tiffany on Sunday?
He turned around from the table to look at the new person. David Anderson. He was a good student, and probably had better marks than Peter. They had shared a few classes last year, and Peter had noted that David tended to take the schoolwork seriously, in contrast to his own carefree attitude about school. David was also quite the good kid, as Peter had never seen him at any of the parties he'd been to, nor was he acquainted with the bad crowd around the school.
The way you manage to keep tabs on your entire class, plus half of the juniors brings up some questions.
Which made Peter wonder why an upstanding fellow such as David was doing in the Varsity. Not that the Varsity was a sketchy place, but the kids that came here were usually looking to get drunk or joining the crowds watching the evening's hockey match, occasionally going for two birds with one stone and doing both at once. David didn't seem the kind of guy to do that though. Maybe he was waiting for a friend.
"I'm just shooting some pool," Peter replied. He spied the glass in David's hand. "Also enjoying some drinks, which I can see you're doing as well." The drink looked dark; possibly it was just a glass of Coke. David didn't strike Peter as someone that would be drinking, but many people were just social drinkers. Peter threw a look around the bar. It was mostly empty: two older patrons were playing foosball, and a trio of juniors from Bayview chatting in a booth. Not exactly the atmosphere for "social drinking". Maybe David was a closet drinker.
And you're not attracted to men. Stop hoping for stupid results.
"You up for some rounds of pool? It gets boring after a while if I keep missing the pockets," Peter chuckled. David was probably going to beat him into the ground at this. For all of Peter's expertise at math, his terrible aim made playing pool an exercise in futility.
You're still going to get beaten by a girl on Sunday. Nothing's gonna change that.
So you don't get clobbered by Tiffany on Sunday?
He turned around from the table to look at the new person. David Anderson. He was a good student, and probably had better marks than Peter. They had shared a few classes last year, and Peter had noted that David tended to take the schoolwork seriously, in contrast to his own carefree attitude about school. David was also quite the good kid, as Peter had never seen him at any of the parties he'd been to, nor was he acquainted with the bad crowd around the school.
The way you manage to keep tabs on your entire class, plus half of the juniors brings up some questions.
Which made Peter wonder why an upstanding fellow such as David was doing in the Varsity. Not that the Varsity was a sketchy place, but the kids that came here were usually looking to get drunk or joining the crowds watching the evening's hockey match, occasionally going for two birds with one stone and doing both at once. David didn't seem the kind of guy to do that though. Maybe he was waiting for a friend.
"I'm just shooting some pool," Peter replied. He spied the glass in David's hand. "Also enjoying some drinks, which I can see you're doing as well." The drink looked dark; possibly it was just a glass of Coke. David didn't strike Peter as someone that would be drinking, but many people were just social drinkers. Peter threw a look around the bar. It was mostly empty: two older patrons were playing foosball, and a trio of juniors from Bayview chatting in a booth. Not exactly the atmosphere for "social drinking". Maybe David was a closet drinker.
And you're not attracted to men. Stop hoping for stupid results.
"You up for some rounds of pool? It gets boring after a while if I keep missing the pockets," Peter chuckled. David was probably going to beat him into the ground at this. For all of Peter's expertise at math, his terrible aim made playing pool an exercise in futility.
You're still going to get beaten by a girl on Sunday. Nothing's gonna change that.
"Also enjoying some drinks, which I can see you're doing as well."
"It's nothing much." Pause. "Can't get anything strong or my parents will kill me if they find out, but...it tastes good." David looked down at the virgin drink, shrugging. He wasn't going to get even tipsy off of it, but it was better than yet another soda.
The funny thing is that David wasn't a closet drinker, and he might not have even been the biggest hockey fan. However, he'd usually run into some people he knew here, and it wasn't like he had a whole lot better to do on a Friday night.
"You up for some rounds of pool? It gets boring after a while if I keep missing the pockets."
David smirked at that comment. "Why not?" Pause. "Not like I'm doing much of anything right now, though I'll warn you: I'll probably miss more pockets than this table has." He took a sip of his drink and then set down the half-full glass at an empty table next to the pool table, and stepped over to grab a cue.
Returning to the table, David leaned over it and started rounding up the balls, herding them to its center so they could be set for a game. This should be fun, he thought to himself. I wonder who's worse.
"It's nothing much." Pause. "Can't get anything strong or my parents will kill me if they find out, but...it tastes good." David looked down at the virgin drink, shrugging. He wasn't going to get even tipsy off of it, but it was better than yet another soda.
The funny thing is that David wasn't a closet drinker, and he might not have even been the biggest hockey fan. However, he'd usually run into some people he knew here, and it wasn't like he had a whole lot better to do on a Friday night.
"You up for some rounds of pool? It gets boring after a while if I keep missing the pockets."
David smirked at that comment. "Why not?" Pause. "Not like I'm doing much of anything right now, though I'll warn you: I'll probably miss more pockets than this table has." He took a sip of his drink and then set down the half-full glass at an empty table next to the pool table, and stepped over to grab a cue.
Returning to the table, David leaned over it and started rounding up the balls, herding them to its center so they could be set for a game. This should be fun, he thought to himself. I wonder who's worse.
Peter rolled his eyes when David mentioned his parents. Parental authority was something Peter could never really agree with. Maybe it was because he had gotten sick of all the things his parents had tried (and often succeeded) to rope him into over the years. Not that all those things were bad; Peter did enjoy the camping and hiking trips he went on in his scouting days, and he had made some good friends in his times at church. But there had also been many times where his parents had imposed their beliefs and desires onto him.
It wasn't that Peter didn't believe in God, or that he didn't want to volunteer at different events, but going to church four times a week or being named as a volunteer' by his parents really cut out Peter's own opinions and choices. There had been the times where his parents' decisions had made Peter unable to attend social gatherings or hindered school projects. If his parents had ever asked Peter, there'd be less resentment between them.
It'd also help if you weren't always trying to hide your preferences from them.
Wait. Did David comment that he didn't have a strong drink? That meant . "Are you stamped?" Peter asked with a hint of annoyance. He should have expected it, but most seniors at Bayview that frequented the Varsity had their ways of avoiding the dreaded stamp. But this was David Anderson he was talking to. That meant there wasn't anyone to share a pitcher or have a drinking contest with.
Says Mr. "I'm not an alcoholic".
Peter went to the bar to get another drink. These things could really cut into the wallet if he let it. By the time he got back, David had finished setting up the balls in the triangle.
Peter was not good at pool in any way, shape, or form, but he didn't like losing at it either. He wanted to know what kind of opposition he was up against. The balls were already set up, so practice shots were out of the question. The next best thing "Do you want to break?" Peter asked, feigning innocence. Peter ran through the possible responses in his head; each response would be used to gauge David's skill at the game.
At least you're not a scrub.
It wasn't that Peter didn't believe in God, or that he didn't want to volunteer at different events, but going to church four times a week or being named as a volunteer' by his parents really cut out Peter's own opinions and choices. There had been the times where his parents' decisions had made Peter unable to attend social gatherings or hindered school projects. If his parents had ever asked Peter, there'd be less resentment between them.
It'd also help if you weren't always trying to hide your preferences from them.
Wait. Did David comment that he didn't have a strong drink? That meant . "Are you stamped?" Peter asked with a hint of annoyance. He should have expected it, but most seniors at Bayview that frequented the Varsity had their ways of avoiding the dreaded stamp. But this was David Anderson he was talking to. That meant there wasn't anyone to share a pitcher or have a drinking contest with.
Says Mr. "I'm not an alcoholic".
Peter went to the bar to get another drink. These things could really cut into the wallet if he let it. By the time he got back, David had finished setting up the balls in the triangle.
Peter was not good at pool in any way, shape, or form, but he didn't like losing at it either. He wanted to know what kind of opposition he was up against. The balls were already set up, so practice shots were out of the question. The next best thing "Do you want to break?" Peter asked, feigning innocence. Peter ran through the possible responses in his head; each response would be used to gauge David's skill at the game.
At least you're not a scrub.
"Are you stamped?"
A deep sigh emerged from David. "Yeah." Pause. "No fake ID, and I don't want to try slipping the bouncers a twenty." A smirk emerged on David's face at the latter comment. "It'd get a little expensive after a few times."
Say what you would about David, while he had walking around money, he didn't have gobs of it, and even a generous allowance wouldn't cover constant bribery...if he could get away with it, something he didn't care to try doing. While a part of him thought his father would laugh if he found out (considering that dad's job involved doing the same things in creative ways), he also didn't care to tempt fate.
"I know, I'm a dork for not getting around it..."
"Do you want to break?"
David shrugs, indicating a lack of an opinion. "Go for it if you want to, Peter." Pause. "Besides, beer makes me sick. I think it runs in the family."
His father had let him try one when he was little, by accident. David got halfway into the first sip before he found out he didn't like the taste.
A deep sigh emerged from David. "Yeah." Pause. "No fake ID, and I don't want to try slipping the bouncers a twenty." A smirk emerged on David's face at the latter comment. "It'd get a little expensive after a few times."
Say what you would about David, while he had walking around money, he didn't have gobs of it, and even a generous allowance wouldn't cover constant bribery...if he could get away with it, something he didn't care to try doing. While a part of him thought his father would laugh if he found out (considering that dad's job involved doing the same things in creative ways), he also didn't care to tempt fate.
"I know, I'm a dork for not getting around it..."
"Do you want to break?"
David shrugs, indicating a lack of an opinion. "Go for it if you want to, Peter." Pause. "Besides, beer makes me sick. I think it runs in the family."
His father had let him try one when he was little, by accident. David got halfway into the first sip before he found out he didn't like the taste.
Peter hadn't expected such an indifferent response, considering that David had expressed earlier his ineptitude at the game. David was probably just a casual player, which meant he had some experience with the game and could probably play at a passable level. He lacked confidence though, Peter noted, as he had basically asked Peter to do the opening break.
"Alright, guess I'll do the honors," Peter said. He picked up the cue ball and circled around to the other side of the table. The ball went on the table, a hand's breadth away from the middle. Peter chalked up his cue, then leaned over to take his shot. Peter used a strange way of aiming the cue: it rested in the groove between the knuckles of his index and middle finger.
David said something funny about the taste of beer. "Beer's an acquired taste, to be honest," Peter said offhandedly, "it's not something that's supposed to taste good. I hear coffee's the same way." Peter was not a big fan of coffee at all. He hated the taste of it, and would avoid anything that remotely tasted like coffee. That included coffee liquor. "If you aren't a fan of the taste of alcohol, you should try some mixed drinks."
A quick jerk of his arm sent the cue ball shooting at the mass of balls at the other end of the table. There was the resounding crack of the impact of the balls. The cluster of balls scattered like a crowd of people after a terrible performance. Peter watched as a solid blue ball, the two ball, rolled into one of the corner pockets; he then winced as the cue ball followed suit.
Epic fail
Peter groaned. He hated it when his opening shot just ended up in a scratch. Still, it was a decent break: none of the balls were touching another ball, and he had managed to sink a ball. Unfortunately, it seemed that solids were in a pretty bad position compared to stripes. Peter masked his annoyance and announced to David, "Your shot. Ball in hand."
Peter wasn't even sure why he had bothered inviting David for a round of pool. Maybe he was just trying to be sociable. Or maybe it was just his buzz doing its normal thing. Peter took another gulp of his drink. It was kind of sad how much he relied on alcohol for social interaction.
One more step and you're on your way toward AA
The two played for a while, making small talk as they played. David wasn't nearly as good as Peter had expected, although he didn't go down without a fight. They finished their best of three with Peter messing up his last shot on the eight ball, costing him the game. It was getting late, and Peter decided to cool down and sober up before heading home. Drinking and driving was pretty stupid after all.
Dad'll still know you were drinking. You reek of alcohol.
((Peter Siu continued in High Gloss Highs))
"Alright, guess I'll do the honors," Peter said. He picked up the cue ball and circled around to the other side of the table. The ball went on the table, a hand's breadth away from the middle. Peter chalked up his cue, then leaned over to take his shot. Peter used a strange way of aiming the cue: it rested in the groove between the knuckles of his index and middle finger.
David said something funny about the taste of beer. "Beer's an acquired taste, to be honest," Peter said offhandedly, "it's not something that's supposed to taste good. I hear coffee's the same way." Peter was not a big fan of coffee at all. He hated the taste of it, and would avoid anything that remotely tasted like coffee. That included coffee liquor. "If you aren't a fan of the taste of alcohol, you should try some mixed drinks."
A quick jerk of his arm sent the cue ball shooting at the mass of balls at the other end of the table. There was the resounding crack of the impact of the balls. The cluster of balls scattered like a crowd of people after a terrible performance. Peter watched as a solid blue ball, the two ball, rolled into one of the corner pockets; he then winced as the cue ball followed suit.
Epic fail
Peter groaned. He hated it when his opening shot just ended up in a scratch. Still, it was a decent break: none of the balls were touching another ball, and he had managed to sink a ball. Unfortunately, it seemed that solids were in a pretty bad position compared to stripes. Peter masked his annoyance and announced to David, "Your shot. Ball in hand."
Peter wasn't even sure why he had bothered inviting David for a round of pool. Maybe he was just trying to be sociable. Or maybe it was just his buzz doing its normal thing. Peter took another gulp of his drink. It was kind of sad how much he relied on alcohol for social interaction.
One more step and you're on your way toward AA
The two played for a while, making small talk as they played. David wasn't nearly as good as Peter had expected, although he didn't go down without a fight. They finished their best of three with Peter messing up his last shot on the eight ball, costing him the game. It was getting late, and Peter decided to cool down and sober up before heading home. Drinking and driving was pretty stupid after all.
Dad'll still know you were drinking. You reek of alcohol.
((Peter Siu continued in High Gloss Highs))