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Maureen took another swig of Stoli and giggled. "Where'd we get this again?"

Roger shrugged. "Collins, maybe?"

She giggled again. "Collins hasn't been home in like forever."

Roger laughed, shrugging again. He dropped his cigarette in an empty cup currently serving as his ash tray and took another drink.

"Pookie, why you so quiet?"

Mark slumped over in his seat. Maureen giggled again as Roger staggered into the bathroom.

"Pookie! Wake up!"

Mark groaned, but didn't open his eyes. Maureen leaned over and kissed his neck. It drove him nuts when she did that. At least, it drove him nuts when he was conscious enough to feel it.

"You're no fun!" she said, pouting her lips.

Roger returned from the bathroom, slightly more dazed. She could tell he'd just shot up. Sober, she would've lashed into him and read him a riot act about how much he was fucking up his life. But somehow, drunk and with her boyfriend passed out beside her, it didn't seem so bad.

Roger lit up another cigarette and offered one to Maureen. She shook her head.

"What? You quittin' or somethin'?"

Maureen shook her head again and smiled. "Just got a better idea of what to put my mouth on."

Roger grinned, not following her, but loving to see Maureen drunk. She got so damn giggly and flirty when she was drunk. He took another drink.

"Wassat?"

"What?"

"What'd you wanna put your mouth on ?"

"You," she said with a wink as she crawled over to him, swaying from the alcohol.

Roger watched her lean in, still not fully processing what she was doing. But God, it felt good. The hit in the bathroom was fully kicking in, making each sensation feel a thousand times better than it should've. She kissed his neck, his ear, then finally moved to his mouth. He held the cigarette away so as not to burn her. This was Maureen. He'd forgotten how good she kissed, how good she felt. Why the fuck had he forgotten…Mark. Roger shoved her away.

"Uh-uh."

"What? I know you liked it," she slurred, eyes and hands drifting to his crotch.

"Yeah well, you're with Mark."

Maureen rolled her eyes and giggled. "Pookie's passed out. He won't know. He won't ever have to know."

"I'll know."

"That's the point," she giggled. Maureen moved towards him again, swaying more than before.

Roger put his hands up, holding her at bay. "Serious, Mo. I don't fuck my friend's girlfriend."

Maureen pouted, sitting back. Roger got up and went to his room, shutting the door behind him.


In the morning, Maureen woke up on the couch. Mark sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, holding his head. She sat up and then laid back down.

"Moved too quick," she muttered.

"Morning, baby," Mark said quietly.

"Mmm."

Maureen lay on the couch, eyes closed. Her head was killing her. Something else, though. She couldn't shake the feeling that something else happened.

"Pookie?"

"Huh?"

"Anything weird happen last night?"

"Don't think so. Course I don't remember much of it, so who the hell knows?"

Maureen heard a door opening slowly. One perk to getting drunk together—at least everyone was hung over and knew to be quiet. Maureen sat up, this time much slower than before, and opened her eyes. Roger's eyes were bloodshot and she could see fresh track marks on his arms.

Groaning, the night before came rushing back to her. Kissing Roger, touching Roger… Roger pushing her away. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Roger lit up another cigarette and sat on the couch beside her.

"You okay, Mo?"

She gave an embarrassed smile. "Um, yeah…look about last night…"

Roger laughed. "We were fucked up. I don't remember a fuckin' thing."

"You don't?"

"Fuck no. Think I drank more than I ever have before."

Maureen studied his face, searching for any sign that he did remember. His clueless expression as his gaze met hers assured her he had no idea what she'd done, what she'd tried to do.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"What'd you wanna say 'bout last night?"

"Oh, nothin'…I was gonna see if you remembered anything 'cause Pookie and me don't."

Roger shook his head. "Sorry, babe."

Maureen watched him get up and join Mark at the table. She sighed and swallowed the feelings of guilt and embarrassment. Mark had no idea what she'd done, what she'd tried to do. Roger had no memory of it. Neither of them knew, and Maureen decided in that instant that neither of them ever would.