Author's Note: I still can't believe it's been 201 one-shots already...

Day Two-Hundred One: Poison by Gin Wigmore

I was going out tonight to try and forget about everything that had been happening lately. I found myself in the exact same place I had been about a year ago: trying to get drunk due to the circumstances A had put us all through. Unfortunately, this time, it didn't seem to be producing the same results I had hoped for. I was a bit tipsy, but not completely drunk; just inebriated enough for my mind to start drifting off to places it wasn't supposed to.

Toby broke up with me not to long ago because he claimed he'd cheated on me. Being the upstanding person he was, he couldn't live with it any longer and told me, promptly breaking up with me after. How thoughtful of him.

I didn't really believe he had cheated at all. He just wasn't the type to do something like that. At least, I kept telling myself that.

Regardless of that, I had heard he had a new girlfriend. He met her from out of town. A sinister part of me hoped that he was dating her as a rebound; the only purpose she served was to help him move on from me.

Just as I contemplated taking another shot of tequila (it would have been my fourth or fifth; I hadn't really been taking count), I noticed someone sit down two seats over from me. When I took a small glance over, I realized it had been the subject of my thoughts: Toby.

Immediately, I got up and attempted to run out before he could notice, but just as I passed him, I stumbled. Damn heels.

He immediately made an effort to keep me from falling. As he helped me stand up again, he finally realized it was me. "Spencer?"

I didn't answer right away. There was silence between the two of us before I answered. "Hi." I couldn't even say his name or really even look him in the eyes. I wasn't drunk enough to forget all the pain our breakup caused me.

"Are you alright?"

No. But how was I going to say that? I couldn't. I just didn't answer. In response to that, he pulled me over to a stool so I could sit down again.

"Talk to me, Spencer."

I was really hoping he had thought I was too tipsy to answer him.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I answered with a dismissive shrug. "How have you been?"

"Fine." Lie. "But that's not what's important right now."

"Yeah, but that's all I really have to talk about. You broke up with me. Senior year is almost over. What else is there to say?" I seemed to have struck a nerve. Still, he didn't address it and we resumed our conversation.

About an hour later, the tequila wore off entirely. Still, I kept up the ruse that I was still a bit drunk. It seemed to make my conscience a bit less heavy after what I did next.

Although I really hadn't had any more drinks after I started my conversation with Toby, he had. He had quite a few, in fact, and was rather tipsy.

He brought me back to the loft—the one which I knew so well, forwards and backwards. As soon as the door closed behind me, I found him pinning me against the wall and kissing me. I'm not going to lie; I liked it. I didn't even feel bad. I don't even know if I feel bad about it. I knew he had a girlfriend at the time and I was perfectly sober. I also knew he didn't love her—not by the way he was kissing me and by the fact that he was with me and not her. He hadn't even been with her long enough to really know whether or not he loved her. Furthermore…I'd rather be the bitch he cheated with than the girl he cheated on.

Obviously, there was something about me he preferred over her; people don't stray when they get what they want and what they need. I gave him what he wanted and what he needed. It seemed like a complete 180 of anything I would've said the year before—how women aren't for men to use for what they wanted—but it was how I felt about the situation.

I wondered if he realized—or would realize—the hell this was putting me through with this. He was like some sweet poison I wanted a taste of, even though I knew it was no good for me.

I just felt so…hollow and see-through around him, though. I was just his little secret—a little gossamer thing that almost only existed in memory or imagination. I never felt like anything else. Of course, I had when we were actually together, but that was how I felt in the moment.

Perhaps I wasn't a feminist; feminists weren't supposed to tear down—or aspire to tear down—other women. I liked the liaison between the two of us. I loved the attention he was giving me, even though he was keeping the two of us in the dark and I knew it.

I could tell he was more into me than he had ever been with her. His touch felt yearning, like he was searching for something he'd been missing for a while now. He would lie to her to lie with me. Although it killed me, I was willing to do it.

Stupid.

After it was all over, he had fallen asleep. I hadn't, however. I wriggled out of his grasp and sat up. I couldn't even look back at him; it hurt too much. I left him.

AL3110: Yeah no I can't run. Aww yeah I made it for my grandma for her birthday. It was last Thursday. And I'm listening to HTBAH. Kids at my school were judging me hardcore for liking this song. You just got so deep. That's so interesting. IDK. I haven't really been to Europe (briefly, if you count the UK, which most Brits and Europeans don't).

MilaMizz:It's cool and take your sweet time :) Thank you :)

Tomorrow will be Lonely Hearts Club and a glimpse of my multi-chap of the same name (not published, but I was thinking of starting it after I sort out SSS/Enchanted/HTBAH and obviously after I finish this). Alliecat didn't like it. Boo.

I'm sorry, guys. I wish I had more to share but I...don't :( -Kayson