This is a work of fantasy, and contains themes of non-consent and intoxication. Please read responsibly.
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It was--Ellie would later think--all actually Sam's fault to begin with.
Sam never looked where she was going because she expected the earth to turn around her and all mere humans to get out of her way. And usually, that's what she got. Sam was beautiful and athletic and smart and lived in a big house with a pool, and Ellie was both wildly jealous of everything Sam was, and also loved everything about her. Sometimes, Ellie found herself looking too long at Sam's gently wavy long dark hair and the tight curves of her hips, and she wondered if she wanted to be Sam's friend or if she wanted Sam to push her up against her bedroom wall and do things to her that--until that moment--Ellie had never had the courage to do with anyone, man or woman. Either way, Ellie also wanted Sam to get everything she wanted.
But in that particular moment, Sam's confidence betrayed her, and she turned on her heel in the middle of the crowded, dimly-lit kitchen and walked straight into a man Ellie had never seen before, who spilled his beer all over the floor, and all over Sam's bomber jacket. "FUCK," Sam said, dramatically. The man--maybe he was someone from Sam's psych class--ran off to get a kitchen towel, muttering apologies. Sam stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, ineffectively trying to rub the liquid off her jacket as it slowly soaked into one arm. Around them, the music from the living room throbbed, and voices laughed and hooted from out on the patio.
"Here," Ellie said, putting her lime green solo cup--a cheap margarita mixer she had been nursing all night--down on the counter. "It's OK Sammie. Let's get it off."
"This is Daniel's," Sam said, choking up slightly. "He's gonna be so mad."
"He's not going to be mad," Ellie comforted, unzipping the jacket and pulling it off Sam's shoulders. "Daniel is never mad about anything. It's OK."
Daniel's black and white bomber jacket slid off Sam's shoulders with no resistance, because Daniel--Sam's boyfriend--was a good head taller than her, and broad enough in the shoulders to pick up Sam and Ellie under each arm if he had ever wanted to. He was everything everyone expected Sam's boyfriend to be--easy going and athletic and successful at whatever he did, and nice enough that nobody could be mad at him about it. He always treated Ellie as if she were Sam's sweet little kid sister, even though they were all the same age--playfully clapping her on the back and calling her whatever pet name Sam used that week. Ellie couldn't imagine him angry, especially at Sam, who he handled with a blend of gentlemanly respect and constant, simmering lust--the two of them ducking away to his dorm room, the library bathrooms, or the broom closets in the chemistry building every 20 minute break they could find.
"It's gonna stain," Sam complained. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing with stuff like this."
"I've got you, I'm a cleaning expert," Ellie said cheerily. It was a little disheartening that this was mostly true. Cleaning was the kind of thing Ellie was good at. Nice Ellie, with her short hair and glasses and her cleaning, and taking notes, and first aid. Sam was the one who was good at volleyball and talking to strangers and snagging hot boyfriends.
"Really? I don't want to get in the way of your fun."
"Psh, I don't do fun much anyway," Ellie joked, slightly too truthfully. "I've got this."
She gave Sam a quick hug, and headed out of the kitchen into the hall, which was full of people she didn't know waiting for the bathroom. She dodged into the laundry room instead, where she knew that Sam's mom--who was probably off on a boat somewhere--kept the cleaning supplies. The beer stain proved surprisingly superficial, and a spritz of diluted Dawn, a bit of water, and a scrub with a kitchen towel later, the jacket was slightly damp, but probably cleaner than when Daniel had given it to Sam.
Ellie threw on the jacket, and held it around herself. It smelled a little of Daniel's earthy sweat, and a lot like Sam's perfume, and Ellie enjoyed standing alone for a minute in the empty laundry room, listening to the muffled party thud on in the background. Then she walked out the door and back down the hall--feeling with an illicit thrill as if she were Sam. This was her big, fancy house, her booze, her music, her pool, and her jacket that she was borrowing from her hunky boyfriend. Sam was gone, and the kitchen was empty and dark except for a string of twinkling LED lights, the floor mostly clean. Ellie sniffed the jacket again, and triumphantly picked up her solo cup. "Fuck it, I'm Sam, I can be fun," she thought, and downed her drink.
She almost spat it back up, but didn't quite, and swallowed in surprise. Instead of fake lime and sugar, her mouth was full of a nasty, watery liquid that tasted something like baking soda and salt. With a sense of dread, she looked back at the counter. There, where she had left it, was her green solo cup. She looked at the one in her hand. It was--barely perceptible in this light--light blue. Scrawled on the cup in thick sharpie were the words "Marcus" and "DO NOT DRINK!"
Oh shit--Ellie thought. And then--I have to find Sam.
Sam was standing in the sliding glass doorway to the patio, yelling at someone outside. "Oh hey, El, did you get it out, thank you so much, you're so amazing, I--"
Ellie's story tumbled out. Sam's eyes opened wide, and then she looked furious, her beautifully shaped brows furrowing. She dragged Ellie to a sofa in the sitting room, and said "Lie down and don't move," before storming off out the door. Ellie's mouth still tasted foul and her heart was beating fast as she tried to imagine what she had just consumed, but being bossed around by Sam was somehow comforting. Through the window she could see someone wearing only a bikini bottom running recklessly around the edge of the pool before diving in, and in the living room nearby the music shifted to 90s dance hits. Was she imagining it, or did she feel lightheaded? Were her toes tingling? Was she just having a panic attack?
By the time Sam came back, Ellie was sure it was not just in her head. Her arms and legs felt like lead, and her head was spinning. Sam's face looked dark, but relieved. "Hey El, I talked to Marcus and you're gonna be fine. You just have to get some rest, OK?"
"What is it?" Ellie asked, faintly.
