Persha wakes up to the sun rays on his face.
He turns, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light.
His head was pounding.
“Ughh,” he groans, attempting to sit up, hands on his head trying to soothe the pounding.
He looks around.
He was in his room, on his bed, and thankfully in his clothes.
“How’d I get here?” he asks out loud.
The door to the bathroom clicks open, Baylee stepping out freshly showered.
“Oh, you’re up,” he says, drying his hair with a towel.
“What happened?
How did I get here?” he says, voice still raspy from sleep.
“You don’t remember?” Baylee asks, wiping his face before walking to his side of the room to put on his glasses.
“Zabi told me…
well, she told Tiffany, and then Tiffany told me.
That’s besides the point.
They told me where to pick you up.
I had to drag you to my car, man.
You were pretty wasted,” he adds, turning to look at Persha.
“Drunk?
I didn’t drink.
I just had a cup of booze, and it wasn’t that strong…” he says, pausing.
He went quiet for a while.
“What?
What’s wrong?
Did you remember something?” Baylee asks, worried.
“I…
I drank from a cup Christopher gave me.
He…
he was nice, a…
I drank from a cup Christopher gave me, Baylee,” he says, repeating himself.
He swiftly checks his body to see if anything was done to him.
When he sees he was fine, he crawls his way out of bed, still in the outfit from last night.
“Zabi…
did she tell you anything else?” he asks Baylee, reaching for his phone on the bedside table.
“Zabi told Tiffany, and Tiffany told me, so yeah, I don’t know,” he says, pausing what he was doing.
“Hey, are you okay?
Did something happen?” he says, walking up to Persha.
“Fuck, I saw you in a room.
Your shoes were on the floor, but you were tucked in fast asleep.
I thought you just had a lot to drink,” he says, eyes frantically searching his best friend’s body.
“I’m going to speak to Zabi,” he says, walking towards the bathroom.
“It’s Saturday, Persha.
Everyone’s in their dorms or out,” Baylee calls out.
Baylee just stands there, blood boiling, hoping it isn’t what he thinks it is.
***
His engine dies down as he shuts his car off, stepping out of his car.
He was in front of the Art Building.
His guts brought him here.
Definitely, Zabi isn’t one to stay in her dorms all day, and he was right.
Although the building was almost void of students, except for some that came to pick up something and leave, or those that had tests and lectures, either way, it was quiet in the Art Building.
He finds her in a classroom.
She was sat in front of a laptop while Tiffany and other people he can’t care to name jest and laugh.
His hands hesitate on the knob, watching them from the glass part of the door.
“It’s okay, Persha.
Step in, ask to speak to her, and leave,” he says, trying to hype himself up.
He steps into the space, every head turning to face him.
He isn’t unfamiliar with people’s gaze.
He’s used to people staring at him.
The gaze he was avoiding was none other than Zabi’s gaze.
She looks up from her laptop.
It was hard to read her expression.
“Hello, um…
Zabi, can I speak to you for a moment?” he says, his voice sharp, from years of honing his confidence.
He hears a few whispers here and there.
“The pretty boy from Coms?”
“Wow, I have to admit he’s indeed good-looking.”
“Kinda shocked he knows Zabi.”
He hears their whispers, but he ignores them.
Zabi stands from her seat, walking towards him.
He stands there, not moving till she’s nudging her head towards the door, excusing them on her behalf.
Once out the door, they kept walking till they’re standing in front of another room.
Zabi takes out her key card and opens the door, locking it after they step in.
She leans on one of the desks, Persha still standing in front of the door.
It was silent for a few minutes.
He was finding the best way to ask about what had been eating at him since he woke up.
“Sorry for interrupting, but…
um, about yesterday,” he says, slowly lifting his head to look at her.
She was already staring at him, arms folded across her chest.
“My best friend already told me what happened…
at least what he knows…
but…
he said you told Tiffany, and Tiffany told him where to find me,” he says, the breath he was holding escaping his lips.
“I can’t remember what happened yesterday.
Do you…
know?” he asks her, nervousness eating at his tone.
If Persha didn’t remember, that means he doesn’t remember what happened after she took him from Marcel.
Half of the story.
“I probably owe you that much,” she says.
“You were drunk.”
More like drugged, she thought.
“Took you upstairs to a quiet space, left you there, and told Tiffany to tell who I guessed is your friend,” she adds, still staring at him.
“Oh, okay.
But I didn’t drink.
That’s the problem.”
Getting angry, he walks towards her till he’s standing right in front of her.
“I might not look it, but I can hold my liquor.
A cup won’t even make me tipsy,” he says, getting agitated.
‘Yeah, and Marcel knows that’s why he drugged you,’ she thought again.
“The last thing I remember is…
I drank from a cup Christopher gave me.
It was a hype drink, so I didn’t think much of it,” he says, moving his hands, trying to explain.
“After drinking, my stomach began to hurt…
like…
really bad.
I felt like I was dying.
From there, it’s blank,” he says.
They maintain eye contact for a while.
“Mmm, okay.”
That’s all she says.
The face Persha makes doesn’t make her happy at all, but she can’t show him or tell him that.
His face was twisted in confusion and sadness.
He opens his mouth like he wants to say something.
Instead, he shakes his head.
“Forget about it,” he says, turning to walk out the door.
Before he can turn completely, Zabi is gripping his arm.
She’s shocked by her actions.
As she collects herself, she lets him go.
“Your memories will come back.
When they do, come to me,” she says, lifting herself from the desk she’s leaning on, walking out of the room.
Persha doesn’t know what to feel.
One emotion is certain.
Confusion.
“When they do, come to me.”
He replays the words in his head.
“What the hell does that mean?
Did she lie to me?”
He leaves without a direct answer, but with certainty Zabi knows what happened to him.