Scorched

The sky was overcast and cruddy, and as we drew closer to Maryland, it started to drizzle. Ta

He climbed out, hesitating as our eyes met, and then he closed the door. I pressed my lips together and told myself not to look when he walked out from behind the car with his duffel bag, but I did.

I looked up, peering out the window. He stopped by my side, tapped the window, and then moved on to Kyler’s window. “I’ll text you later,” he told him, and then he was off.

Ta

I stepped inside, suddenly weary to my very bones. Dropping my suitcase just inside the door, I faced my very closest friend. Neither of us said anything, and I almost said the things I’d never said to her before.

“I’m sorry,” was all that came out of my mouth.

Sydney’s smile was somewhat sad as she said, “I know.”

The next few days flat-out sucked.

I spent them in my apartment, ignoring the calls from my mom and dad. I knew nothing had happened, because if so, Brody would’ve showed up. I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with them. They’d mean well, of course, but I never felt like I…like they were proud of me when I got off the phone with them. Their disappointment always lingered like a festering wound.

I’d slept most of Sunday and Monday away, holed up in my bed. At some point during that time, I decided I needed a dog or a cat. Weird and random, but I thought then maybe my place wouldn’t seem so cold and empty.

By Tuesday afternoon, I’d ventured out of my bedroom and ended up spending the majority of the day roaming around my apartment aimlessly. So much was floating around in my head, and I wanted to talk to Syd, but I didn’t want to bother her. Although she hadn’t said she was upset, I knew she had to be. I didn’t blame her. I was pissed at myself.

I needed a change.

Standing in my living room, I took a drink of the beer I had left in my fridge while I turned in a slow circle. I ran my fingers through my hair. I didn’t like where the TV was, and that was an easy fix. Over the next hour, I moved the television to the other side of the room, dragged the couch across the floor, and rearranged the leaning bookshelves. My arms ached as I studied the walls. Maybe I needed to paint. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’d gone through at least three different colors since I’d moved in, and now I was regretting going back to the sandy beige color.

Maybe that’s what I’d do tomorrow.

I still had a couple of weeks before classes started, and I wasn’t volunteering that week, so obviously I had time. Plenty of time.

You need help.

Sleep last night was elusive, even with the help of the sleep aid and the three beers I’d drunk. I hadn’t meant to drink that much, and I wondered if it was somehow counter-effective to the sleeping pill. I shouldn’t have taken it, but I kind of forgot that I’d been drinking when I’d popped it in my mouth. Or maybe I just didn’t care.

I lay in bed, unable to shut my head down. I kept picking up my phone, but who would I call? Syd would be asleep, and I couldn’t call Ta

He’d told me there might be something real between us, but he…gosh, he deserved better than this.

So I played a game. Then I checked Facebook. Then played another game. Finally, around four in the morning, I drifted off to sleep, not really even looking forward to tomorrow, because I figured it would be like today. Today sucked, much like yesterday and the day before.

I slept most of Wednesday away, but it wasn’t a useful type of sleep. I never seemed to hit a deep enough level and when I did, I dreamt of being in a house, and I couldn’t find my way out. In the dream, I wasn’t alone, but I could never find the person who was there with me. They seemed one step ahead, and I was simply lost, never finding the correct door, the one that would let me out.

The quiet moments were getting to me.

Around six, I drank the last apple-cider-flavored beer, but that didn’t relax me. Nothing was on TV, and I dismissed the idea of rearranging my bedroom. The only thing left to do was to get the paint. At least I could do that. Maybe I’d invite Syd over, and we could have a painting party. I could get one of those cheese and meat platters. And I could also get a slew of hot guy movies—movies with Theo James and Jude Law and Tom Hardy and other hot British dudes. Were all of them British? I didn’t know. Their voices were hot and that was all that mattered.

Grabbing my purse and keys, I headed out to where my Lexus was parked and made my way to Lowe’s. Before I headed in, I texted Syd a quick rundown of my plans and then found myself standing in front of a million and one paint choices.

Well, crap.

Probably should’ve decided on a color. It took a God-awful amount of time before I settled on a charcoal gray and even longer to find someone to mix the damn paint. Two hours had passed by the time I’d made it back to my car and into the grocery store down the street.

It wasn’t until after I picked up the yummy summer sausage dish that I realized I hadn’t heard my phone ding. Sitting in the parking lot, I dug my phone out of my bag and saw that Syd had texted me back.

Not 2night. Maybe this weekend.

Disappointment rose so swiftly, it was like being caught in a summer storm. I stared for so long at the text, the words blurred. I tossed the phone back in my purse and I sat there, staring at the empty car across from me.

Now what in the hell was I supposed to do with the summer sausage? Probably should’ve checked my texts before I’d bought the stuff. I rolled my eyes. God, that was stupid.

Anger flashed through me like a strike of heat lightning. It was irrational. I had no reason to be mad at Syd. Wasn’t like this was pla

I cut those thoughts off, dug my phone out of my bag, and then sent her a quick okay. My attention wandered back to the vacant truck. I couldn’t go home. I’d go crazy if I went back to my apartment.

I didn’t even remember driving to the bar that we usually hung out at together. With college not back in yet and being the middle of the week, the place was pretty dull. As I crossed the floor I’d danced on more times than I could remember, I grabbed one of the many empty stools at the bar.

“Hey there,” the bartender moseyed on up, smiling. He was cute. Older. I think he recognized me. “What can I get you?”

As I played with my phone, I considered a beer. “How about a Long Island?”

“Coming up.” He wiped his hands on the towel. “Tab or pay as you go?”

“Pay,” I mumbled as I dug out my wallet. Seemed ridiculous to run a tab on a Wednesday night.

My eyes watered when I took the first drink of the Long Island Iced Tea. Goodness, it was strong, but I slurped it up, welcoming the burn as it blazed down my throat and chest.

I finished off the drink and then ordered a beer as I glanced around the bar. A few guys were by one of the two pool tables. One of them looked vaguely familiar. My gaze moved on as I drank. At the other end of the bar were two middle-aged men. They looked…tired.

“Another?”

Surprised, I glanced up at the bartender. “Excuse me?”

“Drink.” He gestured at the bottle with his hand. “Do you want another? You’re out.”

My brows furrowed as I glanced down. Holy crap, I was. When in the world did that happen? “Sure,” I said. “Just one more.”

The words seemed to laugh at me, because when he showed up with the drink, he also placed a glass of water in front of me.