moment we were holding each other and the next moment she was gone. The train moved forward, taking me away from her.
Seriously. What. The. Fuck.
She was gone.
Was this over? Because of one little moment, one little memory…this was over?
CHAPTER 10:
R ip my heart out with a spoon. That would have hurt less. The worst part was I kind of felt like this was coming—like no matter what, in the end, one way or another, I was always going to get my heart ripped out by Clara. She stepped off that train, leaving me high and dry, and it felt like all the progress I’d made with her was lost.
That was almost an hour ago.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a text from Stephany. It said Clara had made it back to her apartment. I was happy she was safe. But I was still feeling absolutely fucking wretched inside.
Not knowing what else to do, since continuing to ride the subway aimlessly didn’t seem like an option anymore, I called Paul.
“Hey,” I barked as he answered. “It’s been a rough day. I feel like shit. I need to get messed up. Where are you at?”
He sighed heavily on the other end. “Charlie said she showed up at the game. He said she was totally into you and seeing you two flirt while he was trying to watch the game was almost nauseating. So, what the hell happened?”
“Nothing a couple of drinks won’t fix. Do you want to hit up a bar with me or not?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
I heard it in his voice…worry. Since we’d met on my birthday I’d been a fucking boy scout. I hadn’t had more than one drink in a single day. That made me long overdue. My gut was churning and boiling and killing me from the inside out—I needed to do something right the fuck now. Before I truly snapped.
Part of me wanted to call Clara or go to her and say something I know I’d forever regret. I wanted to yell and scream. Why was loving me so goddamn repulsive? My mom couldn’t be bothered to stick around for me. My dad only tolerated me because I was his prodigy. But Clara…her rejection hurt more than anyone else’s.
“Seriously, I urged. “I’m not in good place. I’m going to drink no matter what. So I’d really like some company doing it. I’ll pay for your drinks too. Bring your brothers.”
“I already agreed, man,” Paul told me. “I’ll come meet you somewhere. It’s no big deal. But is there nothing you can do to fix whatever just happened?”
“Not right this moment. Just meet me.”
We agreed on a place, we met thirty minutes later, and I started drinking.
If I was good at one thing in life, it was drinking.
* * *
F our hours later and I forgot why I’d been so upset earlier. Seriously, it was like Clara fucking who?
Well…not really.
But if I kept telling myself that little lie then maybe I would start to believe it. Soon, hopefully. I palmed my bottle of Bud Lite. I typically wasn’t into the cheap stuff, but when your goal was to make it so your face went numb and your problems disappeared—you drank whatever went down and sat easiest in your stomach. But as hard as I tried, drink after drink, my mind wouldn’t leave Clara. It was mellowing me out. Typically I turned into more a fighter when I drank, not a lover like I was kind of feeling tonight.
“So have you had enough to tell me what happened yet?” Paul urged. Charlie, the only one of Paul’s brothers that came along with me today, sat in a booth across the bar. He was talking to a couple of girls, not interested in my moodiness.
“Not drunk enough yet,” I told Paul. Unfortunately, I was still fairly level-headed. I had a high tolerance. It would take a few more.
Paul nodded. That worry wasn’t as hard on his face anymore. I was managing to keep it together better than I might have expected a few hours ago. Just being around other people kind of helped. Funny how that worked.
“You know,” he mused. “I’ve met Maggie three times now…I think. Yeah, three times. And in
Seriously. What. The. Fuck.
She was gone.
Was this over? Because of one little moment, one little memory…this was over?
CHAPTER 10:
R ip my heart out with a spoon. That would have hurt less. The worst part was I kind of felt like this was coming—like no matter what, in the end, one way or another, I was always going to get my heart ripped out by Clara. She stepped off that train, leaving me high and dry, and it felt like all the progress I’d made with her was lost.
That was almost an hour ago.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a text from Stephany. It said Clara had made it back to her apartment. I was happy she was safe. But I was still feeling absolutely fucking wretched inside.
Not knowing what else to do, since continuing to ride the subway aimlessly didn’t seem like an option anymore, I called Paul.
“Hey,” I barked as he answered. “It’s been a rough day. I feel like shit. I need to get messed up. Where are you at?”
He sighed heavily on the other end. “Charlie said she showed up at the game. He said she was totally into you and seeing you two flirt while he was trying to watch the game was almost nauseating. So, what the hell happened?”
“Nothing a couple of drinks won’t fix. Do you want to hit up a bar with me or not?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
I heard it in his voice…worry. Since we’d met on my birthday I’d been a fucking boy scout. I hadn’t had more than one drink in a single day. That made me long overdue. My gut was churning and boiling and killing me from the inside out—I needed to do something right the fuck now. Before I truly snapped.
Part of me wanted to call Clara or go to her and say something I know I’d forever regret. I wanted to yell and scream. Why was loving me so goddamn repulsive? My mom couldn’t be bothered to stick around for me. My dad only tolerated me because I was his prodigy. But Clara…her rejection hurt more than anyone else’s.
“Seriously, I urged. “I’m not in good place. I’m going to drink no matter what. So I’d really like some company doing it. I’ll pay for your drinks too. Bring your brothers.”
“I already agreed, man,” Paul told me. “I’ll come meet you somewhere. It’s no big deal. But is there nothing you can do to fix whatever just happened?”
“Not right this moment. Just meet me.”
We agreed on a place, we met thirty minutes later, and I started drinking.
If I was good at one thing in life, it was drinking.
* * *
F our hours later and I forgot why I’d been so upset earlier. Seriously, it was like Clara fucking who?
Well…not really.
But if I kept telling myself that little lie then maybe I would start to believe it. Soon, hopefully. I palmed my bottle of Bud Lite. I typically wasn’t into the cheap stuff, but when your goal was to make it so your face went numb and your problems disappeared—you drank whatever went down and sat easiest in your stomach. But as hard as I tried, drink after drink, my mind wouldn’t leave Clara. It was mellowing me out. Typically I turned into more a fighter when I drank, not a lover like I was kind of feeling tonight.
“So have you had enough to tell me what happened yet?” Paul urged. Charlie, the only one of Paul’s brothers that came along with me today, sat in a booth across the bar. He was talking to a couple of girls, not interested in my moodiness.
“Not drunk enough yet,” I told Paul. Unfortunately, I was still fairly level-headed. I had a high tolerance. It would take a few more.
Paul nodded. That worry wasn’t as hard on his face anymore. I was managing to keep it together better than I might have expected a few hours ago. Just being around other people kind of helped. Funny how that worked.
“You know,” he mused. “I’ve met Maggie three times now…I think. Yeah, three times. And in
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