The whiskey tastes bitter on my tongue as I swallow it down, praying that this will be the night that it finally makes me forget about her. That it will erase the taste of her on my tongue, and the imprint of her on my heart. I highly doubt it will work, considering I have been half-drunk for the entirety of the last week in the same attempt, but hey, try and try again.
I’m not sure how I got here. How I went from not caring about any girl I ever hooked up with, to being completely and utterly infatuated by the Mayor’s daughter. I never wanted this, to be consumed by someone else, to give them power over me. To love me, or worse, hurt me. I saw what happened when my dad left my mom, and when the Mayor left her too. She fell apart, her life obliterated just because they didn’t choose her, and I vowed I would never let it happen to me. Yet here I am anyway, heartbroken, drunk, and alone.
I wish I could say I didn’t care, that when I walked away from Maddie last week that it didn’t affect me, that I haven’t thought about her since, but that would be a lie. She hurt me, yes, and I hurt her too, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that I care that I hurt her. I shouldn’t care, I don’t want to care, but ever since the night she dropped to her knees for me, something inside of me changed when it comes to Madeline Peters. It’s like I now have this deep rooted need for her. Like she has poisoned me with affection, and now the very essence of her has wrapped itself around my soul.
Where once there were vicious barbs and vile taunts, now lies wicked wonder and bruised lips. Except now it’s gone. The wicked wonder turned into lovely lies, and bruised lips turned into a scarred soul. That affection is now bitter and cold, and the image of her on her knees is tainted with her arguing with the man who will get to keep her. A man I thought I was saving her from that night I walked her home, when what I should have done is walked away and saved myself, because then none of this would be happening.
When the door flies open and heavy footsteps descend against the hardwood floors, I startle a little, pulled from my longing and desperate thoughts to find the eyes of my roommates. Reign and Harper share a worried look as my best friend steps forward and looks at me with an annoyed glare.
“You missed practice,” he draws out slowly, before lowering his voice and adding, “again.” My best friend comes to a stop right in front of me, his gaze softening slightly as our eyes collide. “Coach is pissed.” I shrug, pretending his words don’t affect me. I hate knowing I am disappointing Coach and letting down my team, but right now I need to just not exist.
“From the looks of things, so is he,” Reign cuts in, moving further into the living room and assessing the mess around the spot I haven’t moved from in days. When he reaches me, he smiles tightly, he knows all too well what I lost, he had a taste of it himself. Ignoring the heated anger now burning in my stare at just the thought, he asks, “Do you want a cup of tea?”
Harper laughs, the half-British side of Reign alway causing us amusement as Archer curses, “Of course he doesn’t want a cup of fucking tea, Alexander, he is heartbroken.”
Reign nods, clearing off some of the trash from the coffee table and plonking his huge frame down on it. “I know, but drinking alone is just sad.”
Archer remains standing, too disgusted to touch anything as Harper unhelpfully adds, “Plus the smell in here is getting pretty ripe.”
I scoff, “Feel free to all fuck off at anytime.” I move to tip back more of the whiskey before I realize the bottle in my hand is now empty. I toss it to the floor and flex my fingers in search of another.
“Look, Nova,” Archer exhales. “I know you really like her, but this needs to stop now before-” I cut him off.
“I more than like her, Arch,” I admit out loud for the first time, and the silence that follows threatens to swallow me whole. I know it’s more, I knew it that night when the floor was ripped out from under me by her lies. When I watched her phone ring and her delicate, traitorous hands answered it. When I sunk inside her and felt nothing but fear and regret. If I am truly honest with myself I knew it before then, before I even really had her, and I know it even more now that I’ve lost her.
“Well, shit,” my best friend eventually sighs in defeat.
“Yeah,” I add, in a forced whisper, ignoring the heavy glares from all three of them as my eyes begin to search for some more booze, snatching an unopened bottle from the table beside Reign.
Before I can open it, Archer cuts in again. “Reign’s right, drinking alone is sad.” He grabs the bottle from my hand and I think he is about to join me in my pity party, but all he does is survey the rest of the room slowly. “Harper, you take out all the trash, Reign, you vacuum and rinse out whatever that stain is, and I will straighten him out.” He nods his head towards me, before dipping down and dragging me up from the sofa in one swoop. “Come on, time to shower and get changed so we can all go out drinking together.”
For the first time in a week I smile. I knew I picked the right best friend.
Not even an hour later and I am showered, freshly dressed, and settled in a booth at one of the popular sports bars just off campus. I’m nursing my third Old Fashioned and pointedly ignoring every girl that looks in my direction. I’m done with women.
Archer is by my side, still on his first beer, and Reign is on the dance floor entertaining some bunnies. Harper ditched us for his longtime girlfriend yet again, and I pretend that it doesn’t leave a swirl of jealousy in the pit of my stomach.
Poor, lucky, unfortunate bastard.
My head is pounding, and the dark amber cocktail doesn’t do anything but make my already pounding head hurt even more. It seems alcohol has lost the ability to numb all my pain. What kind of bullshit is that? I thought the more you drank the easier it is to forget, yet I feel empty and full of pain at the same time.
Like I said, bullshit.
Archer is practically burning a hole in the side of my head as he continues to stare at me, waiting for me to say something. I know he wants me to tell him what happened with Maddie, but I still can’t bring myself to say it all out loud to him. Not that it stops him from trying.
“So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or are you gonna keep pretending I’m not here?” I hide my smirk in my drink, knowing he is the only person who can ever call me on my shit. And he’s right, I have been pretending he’s not here, not that his unwavering stare is helping.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I grumble, keeping my gaze on the room in front of us, still ignoring the lingering glances from a group of girls at the next table.
Archer scoffs, slamming his beer to the table after taking a deep pull from it. “Bullshit, you have been moping around about Princess Peters all damn week.”
“Don’t fucking call her that!” I snap, my eyes blazing into his, as I finally address him head on.
All he does is smirk, enjoying the rise he just pulled from me so easily. “Should I call her your girl instead?”
My stare hardens, making his smirk even wider. “She’s not my fucking girl,” I grit through my teeth, “She’s, she’s…” I trail off, coming up empty on how I can even finish that sentence, but Arch stays on my back anyway.
“Smart, gorgeous, funny, out of your league? Take your pick, Nineteen.” He ticks each one off on his fingers like an obnoxious asshole, keeping his smile in place.
“She’s a liar.” I finally finish my sentence with, because it’s the truth, and it’s as much as I am willing to share with him right now.
My response is enough to silence him and I return my glare back to the bar around us, finishing off my drink, and signaling to the waitress for another. Archer doesn’t linger any longer, sliding from the booth and heading over to join Reign, leaving me all alone once more.
It doesn’t last though, and I suppress a groan as I reach into my pocket as my phone starts to vibrate. I’ve already ignored several calls from my mom this week, softening her only with some half-assed messages to let her know I’m okay. Which we both know is total crap. Then there was a couple from my dad, following up on messages I sent him last week, but I am in no mood to talk to him right now, even though I know I need to. But as I pull the phone into my palm I see neither of their names. In fact, I see the last name I ever expected to grace my phone again, especially after how we left things.
Grim.
I haven’t got around to changing her name in my phone yet, and right now I wish I would have blocked her already. Because the slice of pain that cuts through me as her name lights up my phone almost kills me. What the hell is she doing? Why is she calling? I told her we were done, I thought my message was clear, so why the fuck is she calling me? I don’t bother finding out, rejecting the call and sending it to voicemail before she can change my mind and lie to me some more.
It’s been a week since it ended, what could she possibly have to say now? Maybe she hasn’t been satisfied by her future husband and she is looking for another fuck. Well, fuck that, she hurt me, which I didn’t even think was possible when it came to the female race. Why the fuck didn’t I just stick to the bunnies, just mindless fucking and desperate attempts to lock me down which would be rejected every time, life would have been easier.
My heart is racing, fresh anger and treachery consuming my every thought, which is only heightened when I get a notification for a new voicemail. She left a voicemail. What does it say? Sorry I didn’t tell you I had a boyfriend? Sorry I fucked you and fucked you over? Sorry I decided to slum it like my dad did with your mom? Her choices are endless really, and they force me from my seat as I head to the bar, ignoring the waitress with my fresh drink.
I order a round of shots and then start downing all six of them before the bartender has even finished pouring. One after the other until I become comfortably numb, and then I take the Old Fashioned from the waitress and drink that too. This is what I need, to drink until I can pass out, and forget all about the Mayor’s daughter and her wicked tongue.
Pushing off from the bar, I fumble to throw a few bills down to leave a tip, brushing into a guy by accident as I turn to leave.
“Watch it dick,” he grunts, shoving back against me and making me stumble.
“What did you just call me?” I find my feet and stare the asshole down, clenching my fists in anticipation. If alcohol isn’t working, maybe I can turn to another vice I enjoy.
“You heard me,” the piece of shit grunts, showing off to his friend beside him. “Watch where the fuck you’re going.” I decide at this instant that he isn’t worth it, shaking my head and turning to leave once more, but then he adds beneath his breath, “Hockey scum.” And I smile as I crack my neck.
“You’re gonna regret that,” I warn, my fist already flying before he can even register my words.
What’s a little blood to add to my already bleeding heart?
