The loud music fails to fill my head.
To drown out the thought running through my mind.
Again?
She pulled this shit again.
I'm surprised again.
My heart is a lead weight again.
I'm not taking this anymore.
She's on her own.
She wants to destroy herself. Fine.
I'm done being collateral damage.
I take a deep breath and let out a heavy exhale. Peel my shoulders from my ears. Perfect my poker face.
I step through the open door. B
ack into Sandy's living room.
She's over the moon. Dancing with her boyfriend, amber beer bottle pressed to her bright pink lips.
We're here to celebrate their new place, them moving in together. I'm happy for them. Really.
Love is great for other people.
I'm not interested.
Don't get me wrong. I love women. I love planting between a woman's legs, throwing her on my bed, getting her screaming my name.
But that's where my relationships stop and end.
Sandy's eyes catch mine. She pulls the bottle from her lips. Mouths you okay?
I nod of course. I will be. As soon as I find someone to get me out of my head.
I grab a plastic cup from the bar and fill it with room temperature whiskey. It's not good shit. It burns my throat.
Someone is behind me. Pressing her chest against me. "Are you okay, Walker?"
I turn to face a pretty woman with a red pout. One of Bree's friends. An old one. Her name escapes me.
"Fine, yeah." I take another swig. Let the drink sand off the rough edges. I'm a hypocrite, yeah, but it's necessary.
"How is Bree? I haven't seen her in forever."
"She's Bree." And this conversation is over. I nod a goodbye and move through the makeshift dance floor. The song flows into the next one. I think. I can't tell this music apart.
Friends chat on the couch.
A couple is sitting in the arm chair, making out.
A woman is leaning against the wall, her fingers wrapped around her plastic cup, her lips curled into a frown.