“Yes, shit happens. Sometimes, things get rough. But news flash: not every good thing in your life is going to go wrong, Haze. And guess what? Winter? You’re in love with her. You’re not fooling anyone. So you can either put your big-boy pants on and be a man or let her go find love somewhere else.”
I’m stunne
d and unable to answer. Anger boils inside me as the last scenario he’s just given me starts playing in my head. I can’t deal with the thought of her looking at another guy the way she looks at me. I don’t even want to think of her in some other guy’s arms. Some other guy who would’ve told her what she wanted to hear last night.
“What are you waiting for?” he blurts out.
“What? You mean like now?”
“Yes, now!” He puts his hands up. “Don’t you get it? You left her alone in a house with no power all day after you told her you didn’t want to be with her. You’ll be lucky if she hasn’t left town when you get home.”
His words feel like a meteorite, a truck, and a wrecking ball hitting me all at once. He’s right. Why does he always have to be right? I called the power company and they told me the power would be back an hour after I left, but I didn’t tell her. Of course she would think that I abandoned her in a house with no power.
And I did. I did abandon her.
Fuck, I’m such a moron.
“I’ll talk to you later.” I get up and rush to the door. I almost sprint out of the apartment, the urgency in my steps resonating through the silent halls. I slide back inside my car and get my phone out of my pocket. She hasn’t texted me back since this morning. I let my fingers type a quick text.
Haze: Winter, I’m so sorry. Are you home?
Five minutes go by. No reply. Then five becomes ten and I can’t get a hold on my nerves. I start the car and drive away in a roar, heading back to the lake house with just one hope eating me alive: that she’ll be there when I walk in.
Winter
“And for the lady?” the pub employee asks me when we sit in a red velvet booth next to a pool table.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” I say. The waitress nods and walks away.
Ryder turns to me. “Are you sure? I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
“Whatever.” I shrug and analyze the semi-empty pub.
Ryder was right. They didn’t card us. Nor did they check the IDs of the clearly underaged girls in the next booth.
Overall, the place looks okay. I bet it can even get real crowded in here on Friday nights. The deafening music makes it hard to think. But thinking is the last thing I want to do right now, so it’s perfect.
The waitress comes back with our drinks, and I quickly take a sip. Like I expected, it tastes horrible—no, horrible doesn’t even begin to cover it. It tastes like death, but I let the alcohol run down my throat, the burning sensation taking over the pain in my chest.
“Well, someone’s in a hurry.” He laughs and I put the already one-fourth-empty glass bottle down. “So, it’s not that bad?”
“Oh, no. It’s absolutely disgusting.”
He laughs harder. “Then why are you drinking it?”
I dodge his question. “Why not?”
“Wow, this Haze guy really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
“Please stop talking about him,” I say, almost rudely, but force a smile on my face to soften the blow. I don’t need him to remind me of the guy I’m trying to forget every five seconds.
“Oh. Of course, sorry.”
The drinks keep coming until Ryder and I start chuckling for no reason. I can already feel tomorrow’s headache. Ryder’s nice. He says things as they are, and I bet he’s even the type of guy to introduce you to his family and ask if he can kiss you. Haze was never that guy. He just takes what he wants without asking, and I think this might be part of the reason why I’m such a fool for him. There’s no getting bored with him. There’s no such thing as a routine.
Winter, stop. He doesn’t want you like you want him. When are you going to get that through your head?
On beer number four, Ryder suggests that we take a shot, and I’m more than happy to oblige. Just when I slam the tequila shot glass back down, my phone vibrates.