25
QUINTON
Before I even open my eyes, I notice three things.
One, I’m warmer than normal in a cozy, comfortable way.
Two, I feel oddly rested as though I’ve slept longer than usual.
And three, everything hurts. There is a dull ache in my head, and my hand feels like I punched a concrete wall. Then I remember… I did.
Fuck.
I had no intention of drinking as much as I did or getting into a fight. Or coming here after. I didn’t plan any of it, but I just couldn’t take it any longer. The pain was too much, and I didn’t care about the consequences. All I wanted was for the pain to stop.
One by one, memories from last night pop back into my head.
Nash passes me the bottle of bourbon that he, Ren, and I are drinking. My head is swimming with thoughts that refuse to go away. The weight of losing her is suffocating me. She’s dead, and nothing will ever bring her back. I can’t breathe or think. I’m barely functioning right now, and I don’t know how to stop feeling everything I’m feeling. I want to shut it off. At the same time, I don’t want to forget her. I don’t want another day or minute to go by without her.
Nobody tells you that grief is like living two lives, one where you’re forced to move on and go day by day living, and the other where your heart bleeds with every thump. A wound that will never heal.
“Let’s play a game,” Nash exclaims.
“Boo! Nobody likes your games,” I slur, feeling the effects of the bourbon. The numbness that encompasses me is something I’ve craved for months.
“No, seriously, let’s play. You get one hour alone with Anja or Aspen. Who you fucking?”
“That’s easy. While Aspen is easy on the eyes and would probably be an easy lay. I bet she’s a virgin. Plus, she’s a rat. I’m not going to fuck the enemy, so I’m going with Anja,” Ren explains.
Both Ren and Nash break out in laughter. My lips press into a firm line, and I decide I’m not even going to touch this one and instead take a huge gulp from the bottle of liquor. The brown liquid stopped burning a long time ago, but I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
“What about you, Q, you fucking Aspen or Anja?” Nash questions.
Ren is smiling smugly from where he sits. He knows I’m a little infatuated with Aspen, but he has no idea how deep any of this goes.
“Neither,” I sneer and shove the bottle at Ren.
The last thing I want to talk about is Aspen, not today, not when I should be remembering someone else, but again, maybe that’s what I need. Maybe I need her right now, and I’m just too stubborn to admit it.
“What do you mean neither?” Nash laughs. “Rumor has it you’ve been seen near her dorm. Don’t tell me you haven’t fucked her yet.”
“She’s nobody.”
“Really? That’s not what I’ve heard.”
I shove out of my chair, and it goes flying into the wall. My patience is gone, and the pain in my heart is making it hard for me to make rational choices.
Nash has a death wish. I’m sure of it.
“I don’t care what you’ve heard.”
He shrugs. “I mean, she’s a rat, yes, but she is a hot piece. I’m not the only one who jerked off to her sucking your dick. I’m pretty sure every guy in this school has it by now. Let’s be honest, a wet hole is a wet hole, am I right?”
I’m not sure what in that statement makes me snap, but like a rubber band being pulled tight, I sling across the table and grab Nash by the collar of his shirt.
“Dude, what the fuck,” he growls, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Ren standing, ready to break us up.
“Shut up!” I give him a shake, trying to restrain myself from punching him in the fucking face, but then he has to open his trap.