The hotel door crashed open and the next thing I knew, I was being piled into a bed. My eyes fell open and the ceiling circled around. Twisting and turning as my stomach started rolling again. I clenched my eyes shut. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. I tried to shake this terrible feeling in the pit of my gut. And as Clint’s groans hit my ears, I felt the mattress jump with the force of his fall.
“All right, can you two hear me?”
Michael’s voice filled my ear and I nodded along with Clint’s grunt.
“Good. We’re not changing rooms. I’m going to sleep with Allison, and the two of you are going to fix this on your own. Rae, had you not been an absolute bitch, none of this would’ve happened. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with you lately, but figure it out.”
I snickered. “The tough guy act doesn’t sound good on you.”
Allison interjected. “I don’t care what you think. All I care about is you two fixing things. Whether you stay together or break up before college starts, you need to figure it out. You’re making everyone miserable, and that’s not okay.”
I furrowed my brow. “Break up with Clint? What?”
Clint sighed. “Don’t act like it’s news.”
What the hell did I say at that party? “No, seriously. I can’t remem--”
Michael chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. In the morning, I’m sure you’ll remember. But until then? We’re going to bed. No more parties this weekend. Fix your shit. Come on, Allison.”
And as the hotel door closed behind them, I licked my chapped lips.
“Clint?”
I felt the mattress undulate before something thudded against the floor.
“Clint? Are you okay?”
He groaned, but didn’t say anything. I managed to open one eye without feeling as if I might puke. I watched him stumble over to the balcony doors. He slid them open and walked out, flopping himself into a chair. I hiccupped as I sat up, propping myself up on my elbows, watching him gaze out over the darkened horizon.
“Clint?”
Instead of answering me, though, he ignored me. Cold shoulder and all. I closed my eyes and flopped back down onto the mattress, trying to wrack my brain as to what I had said. I couldn't remember anything, though. I remembered the shots we took. Arriving at the house. I remembered feeling a bit smothered by Clint’s presence. But that was it.
“Is that why you’re mad? Because I felt smothered?” I asked.
I didn’t get an answer, though. Just the wind softly blowing through the open sliding door.
“Clint, are you hungry?”
“Do you want some water?”
“I think I can get up to get some water. Do you want me to order you anything?”
“A snack from the vending machine?”
“I think one of the restaurants is open right now.”
“Want me to move to the other queen bed?”
Every question I asked went unanswered. And I hated that. I reached over and picked up the hotel phone, haphazardly dialing the kitchen. I needed food. I needed sustenance. I needed the growling of my stomach to go away. I also needed some Tylenol.
Could they deliver Tylenol?
“Room number, please,” the man said.
“Uh, yeah. Room… uh… well, the name’s Rae Cleaver. The reservation is under--”
“I’ll look it up later. What's your order?”
“Do you guys have Tylenol?”
He paused. “Tylenol.”
“I mean, I want food. But I also need Tylenol. And I don’t have any.”
“It’ll be charged to your room from the pharmacy down here at the snack bar.”
“Perfect. That’s fine.”
“And the rest of your order?”
I licked my lips. “Uh… water. Coffee. Um, some french fries and a double bacon cheeseburger.”
“Anything else?”
I scratched the top of my head. “Do you have any pasta? With alfredo sauce?”
“Got a spicy chicken pasta with broccoli.”
“Perfect. That.”
“Dessert?”
“Mmm, something with chocolate.”
“Fair enough. Anything else?”
I paused. “Ketchup, garlic breadsticks--or something like that--and… a bowl of fruit.”
“Great. I’ll look up the name and have it delivered within the hour.”
I sighed with relief. “Thank you so much.”
“Uh huh.”
The man hung up and I fumbled the phone, dropping it to the floor. I figured I could deal with it later. I rolled back over onto the bed and closed my eyes, feeling myself quickly drift off to sleep again.
Before a knocking at the door jerked me awake.
I looked over at the balcony and Clint still sat there. His head bobbing. His leg jiggling. Almost as if he were listening to music. Another knock came at the door. A bit harder this time. And I forced myself off the bed.
“Guess I’ll get it,” I murmured.
Then again, I did order it for us.
I opened the hotel room door and expected the man from the phone on the other side. The smell of the food made my mouth water and I couldn’t wait to get Tylenol in my system. But when the door opened, I found Allison standing there, clutching the rolling silver tray of food.
“Mind if I come in? They delivered it to our room. And I’m pretty sure Michael stole some of your breadsticks.”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. Come on in.”
I went back and sat on the edge of the bed. I took Clint’s tray of food and sat it beside me, in case he wanted to come eat. Then I poured myself a glass of water. I chugged it before taking a bite of my pasta, moaning over its taste. The creaminess of the sauce. The spice of the chicken. The crispy broccoli. Oh, it was damn near perfection. I almost forgot to take my Tylenol until Allison held it out for me. And as I tossed it back, I guzzled down another glass of water.
“Clint, I’ve got a burger in here for you.”
But he still didn’t budge.
“He talking to you at all?”
I sighed at Allison’s question. “No. He’s been out there ever since we got back.”
Allison tried. “We’ve got Tylenol and water for you. Want some?”
Like magic, Clint got out of his chair. His eyes avoided mine as my best friend poured him a drink. She handed him the Tylenol and he tossed it back, then chased it with a few sips of water. And when he set the glass down, his eyes met mine.
Those pain-stricken, angry, empty eyes.
I remember those eyes.
He picked up his tray of food and took it back out to the balcony. He slumped into his chair and started mindlessly eating. My eyes darted around the tray before I found the ketchup. And I went to go give it to him.
Until Allison took it from me.
“I better do that, you think?”
Holy fuck, I think I ruined things for good.
26
Clinton
I felt like fucking garbage. No, worse than garbage. I felt like the garbage’s garbage. The shit that shit threw out. My face kept swelling and I felt a bruise forming despite the fact that the guy at the party couldn't fight worth shit. Or maybe the alcohol had dulled my senses. I didn’t know. My pride was wounded. And for some reason, my damn ribcage hurt. When the hell did I hurt my ribs? I pulled my shirt up and sighed. There were bruises there, too.
Apparently, there was shit I didn’t even remember.
I did remember Rae’s words, though. How much they stung. How determined she was to spit them out. Thinking about them made my heart crack that much more. I forced myself to think about something else. The fries. Oh, these extra crispy fries were the fucking bomb. I inhaled them as the Tylenol kicked in. Along with the hydration of my water. I wanted to get up and get a second glass, but I didn't want to be anywhere near Rae. I didn’t want to talk to her. Or look at her. Or even smell her.
I just wanted to get away from her.
Mike had been a good sport for hauling me into the room. Tossing me on the bed. I wished he hadn’t tossed me near Rae. No matter, though. I owed him big time for helping me away from that party. I picked up my burger and felt the juices of the meat dripping down my face. I took massive bites, swallowing it after barely chewing. My stomach yearned for the nourishment. Yearned for the carbs and the grease to help me sober up. Holy fuck, I’d had way too much to drink.
Never again.
“Clint? Do you want more water?”
“I’ve got some brownies and chocolate cake here. You want dessert?”
“I’m not going to eat all of my breadsticks. Here, I’ll bring you some.”
Rae brought me another glass of water, a mug of coffee, and a bunch of other shit I didn’t want. I refused to look at her as she set everything down. She stood there, waiting for me to acknowledge her. But I didn’t have the energy. I was still licking my wounds. Still dwelling on her words. Still trying to figure out how much she meant and how much she didn’t.
I knew if I talked to her, she’d tell me she meant none of it.
But I knew that wasn’t the case.
All I wanted to do was fill my stomach and pass out in bed. Without talking to Rae. I didn’t want to sleep with her. Or beside her. Or even in the same room as her. I found myself wishing I had never come on this trip. That I had told her she needed to do this by herself. Maybe then, all of this could’ve been avoided.
Or maybe, it would have prompted her to break up with me sooner.