One Week Girlfriend(30)

“Yeah, but you’re my guest. I’m sure you were bored all day.” He moves closer to the couch and that’s when the smell hits me.

He reeks of beer. And his eyes are kind of bloodshot, his cheeks ruddy. I bet he’s drunk. My guard goes immediately up and I shove myself into the corner of the couch when he settles down beside me. I hate the smell of beer—crazy, considering I work in a bar.

But when I smell it at La Salle’s, it’s different. I’m busy, I’m moving, I’m serving customers and working my tail off. In a one-on-one situation, the scent of beer reminds me of my mom and all her shitty boyfriends. How they drink constantly. Almost every one of the guys she’s been with were complete alcoholics with rage issues.

Angry drunks scare the hell out of me and Drew’s a big guy with lots of pent up issues. If he displays even a glimmer of anger toward me, I’m out of here.

“I was fine,” I say. “I sat on the beach for a long time.”

“Didn’t you get cold? The weather wasn’t the best out there today.”

I shrugged. “Figured I should soak it up while I’m here, right? Doubt I’ll ever be somewhere as beautiful as this again.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Fable.” His voice is soft, his expression…it breaks my heart. He looks so bleak, so disturbed, I wish I could say something, do something to ease his pain.

He studies me, his blue eyes dark, his head tilted to the side. I wonder what he sees. I know what I see—a confused, lonely man who won’t let anyone in.

For whatever stupid reason, I want to be the one he lets in. Maybe I could help him, maybe I couldn’t, but he needs comfort. I can tell.

Like souls find each other, you know. As corny as it sounds, I’m starting to believe we were brought together for a reason.



Drew



As usual, she’s looking at me like she can see right through me, and she’s making me nervous. I’ve stayed away from Fable all day on purpose. Everything that happened last night left me feeling like I could spiral completely out of control if I didn’t get my shit together and quick. I haven’t felt that way in long time. This is the reason why I don’t come back home.

And I’m never coming back here after this visit. I don’t care how much I might hurt my dad, I can’t do this any longer. I can’t pretend that this place, these people don’t affect me. They do. Everything fucks with my head and reminds me of what I used to be. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’m not.

There’s no other choice. I have to stay away.

Looking at Fable, seeing the sympathy in her eyes, I know I should stay away from her too. Once she really gets to know me, I could hurt her. I know I’ll hurt her. I’m afraid she’s this close to figuring out what my problem is. And if she doesn’t, I’m afraid I’m this close to blurting it out. Once I confess, I can never take it back. Ever. It’ll be out there, making the both of us uncomfortable. Ruining whatever sort of relationship, friendship, whatever you want to call it, we have.

I couldn’t stand the thought, so I left the house early, jumping on the chance to golf with my dad when he asked. Not only did we play a long, intense eighteen rounds with a couple of his friends, we then ended up at the golf course bar. I’m not a big drinker but I slammed back beer after beer, enjoying the buzz the alcohol gave me. My brain settled into a numb, fuzzy place where I could just forget.

We joked, we talked, my dad bragged about what a great football player I am and that made me feel good. Dad and I don’t get a lot of time together alone. Adele’s always there trying to muck stuff up, or we’re doing something that doesn’t allow for too much one-on-one time. The lunch we had together yesterday had been uncomfortable, and I’m thankful we got past that.

Spending today with Dad was good for both of us. But I always had that nagging feeling in the back of mind. That I was ditching Fable and doing it on purpose and the guilt lingered.

That’s why I told her I was sorry.

“I caught your stepmom sniffing around outside this afternoon.” Fable’s tone is casual, but her words are like nine little bombs dropping all over me.

Tension radiates up my spine, across my shoulders and I stiffen. “Yeah?”

Fable nods. “I confronted her.”

“What?” Shock rips through me. So does fear. What if Adele said something?

“Yeah. She didn’t like it either. Told me that we wouldn’t last, that I wasn’t your usual type.”

I remain silent, afraid of what she might say next.

“And when I asked her what was your type, she said she was.”