“So go get a new one,” she says with her signature eye-roll. She was made to do that. It makes me chuckle, and I tip my cup back and feel the burn of straight rum, my chest and arms tingling with the warmth. Yeah, I should cut myself off now.
Cass stays close to Rowe, and Nate keeps giving me the look—the look. I told him everything, and he told me I was being an idiot. He’s probably right. And I’m blowing this chance, too, blowing right through it with one more rum and Coke. Mmmmmmm.
There’s giggling, and Paige’s friends find me amusing. I focus on them, because they think I’m funny. Paige is a little drunk too. She must be—because she also finds me humorous. And she’s no longer threatening to cut my junk. So that’s good, right?
Cass isn’t laughing. She’s not having a good time. No, she’s leaving. Wait…she’s leaving? My cup is half full…or maybe it’s half empty? How does that saying go…? I’m swishing the flat Coke around in circles in my cup—no more bubbles from carbonation, only the hot burn of rum. I could tip this back and forget everything, just stay here, see how the giggling plays out. Maybe wake up in the morning to Paige busting my door down and kicking me in the groin with one of her spikey heels.
But Cass is leaving. And she looks like she’s going to cry. And…
I did that.
“I’m out of here, man. See ya later,” I say to my brother, tossing the rest of my drink in the grass and pushing myself to the dirt where my wheels can move a little more easily.
She sees me coming, and she doesn’t run. She’s not running. My head is making everything look sideways, and I’m pretty sure my speech is going to sound like shit a green alien says, but she’s not running. This is good.
“Hey,” I say, moving up alongside her on the walkway. We’re both traveling slowly, no rush—nowhere to go.
“Hey,” she says, and she sounds broken. So damn broken.
“So,” I start, but then my tongue suddenly feels fat. I’m fuzzy, my mind fuzzy. Everything, so…fuzzy. I’m aware enough to know that I won’t be able to do this right, but I have to slide a rock in the door, keep it open, so I can fix this shit in the morning.
“Okay, so here’s the deal,” I say, doing my best to sound serious. Her arms are folded, her mouth is in a firm line, and her eyebrow is tilted up slightly in my direction. But she’s still with me, and she’s not giving me the finger. “I’m a little drunk.”
“Statement of fact,” she laughs. She laughed. Okay, at my expense, but also a good sign.
“Correct,” I say, holding one finger up like I’m somehow accentuating her point. What am I, in a boardroom? “That is a fact. I am drunk. Another fact…I am sorry.”
This stops her. Her face is still the same, and her arms are still guarding her body. But she’s looking at me differently now. I hope I say the correct words, just enough to prop that door open until I can do this the right way.
“I’m sorry,” I say it again, and this time, somehow by the grace of god, it comes out sober—sober and honest. “I am so unbelievably sorry. Sorry for what I said, how I reacted, for being a dick.”
“Yes, you were a dick,” she’s quick to jump on that.
“I know, another statement of fact,” I say with a smirk, once again holding up a finger. I look at my finger, and it makes me laugh, then I look back at her and she looks like I’m losing her. Pull it together, Tyson—slide the rock in the door. “I have a lot of groveling to do. And I’m in—I’m ready to do it. But if you could just give me the night, just…just wait for me to get my head on straight.”
“Just let you go home, vomit, and then survive your hangover you mean?” she says, but there’s a smirk. I see it. She’s smirking.
“One,” I say, holding the finger up again. I quickly put it down. “One, I don’t vomit. I can hold my liquor, baby.”
“Ohhhhh, definitely do not call me baby,” she says.
“Right, okay, baby,” I laugh, but she’s not laughing, so I stop. “Right. No baby. I’m just saying wait with me, until the morning, so I can say everything that needs to be said in a way you deserve to hear it.”
I’m not smiling anymore. No, I’m pretty sure I’m begging. Her arms are still crossed, but she nods to the dorm and I follow along, holding my breath until we get to her door and she opens it wide enough to let me inside.
She reaches under her bed and pulls a bin out with a big comforter and some extra sheets, tossing everything on the floor.