Chapter Eight
JEREMY
January 2017
I turn in my seat as a hand rests softly on my shoulder. The blonde with a sweet smile is someone I would normally be happy about approaching me.
But not tonight.
“Wanna buy me a drink?” she asks, taking a seat on the stool next to mine.
Part of me wants to say yes, to get myself out of this funk I’ve been in. It’s been months of the same thing. I spend the normal part of my life doing what I should be doing: working out, going to practice, spending time with my sister – although that quality time has dropped off a bit since she officially started dating her guy. Then when the day is over, I get a drink.
I used go to a shithole near my place. At first, it was fairly anonymous, but when you spend enough time in a place, people feel like they know you. They ask questions and want to chitchat.
I don’t drink anymore to make small talk. I don’t actually know why I do it anymore, but it’s definitely not for that reason.
So, for the past few weeks I’ve been going to a bar near my sister’s place. O’Reilly’s. It’s not anywhere near my house, but it’s walking distance from hers. She doesn’t need to know that I’ve been sleeping it off in my truck parked down the street from her apartment complex. It’s a thirty-minute drive from the area I live in, but I like it.
You’d think with not wanting to chat, I would go to some beat down place. But I’ve found that it’s better to go somewhere busy. Sure, every so often someone comes along and wants to start something up – like the blonde next to me that’s currently waving down the bartender – but for the most part, at college bars like this one, everyone is here to meet up with people they already know. And that means I get to sit at the bar and drink without being bothered, apart from the bartender asking if I want another.
The blonde asks for a chardonnay, then turns and smiles at me again.
She’s cute, and some other night, I’d be lucky to have her sit down next to me and strike up a conversation. Maybe take her home. But tonight isn’t that night. I haven’t had a night where that felt right for months.
“Look,” I say, just as she opens her mouth to speak. “I’m not really in the mood for talking.”
I expect the look on her face to fall slightly or for her to tell me to fuck off and pretend like all she wanted was a free drink.
Which is why my mind is blown when her smile widens into something a little less sweet and a little more wicked.
“Me neither,” she says, leaning closer. “So why don’t we skip the foreplay and just jump right to the good stuff.”
My mouth nearly drops open, but I’m just wasted enough to laugh. Which I’m guessing is not the response she was hoping for, judging by the way her head jerks back and her smile falls away to reveal a slightly affronted look.
“I appreciate the offer,” I respond, grabbing my glass off the bar and swallowing the rest in one go. I huff out a breath in reaction to how it hits me. When did I switch to whiskey? “But that’s not what I meant,” I say.
I pull out my wallet and shuffle through the bills, not seeing super clearly. I grab a wad and chuck it down on the bar with a nod to the bartender. “I’m saying I’m not interested. Not tonight.”
Her face wipes completely blank when she realizes I’m not biting.
“Night, ma’am,” I say as I turn and half-walk, half-stumble away from her.
The last thing I hear as I head towards the door is, “Did he just call mema’am?”
When I take a step outside, I breathe in deeply, letting the cool January air into my lungs. January in Southern California is a weird time. The temperature around Christmas is usually in the 70s, and then almost as soon as the new year hits, the evening temps plummet, sometimes getting as cool as the mid 30s. It’s a novelty to a lot of people when their lawns get a bit of frost on them overnight, but I think it’s a nuisance. I’ve never liked cold weather, and January is my least favorite month. It means when I wake up to go to the gym in the morning, I’ll be freezing my nuts off.
Tonight is a night like that, and I don’t look forward to what’s ahead. I flip my phone out and check the temperature, shocked when I see it’s dipped to 28 degrees. Well, tonight is officially going to be a nasty night to try to sleep this shit off in my car.
I start the few block walk to where my SUV is parked near Rachel’s apartment. It’s a pretty decent neighborhood, and at only just past midnight on a weekend, there are still quite a few people out and about.
It doesn’t take long for me to make it to my car. I unlock it and climb in, turning the ignition and immediately cranking the heat and turning on the seat warmers. The perks of signing a pro contract and getting a few marketing deals. I never would have been able to afford this SUV on my own. No job I ever could have gotten would have paid me enough for a car like this.
I lean the seat back and try to get comfortable, which is a tough thing to do when you’re drunk and trying to fall asleep in a car, no matter how warm the seats are.
I rub my face with my hands.
I need to cut this shit out. Getting wasted at the bar. Alone.
