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I shrugged, not sure whether it would be appreciated.
We went to the cafeteria for a quick dinner, but I wasn't hungry and just picked at my salad. Then we did what I really wanted: We went for a drink or four.
The pub was just a few blocks away from campus and I wanted to drown my sorrows in margaritas. We did a shot of tequila to start, then sat at the bar and drank down three margaritas in a row. By the end of the night, I was hammered. I was glad we took a taxi home, because I couldn’t walk straight and felt like I might throw up.
"I'll never find another guy like Hunter," I said in my inebriated state. "There's no one like him. Not one guy I've met since him has measured up. In any way," I said, r
aising my eyebrows suggestively at Amy as we tumbled out of the taxi and made our way into the dormitory building.
"You were really in love with him," she said, nodding. "I could tell. He was all you talked about."
"He was so nice. So smart…" I said, remembering how we used to talk about things like astronomy. Then I smiled. "He was sooo good in bed." I groaned out loud, remembering how well he knew his way around a woman's body.
"He's definitely a hunk," she said, as she practically carried me into my room.
"He's an Adonis," I replied, correcting her. "He looks so good, even with his hair so short. I've watched the report over and over."
"You recorded the newscast?"
I nodded. "I did." I went to my television and turned it on, then selected my recordings. The video of Hunter leading his father to the SUV after they left the hospital had been replayed on the news over and over and I’d found the wherewithal to record it before I finally flopped into my bed earlier that day.
Amy and I stood in front of the television and watched Hunter lead his father to the SUV three times in a row.
"He's gorgeous."
"He is," I replied, my throat all choked up at seeing him again while in my drunken state. I replayed the tape again and again, watching as he helped his father into the vehicle. How he scowled at the press and got inside the back seat. How the cameras tried to catch sight of him through the darkened window.
"Are you going to go to the funeral?"
I lay down on my bed and replayed the video once more. "I could never," I said, my voice quavering with emotion. "I'd be afraid he'd run me out of the church."
"He wouldn’t," she said and sat on the bed beside me. "He'd be grateful that you came to pay your respects."
"I was so mean to him, pretending I found someone better."
"He was a player, Celia. He could always find someone willing. You said so yourself."
"I know, but the way I ended things was so cold…"
"You had no choice. Spencer—"
I held up my hand. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I think I need to sleep."
She nodded and stood up to get her bag. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. We'll have a late breakfast."
I waved at her when she left and then lay back down, closing my eyes against the spinning of the room.
"Oh, God."
Then my cell rang. I grabbed it out of my bag and saw that it was Graham.
"Graham," I said, my emotions once more overwhelming me.
"I know," he said, his voice sounding tired. "I saw the news. Then Spencer called to crow about getting Hunter's uncle. Can you believe that bastard?"
"Yes," I said and rubbed my eyes. "I feel so bad."
"I do, too. I wish…"
