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“Of course I want to see it.” Her voice slurred and I realized I said my earlier statement out loud, damn it.
“Well, you’re not,” I automatically replied.
I was going to have to do a better job of putting up walls because she was demolishing each one like that old children’s book with the blue monster, Grover. Every turn of the page, a new wall was built and another was knocked down by the reader. I remembered the book sitting on the shelf at my aunt and uncle’s house in the old playroom. It was a classic, but unlike Taylor Jane who was off-limits I had to keep reminding myself.
Gulping in air, she finally nodded. “I’m okay now.”
I moved to get on my side of the truck with her now secured. “And we’re going to keep it that way, friend. You’re a temptation I don’t need to give into.” Maddened, I threw the truck into drive and peeled out of her driveway, tossing her roughly back in her seat. This was the only time I could have these frank conversations with her without having to worry about the laters or the tomorrows. She’d sleep this off and we could forget it ever happened, except it was getting harder and harder for me to do that and save my self-respect.
Her fingers played with her lips, tapping them, a pensive look on her face. I bet they were numb, pliable, and plump under her fingers and I swallowed whatever I was going to say.
Instead she shocked me again when she spoke next. “I wonder if you drive like you fuck.”
The cab of the truck was quiet, enough that one could hear a pin drop or hearts beating. What I heard Taylor murmur was like a gong loud and undeniably clear, making me groan deeply for the both of us. Well, my next to last wall had been blown sky high. I had nothing left to protect me or her. Bite your tongue… down, boy… do not cross that line. Keep her friend zoned for everyone’s sake. I repeated the mantra over and over, but they sounded like useless, meaningless words as the evening progressed and I drove farther from Taylor Jane’s flip to my house across town.
16
Taylor Jane
It was the need to retch that wakes me up quickly and with absolute clear focused panic. Forget pee-pee dance, I was doing the vomit rumba. “Here, honey, let’s get you tucked up tight against the bowl.” Groaning, my back felt drenched in sweat and I promised to swear off drinking ever again.
Green. Everything looked, felt, and tasted green right now. I bet I could touch green. For a moment, I imagined Oscar the Grouch in the Big Bird movie going to the Grouch diner and the cook throwing food and yelling, “Salad for everybody!” It was a strange and random thought that twisted my stomach up worse than before. Tossed salad, tossed cookies, tossing anything with mild force caused me to heave, clutching hands over my mouth, feeling sicker with the retched smell staining my skin. Why did everything have to be such an awful color green? I was tripping over myself to get to the bathroom as fast as possible.
“Hunter….” Pathetic, I whined in misery. He was right there to pick me up gently and carry me smoothly down the hallway of his house to the bathroom. Ever the hero, he placed me on the floor, the cool tiles refreshing against my heated skin and bare feet. I wanted to lean down so badly so the floor could touch whatever exposed skin I had, cooling me down.
“Easy there, I’ve got you.” Hunter kept me upright and the spins started all over again. Regret about drinking, revulsion for feeling so sick, and revolutions of the room played on repeat, tormenting me.
“Oh God,” I cried and swore Hunter mumbled something about that not being his name. Cute. I felt like I was dying and he was being persnickety about my pathetic pleas to my higher power. Now was not the time to explore any snide remarks he made.
“I know you’re just going to break your promise to not get drunk again, so don’t bother apologizing or swearing off alcohol.”
“Are you an expert on nights of indulgence?” A gross burp had me wishing for something to scrub my mouth with while he laughed.
“A little.” He caressed my back, making me shiver. “One good heave and you’ll be right as rain, sweetheart.”
“But I do promise to never drink again.” Whining made everything spin faster on my t
wisted merry-go-round, so I opened my eyes to head off the vertigo unsuccessfully, resting my hands on the clean white porcelain of the toilet in Hunter’s bathroom he was quietly helping me to kneel against.
“Taylor Jane, those promises only mean something when you’re older than thirty and have a passel full of kids to watch the next day.”
He was absolutely right. I had no concept of the ramifications this hangover could produce a decade from now. I wasn’t ready for those responsibilities. Hell, I could barely flip my house project. I’d probably go out with Kristen a month from now and forget all about this night except for how kind Hunter always was and how ready he was to drop everything to take care of me when I needed him. It was an understanding we both had for each other over years of cultivated friendship, but I found myself dangerously close to the edge of wanting—no, needing more.
Hunter cleared his throat. “So are you going to tell me what prompted you to have this party at the house?”
“Do I have to?” I was drunk. I relied on that fact throughout this conversation.
He laughed, hunching down in front of me, moving my hair securely behind my ears. “No, but it would help me understand where to go from here.” I didn’t want to talk about why and the fact I didn’t want him to see me as this good girl, this untouchable friend. I might as well have had the clap or something awful the way he avoided me. It must have been his fear of the plague, I guessed.
“I’m sorry I ruined your sex fest with Bitchy Brittany tonight,” I said in a fake British accent, but he didn’t laugh like I expected him to, and I felt terrible saying it.
He sighed and looked around the bathroom, anywhere but at me before talking again. Agitation laced Hunter’s next words. I wished I knew what he was thinking inside that big head of his with closely cropped hair my fingers itched to touch. “Honey, it was over long before it began.”
“She doesn’t like me.” All I could think about was Hunter touching her, someday marrying her and having babies with her high and mighty self. The gasses bubbled up from my stomach, making me hiccup uncivilized burps of acid.
“She doesn’t know you, and it doesn’t matter what someone like Brittany thinks anyway.” The way he said her name told me things, the kind of things I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear from my best friend. Hunter sat behind me, his back against the wall and the shower rubbing my back, partially lulling the biliousness. Even thinking about someone he had sex with made me nauseous.
“How did you meet her?”
