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Shelly walks over to me and points her finger in my face, her other hand on her hip. “That’s no excuse. Lock your freaking door.”
I shake my head at her. “Yeah, sure thing Mom.”
Erin and Jonas walk over and stand beside Shelly. I scan them head to toe. Everyone looks great. Hair, attire, overall presence. Me? Looks like I rolled out of bed five seconds ago. But I am not out to impress anyone, so who cares. If people stare, let them.
“You ready to go?” Jonas asks, voice soft with a hint of concern.
“Yeah, let me lock up and we can go.” I smirk at Shelly and rise from the couch. I give Luna a couple pets and kisses, then we head out.
The drive to Tampa is a blur. Traffic is busy as usual, but I just stare at the lights along the highway. Shelly, Erin, and Jonas try to include me in more than one conversation, but I wiggle my way out of each one. Nothing I have to say matters right now, so it is better just to stay silent and stare out the window.
After we find a place to park, we walk down the sidewalk to the club. Music shakes the walls of the surrounding buildings. Car exhaust floats in the air. Bright headlights blind us as we head to the club’s entrance. And I am numb to it all.
Once inside, we find a tall tabletop with stools near the bar. Jonas goes to the bar and buys us all a round. When he returns with our drinks, I practically chug the entire beer. Tonight will be a long night. One of many, unfortunately.
Forty-five minutes and three more beers later, I am somewhere between tipsy and drunk. And for the first time since we arrived, I listen to the music playing. Some electronic dance music I haven’t heard before. The beat holds my attention while the bass resonates in my bones. If I wasn’t in loner mode, I would head out to the dance floor and give everyone the show of their life. But thankfully, some microscopic piece of logic still resides inside me.
Micah comes over to the table and shoots the shit with Jonas for a few minutes. Moments later, Jonas, Shelly, and Erin get up and go out to the dance floor. Leaving me alone with Micah. Who has hated me since Shelly and I became friends in the third grade. But the way he regards me right now is different. A sort of sympathy residing in the lines of his face. Sympathy he has never directed at me a day in his life.
“How are you?” Micah leans over and asks.
I bring the bottle to my mouth and finish off my beer. “Tired of people asking me how I am. You?”
“I’ve been better.” I catch him glancing over at a woman behind the bar. She’s pretty—simple makeup, darker blonde hair piled high on top of her head, a smile that would light up the night sky.
“Who is she?” I openly point at the woman behind the bar.
“Could you please stop pointing?” A few seconds after I comply, he continues. “That’s Peyton. She’s the new bartender.”
“And how long have you been in love with her?”
If Micah had a drink, he would have spit it across the room. Did I hit the nail on the head or what?
“I’m sorry, what? She’s only been working here for a couple weeks.”
“The length of time she’s worked here and how you feel about her are irrelevant. How long have you been in love with her?”
He stares at me like I have two heads. “You’re right, it’s irrelevant. But you know what isn’t? You and Gavin.”
I roll my eyes. Nice change of subject. One I cannot ignore or evade. “Ugh, can you please not join the Save Cora and Gavin party? If someone isn’t talking to me about it every day, the daily flower deliveries are. Isn’t it okay for me to just want to go bury myself in blankets and darkness?”
“Seems you are,” he states, lifting his chin toward my hair. “Your hair looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in weeks. And I know you love rocking the black, but not every day is a funeral.”
“You don’t get to judge me,” I say, pointing my finger in his face. “Black is life. And maybe I feel like death every day. Why do you fucking care?”
He sighs and slumps forward. “Normally, I wouldn’t care. But since I talk to Gavin every single goddamn day now, it seems caring is my new middle name.” He cocks his head and plasters on a pissy smile.
Gavin and Micah are speaking to each other every day. What the hell are they talking about? Me? Us? There is no us. There hasn’t been an “us” in thirteen years. And especially when he decided to stop returning my calls or responding to my letters shortly after he moved away. No matter how much time has passed, those memories still sting. Burn. Char.
“You guys talk that often?” I mumble, staring down at my beer bottle.
“Yeah. He’s got a lot happening all at once. Cora…” I glance up at Micah when he says my name. His expression shifts to something more sullen. “He hurt you, I get it. Believe me. But you two need to talk. Really talk. If you don’t want to speak to him on the phone, at least respond to one of the million texts he’s sent you. Of all people, I figured you’d be the first person to listen. You don’t need to explain anything to me, but don’t shut him out. Not when he’s doing everything within his power to make things right. Not when he’s doing everything to come back to you.”
Over and over, Gavin told me he would fix this. Told me he would come back to me. But I had heard those words before. Granted, we were kids and didn’t have the means to follow through. But like I told Gavin before, actions were what I needed. Lies are made up of words just like truths. And other than flowers, love notes, and his constant reaching out to me, I haven’t actually seen his actions.
“I’ll think about it. But I make no guarantees. I’ve been dealing with a lot on my end too.”
“Like I said, I get it. I’ve been burned in the past.”
