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Of course, even if he is running ahead, I don’t expect him to answer me. Car lights flash ahead and I move toward the edge of the road. I should have worn my runner’s jacket. It’s stupid to be out in the dark, running along the road dressed in all black. It’s like asking to be hit.
I keep toward the edge, cupping my hands around my mouth and shouting, “Seth!”
No-one responds. It was at most ten minutes since he left. Did he really run farther than this? I thought he needed to blow off some steam, not run away from home. When I reach the next street lamp, I pause underneath it, grabbing my phone from my jeans and stabbing my finger onto Seth’s name. I listen to the ringtone, my frown deepening as I count them. When I reach ten, I hang up and call again.
And again.
“Fucking bastard won’t pick up the phone,” I mutter while hanging up on my third call.
Out of all our friends, who is the one Seth is most likely to run to in his time of need? I flip through my contacts, pursing my lips as I read over the names. There’s Henry from track team, but I don’t think Seth cared for him that much. Then there’s Jeffrey, but he’s annoying.
I pause when I reach Mike’s name, rolling my eyes at myself. I’m so dumb. Obviously, he’s gone to Mike’s place. I stab my finger on Mike’s name. On the second ring I hear Mike shout, “Mike here! What’s up, Goode?”
“Hey Mike, is Seth there by any chance?”
“Uh,” there’s a long pause and I hear laughter and shouting on the other line. He must be having another one of his parties. I can only imagine the chaos surrounding Mike as he asks around for Seth. I’m surprised Mike isn’t completely wasted. What time is it? With a quick look at my clock on my phone, I see it’s only nine. Nine on a Wednesday night and Mike is throwing a rager? There must be trouble in paradise. Perhaps, he and Charlie had another fight.
“Mike—”
My mouth snaps close as I hear, “Heeeey!!!” Followed by, “Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”
Just what the Hell is going on over there? I know it hasn’t been that long since I graduated. Hell, it’s probably been about three months since I last got trashed at one of Mike’s crazy parties, but the school year started a little over a month ago. And it’s Wednesday. What’s so fun about getting trashed on a Wednesday? There’s still school in the morning, unless some of them are lucky enough to schedule their classes in the mid-afternoon. Has everyone already thrown their studies to the wind?
I sigh and tap my foot. It’s been at least a minute since Mike left me to go check for Seth, yet it feels like hours. The sun has completely set, leaving me drenched in shadows. An owl hoots above me. The wind rustles through the trees, making my hair rise. I try not to remember all those horror movies about getting lost in the woods, yet my imagination runs wild, making me even more impatient.
“Mike?” I say through my teeth, my anger seeping through that one word. “Is Seth there?”
I scowl when he doesn’t respond. There’s more shouting, some ruffling, followed by, “Oh, shit!” I grimace when I hear a thump. It sounds like he’s dropped his phone. I guess Mike isn’t as sober as I thought.
“Mike!” I shout when he doesn’t respond.
“Yeah, bro! I’m here,” Mike rasps, sounding flustered. “What is it you wanted again?”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. “Is Seth there?” I ask, unable to hold back my exasperation.
“Oh! Seth? Yeah, he’s here.”
That could have taken way less time, but I refuse to linger on it. “How long ago did he get there?”
“Just now. He’s pounding down a fuck load of tequila shots. Man, for a small guy, he sure can take a lot.”
Great. Seth’s lost it and decided the best way to handle his feelings is to get black out drunk. Why am I not surprised?
“You’re at the same place, right?” I ask while speeding up my step, careful not to trip over anything lying on the road. This really isn’t the safest, but I have no choice. Seth needs to come home and apologize to Rachel. I need to make this right.
“Yeah, bro, same place. You coming?”
“Why else would I ask you where you live, Mike?” Yep, that sounded bitter. I really should cool it. It’s not Mike I’m mad at. Seth should be getting my full wrath. Unfortunately, he’s downing as much tequila he can get his hands on. Meaning, when I do get my hands on his puny neck, he’s not going to understand a word coming out of my mouth.
“I don’t know man,” Mike laughs. “I’m drunk. See you soon!”
I force a smile and mutter, “Yeah, see you.”
Mike is such a good guy. Things seem to bounce right off him. I don’t understand how he does it. When people are being assholes to me, I match their energy completely. Which means, Seth is in for a real treat.
I force myself into a run. Thankfully, the air is chill and my shirt doesn’t cling to me despite being a button down. I really should be running in my track clothes, but this will have to do. Maybe I should shoot Abercrombie a message about their jeans and shirts. They could probably make bank and I would have another client to work for.
As I run, I eat those words, quickly learning that the jeans are pretty restricting compared to proper track pants, and the shirt does indeed stick after a while. Despite the chill air, sweat drips down the side of my face. My pace slows when I see Mike’s place up ahead. His lawn littered with college students drinking from red cups and smoking.
