AllFreeNovel
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“All what?”
“Trophies, money, fame,” I say, eating the last bite from my food.
“That didn’t mean shit to him,” he rasps. “I think you have it all wrong.”
“About what?”
“That it was easy for Jay to leave you. He talks about you every day. Fuck, I remember when I came to live with him, he showed me pictures of you. I even helped him paint your room.”
“You did?” I ask, trying to hide the jealousy in my voice. He’s had this whole other life with Jay. A life I wasn’t a part of, and it hurts.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he answers, dimples popping. “He always held out hope you would come back, but I think New York was much more interesting than watching a bunch of teenage dudes and your old man train?”
I lock eyes with him, not knowing what to say, because he’s right.
“You like living in New York?” he asks, and sucks on his straw.
“Yeah, I do. It’s always busy; you see something new each time you step out the door. Me and my best friend, Tim, used to go out and party almost every day.”
“I guessed you had some party in you,” he teases, nudging me in the shoulder with his elbow.
I laugh before I take the last sip from my horchata. “I did. I had a lot of friends, or so I thought. Turned out they only liked to party if there was enough booze involved. It just came to a point that I couldn’t remember why I was friends with them in the first place,” I say. I quickly bite on my lip. Shit, why am I telling him this?
He turns to look at me. “What do you mean?”
“Tim is the only real friend who stuck around, I don’t really party anymore. It was fun for a while, but …” I give him a look, “… it didn’t mean shit.”
“I think we are going to get along great, you and I,” he drawls.
“If you say, ‘This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship,’ so help me,” I joke.
“Nah, I think I’ll leave that one to Bogart,” he answers, laughing softly.
“So you’re a movie buff?”
He leans back against the windshield, locking eyes with me. “Got a lot of time on my hands when we’re traveling.”
I stretch out my legs, and get comfortable next to him. We are both quiet, looking at the sky and the setting sun.
“I probably won’t watch Bambi ever again though,” he deadpans, and I burst out laughing. “Hey, don’t make fun of me. That shit was the first ever horror movie I saw. Someone shot his fucking mom,” he tells me in a serious voice.
“It was kinda sad,” I admit.
Shaking his head before he looks me straight in the eye, he says, “Babe, it was brutal. My old man put that on when my mom…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. Leaning his elbows on his knees he sits up, and I do the same, waiting for him to continue with his story.
“After she died, my childhood was challenging, as my NA sponsor would say,” he sighs.
“You mean Narcotics Anonymous?” I ask, trying to hide the surprise from my voice. I know the guy is a bad boy, but drug addiction is a whole other ballgame.
“Yeah, the one and only,” he says, his voice light like he’s trying to make a joke out of it.
“What did you use?” I ask. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry. It’s anonymous for a reason.”
He takes a deep breath. “What didn’t I take? But my preferred poison was oxy. Mom was a heroin addict, she overdosed when I was ten,” he tells me, cracking his neck. “Fuck, haven’t told a chick this before, sorry girl. You’re taking this friend thing to a whole other level, Shorty.”
“I’m sorry, Hunter,” I say, meaning it.
