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Suddenly, she bolts. What's with this girl and her damned bolting?
Not to mention, she's weaving. She's in no kind of condition to be going outside alone.
I exhale heavily through my nose and signal the nearest bartender that I’m going outside.
23
BRICK WALLS AND BLOND HAIR
CASSIE
Kara calls after me, but I’m yelling at her that I just need a quick breath of fresh air and I’ll meet her back at the table. I’m sure my fake smile looks like a death mask grimace on some long-forgotten effigy. But it looks like she’s buying it. She waves at me as she heads to the restroom to get some bladder relief.
I never look back at Josh. I don’t want to see his face. I’m confused and ready to puke, and that damned Jäger isn’t helping at all. Somehow I make it outside, past elbows and knees in that crowded room.
The bouncer grabs my arm as I’m heading out. “Hey, you okay?”
I jerk free of his grasp, my head down, trying hard to not throw up on his cowboy boots with the intricate thread patterns. I have to look away from them because the patterns are going to make me vomit if I concentrate on them too much.
“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath.
I push my hand against the gritty brick wall, trailing it along and using the wall for support as I seek distance from the front door, the noise, the people, and Josh.
Finally, I’m at the end of the building. I’m not so drunk that I’m willing to turn the corner and trail off into a dark alley, so I stumble to the curb and plop myself down into a sit. I hit the pavement so hard I’m pretty sure my ass will be black and blue before long. Like I care. Like anyone sees my ass, anyway. I hang my head between my legs, elbows propped on my knees. Breathing deep, I seek to gain control of my rampaging nerves and stomach.
Footsteps approach. Damned persistent bouncer. I turn my head. Except it’s not the bouncer’s cowboy boots. It’s work boots. Steel-toed. I wish I could say they aren’t familiar.
I turn my head back to face down, studying the side of the road and all the loose little pebbles that aren’t part of the roadwork anymore.
I feel him sit next to me, even though he hasn’t touched me. Even though he’s a stealthy kind of quiet now.
“Cassie.” His voice covers me like sunshine on a cold day.
“What?” My response is a croak that’s begging me not to talk, not to say anything for fear that I’ll lose all the contents in my stomach. Mostly fluid, with tiny tidbits of buffalo chicken wings mixed in.
Running steps approach from the front door. Light steps.
“Josh?” a girl’s voice calls out.
It’s a strain for me, but I raise my head and look at the one approaching.
My eyes try to focus on the figure that’s highlighted by the streetlamp behind it. I squint. Blond hair is cast in an otherworldly glow from the halogen light behind it. I can’t make out her features, but the figure and shape are the same as the girl in the grocery store. The pregnant girl in the grocery store.
That’s when my stomach flips.
I’m looking at her.
Josh is looking at me, and my stomach goes into a place that’s like the worst roller coaster ride known to mankind. God, does it ever. I have one large heave, a sound that’s a cross between a burp and a gagging precedes a retching. I turn my head away from Josh, so I don’t cover him in the splatter that’s readying to happen.
“Josh?” she calls his name again.
24
JÄGER AND WINGS
CASSIE
The girl’s calling Josh, and my stomach’s roiling and pitching. Damned Jäger. That’s the moment my stomach decides to rebel. What timing. The moment it decides that it needs emptying. Jäger and wings don’t taste too good coming back up. I heave a gush out on the road and gulp for air, trying not to swallow anything back because it tastes like hell. Smells like it too.
