AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Can I also get another one of these?” she asks the waitress, draining her glass. The server nods and hurries away. When I look back at the table, Rowan is now looking at me. I can’t read her expression, and I’m not sure I want to. The night has barely started, and this is already the date from hell.
“So,” Jason says, clearing his throat. He’s playing the wrapper off his straw, actively avoiding mine and Carly’s faces. Instead, he turns to Rowan, pretending the rest of us are no longer there. “The funniest thing happened today in class. So, I was—”
I’m only halfway paying attention, because next to me, Carly has pushed her empty glass aside and is now sitting back in the seat. The red flush from seconds ago is gone, and now she’s pale, ghostly white, and her arms are folded over her stomach like she’s trying to keep it all in.
Shit.
“Hey,” I whisper to Carly, dropping my tone so Jason can’t hear us. “Are you okay? Do you want me to take you home?”
Carly shakes her head as the server comes back with another refill for her and our appetizer. The food seems to have tempted her good mood back, because she dives into the spicy nachos like a ravenous teenager, moaning in ecstasy. I’m a big fan of a girl who can put away good food like that, but I can’t quite seem to shake the feeling that everything she’s eating now isn’t going to stay where it’s supposed to.
“So, Daniel, right?” Jason says, finally looking at me. There’s a small smirk on his lips, and I’m almost positive he’s being a jackass intentionally.
“It’s Dereck,” murmurs Rowan before I can correct him. Her eyes meet mine again, but only for a moment before she looks back down at the table, focusing on the small plate of nachos Jason has dished up for her.
“Dereck,” I confirm. “And you’re Joseph, right?”
Carly snorts into her drink. At least I can make someone laugh.
“It’s Jason, actually.”
“Right.”
“So, Dereck, how do you know Carly and the girls?” Jason asks. He’s finally looking at me now, and it’s almost impressive to see how steady his gaze is. He’s not really intimidated by me, it would seem, but I still can’t figure out what Rowan likes in the guy. He comes off as superior, like he knows he’s smarter than the rest of us. I mean, he probably is, but there’s no need to brag about it.
“We met at O Malley’s,” Carly pipes up with a hiccup. “He actually came to hit on Rowan. Funny, huh?” She’s giggling, red-faced again, and even though she’s sitting down, I’m pretty sure she’s still swaying a bit.
Jason doesn’t say anything to this at first, but he looks at Rowan, who casts her eyes to the tabletop again. That’s all the answer he needs, I guess, because for the next ten minutes it’s Carly talking instead of Jason, and nobody else is even trying to get a word in.
As we eat our meal, I can’t seem to keep my eyes off Rowan. I knew that would happen, of course, but being near her in such close proximity is something I didn’t realize would have the effect on me that it is. Even seated across from her, I can smell that sweet perfume she’s wearing. Her hair is softly curled (Carly’s work, probably), and the little bit of makeup she has on makes her green eyes pop even more than they usually do. And her red-tinted lips are luscious. Even though Carly is sitting practically attached to my hip, I can’t pay attention to anything else but Rowan Bates.
“Excuse me!” Carly turns in her seat in the middle of dinner to flag down the server for another drink. I notice that Rowan’s face falls as this happens, and I know she doesn’t want Carly to drink anymore. Neither do I, for that matter. Some people can hold their liquor and some people can’t. Carly just happens to be the latter.
Then again, she has downed half the restaurant’s liquor supply. I’m morbidly surprised she isn’t facedown in her own vomit somewhere down an alleyway, to be honest.
“Babe,” I say gently, touching her arm. It doesn’t feel like a baby moment, but I know she likes the pet name thing. “I’d like to enjoy the rest of the night with you. Can we get some ice water instead?”
Turning away from the server, Carly turns in my direction, head swiveling like a bobble-head, brows furrowed deep. For a split second I think she’s going to punch me out for even making the comment.
“Why? Just because I enjoy a good drink doesn’t mean—” she stops, mouth snapping shut abruptly, and when the color drains once more from her face, I know what’s coming next.
Carly gets to her feet before I can help her, shoving past the irritated server who looks absolutely disgusted at the thought that one of her customers might be sick. I want to blame her, really, for giving Carly so many drinks and probably finding it funny at the time, but I can’t. There’s no one to blame now but Carly, and she’s in no position to be blamed for it, either.
“We’ll be back,” I say to Rowan. Jason is staring after Carly slack-jawed, as though what’s happening right now is the worst thing of his entire existence. I can see the judgment in his eyes, and I want to punch him.
He wouldn’t understand this.
But I do.
I understand it all too well.
I follow Carly to the women’s bathroom because I’m not comfortable enough to leave her in there by herself. She makes it to the toilet with barely a second to spare, falling to her knees and heaving chicken tacos all over the inside of the toilet bowl. I grab some paper towels from the dispenser and dampen them in the sink, then kneel down next to her, gathering her bubble-pink hair between my fingers to hold it back. Carly is sobbing now, heaving, and I rub her back with my free hand, wishing I could do something more for her than just this.
The truth is, I’ve been here before. Many times. With someone else I’ve cared about deeply.
Godamnit, Dereck, I said get me another fucking beer, you goddamn little shit.
“Here,” I hand Carly one of the damp paper towels and she wipes her mouth with it, beads of sweat forming on her clammy skin. I’m about to help her get to her feet when the bathroom door opens again and Rowan steps in, taking in the scene around us. Even now I can’t read her expression, but she doesn’t look angry, or annoyed, even. There’s pity mixed with something else–surprise, maybe?
