The dark haired guy waited for a car to drive past and then crossed the road. I thought about yelling after him. Maybe following him and making him clean up his mess. I was feeling edgy and wanted to take it out on someone. I wasn’t picky whether it was a stranger or not.
But then the guy stopped and looked back at me.
And I froze.
I knew that face.
It was a face I had hoped I’d never see again.
The face I hated, blamed and missed in equal measure. A face I hadn’t seen since that night six years ago when my entire life changed.
Why had he come back here?
I didn’t really care.
All I knew was that Freaky Flynn was back in Wellsburg.
The man who had ruined my life.
-Ellie-
My head felt like it would split in two. Welcome to hangover hell. I rolled over in bed, the small action making me groan. Every. Single. Part. Of. Me. Hurt.
Seeing Flynn Hendrick last night, after six years of trying to forget him, had served as a catalyst for some good ole fashioned self-destructive behavior. Something I was extremely good at.
I had closed up JAC’s and headed to Woolley’s bar, where it was packed with the drunk and stupid crowd. Of which my friends were the leaders of the bunch.
Dania was slumped over in a booth, her pregnant belly poking out from underneath a shirt that was way too small for her growing body. Her eyes were closed and a bottle of beer had tipped over into her lap. Craig, the sleaze, was nowhere to be found. I guess he had gotten what he wanted and fucked off. Such was Dania’s way with the opposite sex.
I had joined the rest of the group, my nerves jangled and my anger piping hot. Shane Nolan, the guy who had taken my virginity when I was fourteen and had been trying to get in my pants ever since, was making out with our friend Regina, aka Reggie, Fisher on the other side of a passed out Dania.
I had sat down beside Stu Wooten, a guy with a police record to rival mine¸ and stole his beer. He didn’t blink, only raised a hand to get the waitress’s attention and ordered us a round of shots.
I got drunk. Really, really drunk. And then I had gotten rowdy. Shane, once he realized I was there, had shoved Reggie away and spent the rest of the night groping my ass. I had ended up punching him. Reggie and Stu laughed, I had shrugged it off, and Shane had left Woolly’s with a black eye.
The night had deteriorated after that. Some chick had claimed I was flirting with her boyfriend, so I had yanked a chunk of hair out of her head. Reggie had joined in and the place had gone nuts. The boyfriend had tried to pull me off his girlfriend and Stu had jumped him.
The police were called. Stu had thrown a barely conscious Dania over his shoulder and we had taken off out the back door and down a side street to evade arrest.
We had ended up back at my place where the party had continued. And by the time I had helped Reggie finish off a bottle of vodka, I had forgotten all about Freaky Flynn’s return.
I sat up in bed, squinting into the darkness. My mouth was dry and my throat was on fire from dehydration. I crawled over a body sprawled out beside me in my bed. I had to look closely to see who it was and was relieved to find that it was only Dania. She had thrown up at some point in the night and the putrid smell of sick hung in the still air.
I started to heave and barely made it to the bathroom before I emptied the contents of my stomach in the toilet.
Why the hell did I do this to myself all the time? You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now. Alcohol and Ellie McCallum did not mix.
Shit! What time was it?
I stumbled to my feet and lumbered out into my tiny living room. I turned on the TV, ignoring the moans of protest from Stu and Reggie, who were passed out on my floor.
Crap. It was already nine thirty. My appointment at Black River Community College was in a little over an hour. I looked around at the state of my home and cringed. The place was trashed. And that was definitely puke on the carpet.
I kicked Stu’s leg, a little harder than necessary. “Get up!” I yelled. I yanked open the curtains, letting the morning light stream in.
Reggie screamed like a banshee and covered her face with her hands. “Close the curtains!” she shrieked. I kicked Stu again and he smacked my leg.
“Get up! I have somewhere I need to be!” I called out. I turned up the volume on the television, blaring it. Stu finally opened his eyes, glaring at me. Most people would be intimidated by the level of malice rolling off the tattooed guy with the buzzed head.
