Our crew doesn’t break down any of our tables until well after six o’clock. What a terrible hour of the day; it’s too early to go to bed, but too late to do much of anything else. I’m relieved when one of the guys from a couple of tables to our left approaches to invite me out for a bar crawl with their crew.
It’s a quick run up to the hotel room from Hell to drop off my things and change into some fresh clothes and a few spritzes of cologne before I’m down in the lobby, waiting for everyone else to meet me.
Our first stop is a cool little dive bar. There’s a full wall of liquor behind the bar, a pool table that I might find myself using, if we were planning on staying longer, and strings of lights hanging from the ceiling like streamers at a child’s birthday party. It’s dark in here, but the atmosphere is good.
We stay for two drinks before moving on to another bar, and then another after that.
We don’t stay long enough to properly settle into any one place, and by the time we’ve reached the final bar, I’ve got a solid buzz going. My cheeks and the tip of my nose have a soft tingle to them, the world is moving just a little more slowly than usual, and everyone around me is a little better looking than I would find them to be on an average day.
It isn’t until I’m one too many deep that I realize that all I’m doing here is delaying the inevitable, and ultimately, once again, proving my sister right.
A few taps against my phone’s screen brings a ride to the door, and I climb into it, on my way back to the hotel that I’ve spent all night avoiding.
“Shhh,” I whisper to the door’s locking mechanism as I press my card against it, earning a beep in response.
Pushing open the door, I hope against everything that I believe in that Tripp and Julia will be asleep when I step inside. I’ve been ready to come back to the room since somewhere around ten o’clock, but I’ve been doing my best to avoid them since the conference ended.
Much to my disappointment, when I enter the room, they’re sitting on their bed together. Julia has a glass of rosé in her hand and Tripp has a bottle of beer in his. Jules looks like she’s been crying, but both of them look like they’re being weighed down by something heavy.
“Don’t mind me,” I say as I walk past them and toward my own bed. “Keep talking about whatever it is you were talking about.”
“We were talking aboutyou,” Tripp tells me.
I don’t miss the venom in the way that he practically spits the words at me.
And that scratches at something deep in my chest.
An ache.
A loneliness.
“So that’s it,” I wonder out loud. “She’s forgiven, you two are all lovey-dovey and happily married again, but it’s screw me, right?”
Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he sips from his beer, Tripp says, “I’m not obligated to forgive you.”
“Yes you are,” Julia tells him, pressing a hand to his chest. Tripp’s brow pinches in annoyance. “If you got in a wreck, who would you call? Before anyone else – who would you call?”
His gaze narrows in my direction, bringing with it an itch at the surface of my skin.
“Brody,” he finally answers.
“Stop it,” Jules pleads, using that hand to press more firmly against his chest. “He’s your best friend. We’re stuck here together for another twenty-four hours, so you may as well try with him, too.”
I wait, maybe in not such a small way hoping that he’ll agree with her, but he doesn’t. He just stares at me and takes another swig from his beer.
“Whatever,” I scoff. “I’m going to bed.”
My shoes land near the balcony door when I kick them off, and I drop onto my mattress and flick off the light between our beds. I don’t bother trying to say goodnight to either of them before I slip off my shirt and pants, dropping them onto the floor before I flop the blankets over top of myself.
I might have to catch a bus in the morning; I can’t do another day of this.
This is my own personal brand of torture.
Whispering.
Who the fuck is whispering?
When I open my eyes and my vision finally adjusts to the darkness in the room, I make out the shape of Tripp’s right arm around Julia’s shoulder, her fingers intertwined with his. His left hand is tucked beneath their bedding. Jules’s back arches and her eyes drift shut as she bites down on her lower lip to keep herself from making any noise.
