“Here, have a drink.”
I don’t think and drink it. I cough, as the hard alcohol burns my throat. I put it down on the table.
“Jesus, Damon. There’s no mixer in this. It probably has three or four shots in it.”
Damon picks up my glass and hands it to me. “It’ll help your pain. Just take another sip.”
Please put me out of my misery.
I take another sip then blurt out, “Why are you here? We don’t exactly hang out? You said you hated me.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He leans into me. “I don’t hate you.”
The buzz of the alcohol works its way through me. I don’t even think about the fact I’m on pain medication and shouldn’t be mixing any alcohol with what is already in my body.
“You don’t hate me?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry I was such a dick. I came over to be your friend. Can I just be your friend right now?”
If it was any other day, I would be cautious. But the combination of Xander declaring his love for Billie again, the emptiness I’ve felt for so many months, and all my sadness, don’t allow me to be. I fall for his trap.
“I would like that.” I look into his eyes.
“Good.” He hands me my glass and picks up his. “To friendship.” He clinks my glass and we both drink.
The burn of the vodka runs down my throat and into my empty stomach. Maybe this is what I need to feel better.
We joke around for a bit and continue to drink. The food stays in the kitchen. It’s been so long since I’ve talked to anyone. Since I’ve been ignoring the girls messages, the only person I’ve been having conversations with is Xander, and that is only through messenger.
I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t drunk since before the accident, or because I haven’t eaten all day, but suddenly, I’m feeling better than I have in a long time. And it feels good to feel happiness, even if it is a false happiness from the alcohol.
Damon runs his finger from my lips, down my chest and stomach, stopping right above my mound. “Friends help each other out, don’t you think?”
My chest heaves. I know what he’s implying, and I should tell him to go, but I need to feel something besides pain. I think of Xander and how he’s searching for Billie, not thinking anything about me, while I wallow in heartbreak.
Maybe Damon isn’t so bad after all? Maybe I should give him another chance? Maybe I’ll be able to forget about Xander?
“Yes,” I breathe.
Damon leans closer, puts my glass to my mouth, and I take a sip. The burn of the alcohol once again runs down my throat and I cringe, but he gives me another sip.
This isn’t what you want. Tell him to leave.
What you want is Xander and you can’t have him. Wake up and stop holding onto hope for someone who feels nothing for you. At least Damon wants you.
His lips move next to mine. “You want some heat, Charlotte?”
Heat. It’s what I told him we didn’t have.
I stare into his eyes, paralyzed, not sure how to respond.
He laughs. “I’m ready to give you some heat. You want some?”
Xander is heat.
Xander doesn’t want you.
As if in a trance, I nod.
