I growl once again,making sure to stamp my feet extra hard on the hardwood floors. My aim is to ruin Evan’s slumber and annoy him until he’s on my level of pissed. From the amount he drank last night I’m guessing he’ll already have a pounding headache when he wakes up.Good. The jerk totally deserves it. It may be childish, but right now, it’s the only thing that’s making me feel any better about last night.
Not only had everyone partnered off, leaving me to not only sit but dance on my own as well. But then they all got butt-fuck wasted, and I was left as the responsible one. Me? Anyone who ever thinks that is a good idea definitely doesn’t know me that well. I can barely keep all my fish alive, I am not up to the standard of looking after live people!
I did it anyway, mainly because I couldn’t leave my brother out to dry. My mother would go ballistic on my ass. I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that Evan’s always been her favorite child, if anything were to happen to him she’d know it was my fault somehow.
I got used to her favoritism over time, I tried not to let it bother me because I knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose. I don’t even think she realized she was doing it. But it was mainly little things that would tip me off, like when we were in school, and we were ill. Mom would always say I was faking it, so she’d send me on my way to school, but Evan? Not once in our lives has mom called him out on his bullshit. And I know exactly how many times he played the ‘sick’ card too! He hated his geology teacher, and he had her every Tuesday and Thursday.
A loud snore shakes the kitchen walls pulling me from my inner thoughts. Damn brother sleeps like he’s fucking dead, except for all the noise. Poor Katie.
Luckily all of our friends live relatively close by so it wasn’t a massive feat dragging their asses home. It honestly took more effort trying to smush them all in my car. I made it work eventually - with a lot of tangled limbs, groans of drunken annoyance and almost some slammed-in-the-car-door fingers.
That last one may or may not have been accidentally on purpose. It was a long hellish night! If you’ve ever been the designated driver then that’s how shitty I felt by the end of the night, or worse. And, on top of all that, when I woke up this morning I realized that my purse is missing. Best guess is I left it at Lane’s last night, or more like, my only guess because we didn’t go anywhere else.
Grrrrrrr!
It didn’t have much cash in, thankfully by that point of the night, I would’ve spent most of what I took out with me. It had a few credit cards, all of which I froze the second I found out they were missing, and a tube of my favorite lipstick. Overall, I’m more pissed because it was my favorite purse! I only have the one and that means if I can’t find it I’m going to have to spend the rest of the day at the shops, trying to find another one that I don’t find ugly or ridiculous.
I slam the door behind me, my car keys jingling in my hand as I leave the house and head for the bar. Logically, that’s the only place I could’ve left it. Of course, I know it’s wishful thinking that someone hasn’t already picked it up but I cross my fingers and pray for it to still be there.
It’s lunchtime and while the row of shops and cafes are bouncing with people, the bar looks dead. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was closed. I push through the door and examine the bar, Lane is at the far end wiping down the bar. I make a beeline over to him; I figure it’ll be easier to check if anything’s been handed in before I start searching the bar on my hands and knees.
He sees me rushing in and smiles. I’ve known him a while but only because he serves us the best cocktails in town, they have me coming back quite regularly. “Hey Lane, you know if anything was handed in last night?”
He raises an eyebrow, “Let me check.”
I drum my fingers against the wooden topped bar, Lane drops down beneath the bar. When he speaks, his voice is muffled, “What is it that you’ve lost?”
“My purse. It’s pink, it’s got a glittery pattern on one side of it. Well, you’ll know if you take a look inside of it, it has my driver’s license and all of my bank cards. Or, at least I’m hoping it does,” I huff. It better still have my new credit card - I only got it the other day. I haven’t even had a chance to break it in yet.
“This it?” One arm pops up into view, clutched in its grip is my purse - or it looks like it as far as I can tell.
“Think so,” I pluck it from Lane’s hand as he stands back up. I tug at the zipper to check its contents. Driver’s license, credit cards, cash - check. The only thing I spot that’s missing is, oh wow. “The fuckers stole my condom,” I gasp.
Lane starts cracking up and even I’ve got to admit that’s pretty funny, “Serves them right, it’s been in there a decade. Hope it broke on them,” I exclaim. “It’s okay, it’s not like I was actually ever going to use it.”
I’ve only ever slept with one person, someone I loved and trusted. But even after that fiasco, I wouldn’t even feel safe having sex with him. Not that there’s any chance of that. If the condoms didn’t work with him there’s no one else I’m willing to fucking try them with.
The girls don’t know that it’s been eight years since I’ve had sex. But, they also don’t know that I know what it’s like when you accidentally get knocked up. I don’t know that I could ever take that risk again. Only one person has ever made me feel that way, wild and free - throwing all caution to the wind.
Think of the devil and he may appear. Because, holy-fucking-shit, there he is.
It’s possible that I’ve been abducted, drugged and then returned to Lane’s, isn’t it? I feel like that’s the only possible explanation for what’s happening right now. Because surely I’m not actually seeing the man that I loved and set free eight years ago, and haven’t seen since, standing less than ten feet away.
Or maybe, I’m just a fucking magician. The first thought I’ve had of Michael in at least a month and poof there he is. He’s beautiful, even more so than I remember. Michael had always been so striking, the exact definition of tall, dark and handsome. But with the bluest blue eyes.
“Michael?” I can’t help but question - stupidly. He’s grown out the scruff on his face and he’s dressed impeccably, but I know it’s him.
I can’t place the look that takes over his face when he sees me for the first time. I think it might be confusion, but I’ve got to be honest, if he’s confused about who I am I may just go ape shit. “It’s Ellie? From high school?”
Oh, you know. Just the girl that you were madly in love with, that got pregnant and then broke your heart only weeks before you left for college. I mean it may have been eight years ago but it hasn’t been long enough to forget the first girl who dumped you.
His laugh lines show when he smiles, it’s somewhat tight-lipped like he doesn’t want to laugh but my idiocy has forced him into it. “I know who you are.”
Well, thank fuck for that! A small victory for today.
“Oh,” I wanna ask why he didn’t fucking say so but I zip my lip. “So, you’re back in town?”
I haven’t seen him in person since I broke up with him, the summer before I started my senior year. The last I heard about Michael, he was across the country busting the balls of a hacker. But even that was at least a year ago now that I think about it. I even remember crying when I read the news article - it was a proper Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough kind of cry too.
