AFTERMATH
Oswald
Memphis’face is the only thing that stops me from shoving him off the tiny porch the second the door closes and she locks it behind us. For the first time in forever, my brother looks lost.
“You heard her admit the pills were hers, right?” he questions as if he doesn’t even know what’s happening right now.
I shake my head before I begin speaking. “I heard her admit to being on a prescribed medication.”
“The label was gone.” He rubs the tips of his fingers over his thumb. “I touched the bottle, opened it.”
“Why were you in her purse anyway?” I ask, mad that any of this happened. There’s no way I think Waylynn is using anything. She doesn’t even drink, for Christ’s sake.
“It fell over when she set it on the counter, and shit came out,” he defends as we walk down the sidewalk, but I wouldn’t put it past him to go through her stuff. I glance back at her house before it’s completely out of view, but the place is still closed up tight.
“So? You could have ignored it.”
“I fucking panicked,” he yells, and a woman getting out of her car across the street jerks her head to look in our direction.
“Please tell me you at least asked her nicely and didn’t start accusing her of being a junkie right away.” I keep my voice down so we don’t draw any more unneeded attention, but my tone is harsh. I still can’t believe he talked to her like that.
“I tried,” he whispers.
“Fuck, Memphis.”
“I know.”
We walk in silence for the next three blocks. I’m too mad to talk to him without yelling, and I know it won’t solve shit if I do. At the corner of State Street, I tell him, “I’ll talk to you later,” then head toward my dorm. It feels like a small betrayal, but not an undeserved one. I keep seeing Waylynn’s face right before we left. It was like all the anger had bled out of her features and the only thing that was left behind was an empty shell of the girl I know.
He doesn’t even try to stop me from walking away, not that I expected him to, but it still feels strange as hell to leave him like this.
The atmosphere in the south quad is completely off. There’s loud music playing as soon as I step out of the elevator on the third floor, and most of the doors are wide open, with people walking in and out of rooms like it’s some kind of wack house party. Once the first person notices me, it starts a rolling onslaught of people trying to talk with me and congratulate me about the game. I even end up posing for a few pictures with a bunch of people I’ve never met.
When I finally make it to my room, the door is open and KJ is sitting on my bed with a girl damn near in his lap. His eyes come up to meet mine, and his easy smile slips into a scowl. He’s not happy I’m here. Well, too bad. He can fuck right off.
“Oh my gosh, you’re Oz Gravlin,” the girl says, as if I don’t know my own fucking name.
“Last I checked. You’re on my bed.” I gesture, and she giggles like I’m flirting with her.
KJ rises to his feet. He’s got a few inches on me and several pounds, but I’m still not intimidated by his ass.
“Alexis, do you see who it is?” The girl’s eyes are super wide as she looks at KJ’s side of the room. That’s when I notice a brunette leaning against the wall with a straw poised at her red lips. Her eyes roam over me in a clear invitation, and I’m not going to lie, it feels good. For just a second, it makes me forget that Memphis ruined my night, but my thoughts quickly revert to Waylynn and how my brother did a lot more than ruin her night.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she says, her voice all smoky and teasing.
“It is my room,” I respond, and my tone might be a little teasing too, but not intentionally.
“Kismet then,” she replies, but the curl of her lip makes me think fate didn’t have anything to do with her being here. There’s this ball in the top of my stomach, like the feeling you get right before climbing on a roller coaster—part dread, part excitement.
Glancing into her dark eyes, I see possibilities, an easy route, one that is comfortable and predictable. All it would take is a few words, and I could spend the night with her. There wouldn’t be any movies and takeout or any cuddling after. I wouldn’t even need to feel guilty about it. Boundaries haven’t been set with Waylynn, lines haven’t been drawn, and we’re free to do whatever we want.
So why do I feel like shit for even entertaining the idea?
I look away from the girl I don’t want but allowed myself to think about using just because I’m feeling sorry for myself, like I deserve something just because I played well today and I wasn’t the one who fucked up. Mostly, though, it’s because I know it would be easy to be with her and easy to walk away after. That ball of anticipation in my stomach pops, leaving behind a vile feeling of disgust with myself.
“You guys going out?” My inviting tone is gone, replaced with irritation, but I’m mad at myself. I pull my phone out of my pocket, feeling the need to apologize to Waylynn for something that didn’t happen but knowing I won’t. Telling her how I was feeling just now would be a death sentence to anything we might have.
“We were talking about going to the Alley, you interested?” the brunette asks.
