Page 113 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

He tossed a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt at me. “Wear this.” He walked to the door. “If you’re not down in five minutes, I’ll come up and get you.”

I shook my head. Why were my siblings so damn stubborn?

The door clicked shut, and I let out a groan. I didn’t want to go to a fucking bar and have Rhett try to set me up with random women to get my dick wet. I wanted to go to sleep and forget how much it still fucking hurt to know I’d never see Henrietta again.

And I knew it wasn’t healthy—you weren’t supposed to make someone your whole world, but damn it, she was mine. She was more than that. She was the air that I breathed, the sun on my skin, the ground underneath my feet, and the clouds I loved to get lost in.

If I died still heartbroken, it would be a price I’d pay. Because it was proof that once I had been loved by her. Once I’d been a part of her dreams.

But I could see it in the quiet glances my parents shared across the table. The way my siblings checked on me throughout the week. I was scaring them. So I quit thinking about myself for a second, got off my ass, and put on the clothes.

Before I knew it, I was riding shotgun in Rhett’s truck, praying this night would go quickly.

* * *

Rhett pulled up to Nowhere,the only pool hall in town. It was a big wooden building with a dance floor, rows of pool tables, and enough liquor to drown an army. And since Cottonwood Falls was surrounded by a few other small towns, there was enough business to keep it going. Dad used to say people forgot about liquor when they said death and taxes were the only two certainties in life, and this town proved him right.

And judging by all the trucks in the parking lot, it was just as true on a Wednesday night as it was any other day of the week.

Rhett parked in the lot and rubbed his hands together. “Ready for a little fun?”

I gave him a look. “We both know this is my last idea of fun.”

Ignoring me, he got out and started walking toward the building. Heaving a sigh, I followed him into the dusky bar. My first thought was it wasn’t as nice as Collie’s. My second? That I missed dancing with Henrietta.

“I need a drink,” I muttered.

Rhett clapped my shoulder. “On it.” We walked to the bar, and he ordered four shots of whiskey. I expected him to take two, but he slid all four to me.

I gave him a look.

“I’m driving,” he said.

“And?” I’d done my best to avoid alcohol, because I knew if I started it would be too easy to spiral. Too easy to try and drown out all this pain. But that was all I had left connecting me to her.

“One night,” Rhett said.

“Fine, then you take one,” I replied.

He picked up a shot glass, easily dropping it back. I stared at the shots on the counter, preparing myself for the buzz of liquor. The dulling of my emotions. And the hangover I knew I’d have the next day.

And then I downed the shots, one after another. I came up coughing, and Rhett patted my shoulder, laughing. “That’s how you do it.”

I raised my hand and asked for a beer, which the bartender quickly brought. I reached for my card, but Rhett said, “Drinks are on me tonight.”

I gave him a look before drowning half of one. The liquid slid down my throat, warming me right along with the whiskey.

“Now,” Rhett said. “I see a table right over there.”

Nodding, I walked toward the booth on the edge of the dance floor, wishing I wouldn’t be able to see the spinning couples so well. I sat down and rolled my cup around in my hands. I was tired, but not physically. Deep in my soul.

“Hey, baby,” a woman’s voice said, and I looked up to see Rhett extending his hand to a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl, with her shirt low on her chest.

Rhett gave her his signature flirtatious grin. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

It took all I had not to roll my eyes.

“Oh hush,” she said, sliding in next to him.

---