Page 39 of Attractive Forces
I don’t pause where a group of people is huddled, laughing at something on someone’s phone. Instead, I move past them, walking around the corner to the other side of the gym that faces the tennis courts.
I stick my hands in my pockets and take a deep breath.
“Hey, it’s Jake.” A slurred voice comes out of the darkness.
I squint. In the dim light, I can make out a guy sitting about ten feet away from me, propped against the side of the wall.
As I move closer, I recognize Sammy Beacon from my physics class. He’s one of those people who watches everything that happens in class through half-lidded eyes, as though he’s struggling not to fall asleep, but then always has the right answer when he’s called upon.
We worked together on a project a few months ago and got along well. He’s a whiz computer programmer but always struck me as a loose cannon.
So it doesn’t surprise me to see a metal hip flask in his hand.
He offers it up to me. “You want a drink?”
I stare at the glint of the hip flask for a few seconds, and a reckless impulse takes hold of me.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do want a drink.”
I sit next to him on the concrete, pulling my knees up to my chest.
Sammy hands me the hip flask. My fingers awkwardly grip the cool metal.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m not the kid who drinks illicitly at school functions. I’ve never been that kid.
But I need something to try to drown the hot throbbing mess of jealousy in my stomach.
There’s also regret in there. Regret that I can’t just like Chloe like that. God, things would be so much simpler if I just liked Chloe.
The liquid scorches my throat as it goes down. It settles uneasily against my stomach lining. I don’t care.
“Hey, steady on,” Sammy says, but I ignore him and take another swig.
I wipe my hand over my mouth and hand it back as my thoughts swirl.
With how I feel about Logan, how can I keep pretending to just be friends with him?
I’m going to have to break off our friendship. And that thought makes me put out my hand when Sammy offers the hip flask again to take another long drink.
Being friends with Logan has been the bright spot in my life for the last couple of months. The idea of not having that makes me feel like I’ve literally got a black hole inside me, swallowing all of the light.
But I can’t keep doing this. Anything that ends with me sitting in the shadows behind the gym sharing a hip flask can’t be good for me.
“So,” Sammy drawls, tipping his head back to look at the sky. “You want to talk about what’s got you drinking with me tonight?”
“No.” My answer is curt. Then I remember it’s not just about me. “What about you?”
Sammy continues to stare at the heavens. “Just the typical shit. The girl I like is with someone else.”
“That’s crap.”
“Yep.”
“I know what that feels like.”
Just like I’m getting familiar with the feeling of alcohol sliding down my throat, making an uneasy truce with my stomach.
I don’t know how long Sammy and I sit here, the dim noise of music and laughter inside the gym providing a backdrop to our misery drinking.
