Page 8 of Rhodes
I decided the next day that I’d have to cut ties with her completely. It seemed like the only option I had back then. Looking back, I could kick myself for not fighting for her. Hazel didn’t take the news well and that cemented the years of silence between us that would follow.
“We can’t.” I pull back, her lips barely brushing against mine.
“Why not?” She stares at me like I’m crazy and she’s not wrong.
“I’m not going to take advantage of you like that. I won’t kiss you until you’re sober.”
She huffs out a breath and pushes away from me.
“You pull me in and then just as quickly you push me away. I knew I should have known better than to let myself feel things for you again.”
My head snaps up.
Again?
I’m about to ask her to explain when she turns and walks down the hallway towards her bedroom door. I stare after her. The word “again” echoing in my mind like it was just screamed into a canyon.
I know that I’m tempting heartache, but I decide to stay on the couch. I want to be close in case she needs anything from me. But judging the soft snores coming from her room, she’ll probably be out for the night.
I take off my jacket and lay down. Sleep isn’t going to happen right away. Not with the idea that Hazel once had feelings for me. And that she could be feeling them again.
Chapter 6
HAZEL
My wake up and it feels like someone is pounding railroad spikes into my brain. I reach around blindly on the other side of my bed looking for a pillow to put over my head but I’m closer to the edge than I expect. Instead, my arm swings out and knocks into a glass of after on my nightstand.
I sit up startled and immediately regret it. The floor of my bedroom starts to tip and I have to lay back down.
“It’s only water,” I mumble to myself. “I’ll clean it up later.”
The memories of yesterday and last night come back to me in flashes. Seeing Ethan in my classroom. Drinking with Jamie-Lynn and Rachel. Driving home in Ethan’s truck. I lift my covers to check and see if I’m still wearing clothes and I’m relieved to find that I’m still in the dress I wore last night. Although it’s now completely wrinkled and hiked up around my waist from all the tossing and turning I do when I sleep. The image of me trying to kiss Ethan and him pulling away flashes in my mind.
I groan at the mortification I felt last night when he rejected me. It’s still just as fresh this morning too.
I lay there in bed for a few more minutes before I finally muster the strength to get up. I grab the robe off the chair near my bed and use it to mop up the spilled water. It’s only then that I see the note. The ink is smudged from the water that spilled on it, but it tells me to, "take this when you get up.” There’s a bottle of aspirin next to the glass laying on its side.
There’s just enough water left in the glass to take the medicine, so I down it in one gulp. I hope it kicks in soon because the way I’m feeling right now, this is how I imagine death feels like.
“I’m never drinking again.” I moan as I stand up. But then I snort at my own words. Even with the pain I’m feeling right now, I know that I won’t stick to that declaration.
I shuffle down the hallway towards the bathroom and turn on the shower. The hot water feels refreshing and for the first time since I woke up, I feel human again. I go through my normal routine, taking the time to pamper myself. It isn’t until the hot water starts to cool that I decide to get out.
I remember too late that I used my robe to sop up the water on my night stand and all my towels are in the dryer. All I have is a tiny hand towel on the counter to use to dry off. I attempt to dry myself with it, but it’s not helping at all.
I open the bathroom door and step out into the hallway naked.
“Oh shit.” I hear a voice mumble.
I spin around and see Ethan standing by the wide-open front door with a box of donuts and two coffees in his hand. I quickly try to cover myself up with my hands, but it’s too late. He’s seen everything.
“Close the door!” I yell.
Ethan snaps out of his deer in headlights look of shock and tries to slam the door shut. He fumbles the coffees in his hand and they spill all down the front of his shirt. He yells out as the hot liquid seeps into his t-shirt. Finally, he manages to get the door shut but he’s still on the wrong side of it.
“I meant for you to get out and then close the door!” I yell.
He realizes his mistake and tries to leave but forgets that he’s already closed the door and runs right into it.
