Page 98 of Deliah
“I don’t know what to do now.”
“You don’t have to know,” I whispered. “Just breathe. Just cry. Just be here.”
Damion returned with a bottle and two glasses, setting them down gently. “No offence,” he said, “but if you’re gonna get drunk before sunrise, at least have the decency to do it with tequila.”
Cherry let out a genuine laugh this time—small, but real. And for the first time since she walked through the door, I saw a flicker of the girl I knew. Hurt, heartbroken, but still standing. And I’d be damned if I let her fall.
The next few hours were absolute wildness. Cherry got smashed—no, beyond smashed. Full tilt. And honestly, I couldn’t blame her. She’d walked through our door at 5 a.m. with mascara down her cheeks, heart in pieces, and no plan except to cry, drink, and combust. I didn’t have the head to start necking alcohol before sunrise, but I poured a few glasses of tequila to keep her company. For every one I sipped, she had five. And then some. She was spiralling fast. One minute laughing, the next crying so hard she could barely breathe. There was no middle ground, just extremes. Full Cherry mode.
“I swear to God, Deliah,” she slurred, waving her glass. “He’s not even that fit. Like, what the fuck was I thinking? He looks like an egg with eyebrows!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s not an egg, babe.”
She leaned into me, wide-eyed. “An emotionally unavailable egg!”
That made me lose it. But ten seconds later, the mood flipped like a switch. She stared down into her drink, eyes glassy, and whispered, “I love him, though. I fucking love him, Del. I didn’t even want to, but I do.”
I pulled her into me, one arm wrapped around her waist. “I know you do. But you also deserve someone who says it back.”
She sniffled hard, mascara transferring onto my shoulder. “Why doesn’t he love me?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I’d asked myself the same question too many times over the years, about the wrong men and at the wrong moments. All I could do was hold her and let her feel it. Then came the next gear shift. She suddenly stood up, swaying, eyes wild and hair half stuck to her face. “Right!” she shouted. “Come on, Deliah. We’re off t’beach!”
“What?”
She pointed towards the front door like she was a general leading troops into battle. “The sun’s up, and I need a tan and a bloody mojito.”
I blinked at her. “It’s half seven in the morning.”
“So?” She shrugged, then giggled. “We’ll be the first ones there. Claim the sand like pirates.”
“No. Cherry, absolutely not.”
She burst into laughter, doubling over and clutching her stomach. “God, I love you. You’re the only thing stopping me from getting arrested on the daily.”
“I try my best.”
Somewhere between pouring another drink and attempting to talk her into toast instead of tequila, I turned around and found her sprinting—sprinting—towards the pool.
“Cherry, don’t you dare!”
Too late. She cannonballed in, fully clothed. Screamed as she hit the water, then came up laughing hysterically, arms flailing. “Fuck him!” she shouted to the sky. “This is for every time he made me cry!”
I panicked. For a second, I genuinely thought she was going to drown; she was so drunk, she couldn’t keep her head above water properly. I ran across the patio and hauled her out, dripping wet, her dress clinging to her like a second skin. She collapsed onto the sun lounger, still laughing. I wrapped a towel around her. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
She shivered and shrugged. “Would be a bit iconic, wouldn’t it?”
Damion stood just inside the sliding doors, arms folded, watching it all unfold with a look that sat somewhere between concerned and amused. He hadn’t said much all morning—just quietly kept his distance. But I knew he was ready to step in if she took things too far. But also, I think he knew better than to try to manage Cherry in that state. She’d eat him alive. Once I got her inside again, I stripped her out of the wet clothes, threw one of my oversized hoodies on her, and sat her down on a stool in the kitchen. She was shivering, laughing again. “He’s such an idiot, Del. I gave him everything.”
I grabbed a towel and started drying her hair, my chest aching for her.
“You don’t do this shit to someone you care about,” she mumbled, eyes closing for a second.
“No, you don’t,” I said quietly. “But he’s a coward. And you’re not.”
She opened one eye. “You’re being very soft this morning.”
“Because you’re absolutely wrecked and I can’t handle another pool incident.”
