“I’m fine. I don’t drink too much.” I heard the defensiveness in my tone. Anger rose at him and his judgment. Who was he to decide how much I had to drink? “Stop being a dick, Max, come on, let’s go back to our friends.”
“Do you know any of their names?” I saw the fire in his eyes, Max didn’t argue often but he was mad, and at me. My stomach fell, the contents curdling until I worried about getting sick.
“I, uh…it doesn’t matter. Look, we were having a good time.” I couldn’t grasp thoughts properly, they ran like water through my fingers.
Max was speaking but I couldn’t understand.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re starting to remind me of her. In the end, you’ll be the same as her. Bitter, lonely, and drunk,” Max spat at me.
A distant part of me thought that he looked like an angry cat. Feeling that little bit soberer, I didn’t let those words escape. Self-preservation had won out, but I didn’t know what to do.
I stood staring at him for an unknown amount of time.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” His anger took me aback.
He made a noise of frustration and grabbed my hand. Taking me back through the club, he made me settle the tab with a hefty tip as I tried to find the words. Something was very wrong.
Outside, Max took a long breath and tapped on his phone.
“I’ve called you a ride,” he told me plainly.
“Where are we going? Another club?”
He let out a garbled scream. “No! Fuck!” He paced back and forth, people moving out of his way in a hurry.
“Max?”
My words had him pausing in front of me. “I’m done, Charlie. Just done.”
“What?”
“I need a break from you. Give me some space. Don’t call. Don’t come to my place or my business.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes
“What’s happening?” Tears threatened as a car pulled up.
“Ride for Charlie?” The driver called out of the open window.
“Until you get yourself sorted, we can’t be friends anymore.” Max looked at me with eyes filled with tears and I watched one slip free.
“We can’t?”
“No. Get help, Charlie. Then we can talk. Until then, leave me alone.”
With that, he turned and walked away.