Page 114 of Infatuated as They Come
She said it like it was the most casual thing in the world. Like she just bought some fucking soda from the grocery store or something.
I closed my eyes, trying to let her words settle there in my head. “I leave you alone for a couple hours and youbuy an apartment?”
“It was so cheap. It was a bargain.”
“Christ, okay,” I muttered, hands scraping over my face. “We’ll deal with that later. Time to go home now.”
Reaching down, she unbuckled the belt. “I don’t wanna go.”
“You wanna stay here all night and buy more expensive stuff?” I clicked the belt back into place.
“No, I mean I don’t wanna go home. I wanna go somewhere with you. I never see you anymore. You’re my favorite person to see. Did you know that? We should go some place where it’s just us.”
“That sounds nice, baby,” I said, buckling her belt back in. “You’re myfavorite person to see too, and later, I’ll take you wherever you wanna go, but right now, you need to get some rest.”
Taking a small step back, I took a look at Holly. She just stared at me with her big, tired eyes, blinking slowly. I wondered how much she had to drink and another wave of guilt slammed into me at the thought of her sitting at that bar all alone and upset, just waiting, waiting, waiting—only for me to show up over an hour late.
I shut the door, quickly hopping into the driver’s seat, more than ready to put the country club behind us. My eyes flickered over to Holly, taking in her half knocked out form. Her eyes were closed and she was letting out soft, little breaths. She was sleeping away now, her eyes shut tight. Her parents were gonna kill me, but I deserved that for how I had been acting lately. I really hadn’t been ignoring her on purpose, but my chest felt heavy knowing that I had been the reason for her pain. She was feeling ignored and alone and it was all because of me.
When we stopped at a red light, I let my fingers gently stroke at her cheek. The one without the bruise. I winced as I observed the mark on her face that seemed even darker than when we were back in the club.
I kept thinking about that stupid fight we had earlier. She was right: she didn’t even want to go to the damn country club, but there I was forcing her, and I still managed to not show up on time. I was lucky she stayed there at all waiting for me. I had fallen back into my old habit of never seeing her, never being there for her, and all because I wanted to give her a nice gift for Christmas. Now none of that even seemed worth it, because as I sat there with my hand on her thigh, I kept wondering when the last time was that I got to see her smile in New York. Why was I so good at fucking things up? Fucking up the best thing that ever happened to me? Our first Christmas together and I had already messed it up. I wanted to be her shield, to keep any and all bad things away from her, but I just kept on making mistakes.
It was a couple more minutes into the drive back to Holly’s house when I heard it. The unmissable sound of sirens. And then I saw the distinct glow of red and blue lights coming up right behind me, and I knew I wasfucked. It had been a while since I had a run in with cops, but that was usually for dumb, petty shit. Stuff I had stolen or the fights I had gotten into, but having a drunk, passed out girl in my car was a new one.
Pulling over, I turned to look at a still unconscious Holly. “Baby, now would be a great time for you to wake up completely sober,” I said.
My hands squeezed at the wheel, fingers tapping against the rubber as my eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror. It was just one cop. I could already see the beam of his flashlight in his hand as he approached the truck. I knew the drill as I rolled down the window, the crisp night air flying right into the car.
The sound of heavy boots on gravel got louder and louder before I heard someone clear their throat to my side. Turning, I was met with the blinding glow of the cop’s flashlight. Those things got fucking brighter every year.
“That’s a nice car you got there,” he said. “What is it? Late 60s?”
“Something like that,” I said, squinting at the name on his badge, the metal shiny against the dark navy of his uniform. E. Fowler. The name rung a bell.
“Who’s your friend?” He aimed the flashlight at Holly. It didn’t wake her up; she didn’t stir, and part of me was pissed off that he wasn’t letting her get the rest she needed. “Is she asleep? Or is it something else?”
My brows furrowed. “Something else?”
“She’s not waking up.”
“I know. She’s a heavy sleeper.” I wasn’t about to rat on Holly to a fucking cop about how she had been drinking. “She’s just—”
“Is that Joe Sutton’s daughter?”
Oh, I wasn’t just fucked. I wasfuckedfucked. “I’m just tryna get her home,” I finally said. “If you just—”
“Wait, what’d you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.”
Fowler’s eyes narrowed, like he was searching for something, but I had a feeling he already knew the answer. “Westbrook, right?”
“That’s right.” I couldn’t place the cop’s face. I had dealt with so many that they all blended in together.
Fowler grinned at me. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around town. Last time I had you in the back of my car you just got into a pretty bad fight. How was juvie?”
“Great.” I forced a smile his way. “Learned a lot. Am I free to go now?”
