Page 31 of Keep Me Still
“Thinka case of Natty will be enough?” Skylar asks once we enter the Stop-N-Shop right off campus.
“For me,” I say as we reach the beer coolers. “But what are the rest of you fuckers going to drink?”
Truth is, I probably won’t drink at all. I can barely remember my time in Colorado for how hard I tried to drink Layla Flaherty out of my mind. Danni and her brother Tucker dragged my ass out of the darkness like soldiers might pull a wounded brother from battle. If they hadn’t, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Probably not in college. Not so close to her. Again.
Skylar yanks a case from the cooler and the familiar temptation pulls at me. Maybe Ishouldjust get wasted so I can stop thinking about that look on her face. All the looks. The trusting smile from our first date, the longing in her eyes at Homecoming while she waited for me to man up and make a move, the humiliation that broke across her face when she woke up in the hospital, the way her eyes dimmed when she learned I was leaving, the way she shut down completely before I left. And the worst one of all. The panicked anguish displayed so clearly on her face when she saw me in the arena today. Because she doesn’t want me here.
On second thought, I’m going to be getting trashed after all. Beer’s not going to cut it though.
“Hey, man, you know if there’s a liquor store nearby?” I ask the clerk as he rings us up. The kind of pain losing Layla Flaherty inflicts on a man cannot be soothed with beer. You have to douse it in gasoline, burn it out, retch it up, and let it bang against your skull for days afterwards, just for a distraction. Knowing the whole time that it’ll be back before you have a second to miss it.
“Down on Fifth next to Big Jim’s Pawn,” the old man grumbles. He flicks my ID back at me and I have a feeling he knows it’s a fake but doesn’t really give a shit.
“Thanks,” I say with a nod as he hands me my change.
Fifth is damn near in the ghetto. California is like that, I’m learning. One minute you’re cruising by mansions and stores you can’t even afford to park at, but two wrong turns later you’re in a town they only mention in rap songs.
“Dude, liquor?” Skylar asks as we search for the store.
“It’s necessary,” I inform him.
“Have anything to do with that girl blowing you off at orientation earlier?” He’s too observant for his own damn good.
“Something like that,” I say, licking my lips in anticipation of the burn as the liquor store appears on my left.
I’vealready broken the neck on the bottle of Johnnie Walker when we get to Blackburn’s. The condo is a two-story with a balcony and people are spilling out every which way. The darkness I’m carrying begs me to go back to the dorm and drink alone until I pass out but I’m already here. And Skylar is super pumped about kicking Blackburn’s and Taite’s asses at beer pong. I’ve let enough people down for one lifetime. So I stay. For now at least.
Bass from a song I can’t name off the top of my buzzed head throbs out into the street, pushing against us as we make our way through the crowd.
The kitchen is narrow and several girls brush intentionally against me as I clear a spot for Skylar to put the case down. I clutch my bottle of Johnnie tight because I’m not sharing.
Skylar is busy texting some chick he knows from high school about bringing her hot roommates to meet up with us. I lean against the counter next to a couple too busy inhaling each other’s faces to notice me.
The alcohol puts up a hazy wall around me, separating me from the commotion I’m supposed to be a part of. This isn’t me. I don’t really want this. I want her. My Georgia peach, as Skylar has already started calling her, though he doesn’t know the half of it. Pizza and a movie on my couch with her in my arms would be heaven compared to this—this fake life I couldn’t give a shit about. Class, practice, games, and parties full of faceless randoms that can’t hold a candle to her. It’s going to be a long four years if I have to keep this up.
Yeah, I’m out of here. “Hey, man, you okay if I take off?”
Skylar glances up from his phone. “Aw hell, dude. Kelsie’s roommate is all excited to meet you. What’s the problem, man? You need a hug?” He slips his phone in his pocket and comes at me with arms open wide and his lips puckered. “Come to Papa.”
“Get the hell away from me, dickslice,” I say, shoving him backward.
He frowns at me. “Come on, O’Brien. Don’t be a pussy. So some chick blew you off. There’s probably a dozen or so here who’d probably be happy to blow you off in a way that doesn’t make you all pouty.”
“Fuck you,” I say before putting a deeper dent in my bottle.
“What’s going on, ladies?” Ben Blackburn booms, swiping Johnnie from my hands and taking a swig before handing it back. The kitchen is closing in on me and my vision is slightly blurred.
“I’ve killed guys bigger than you for less,” I damn near growl at him, but he laughs. Maybe I’m losing my edge.
“Don’t piss him off. He’s already trying to bail,” Skylar tells him as a few other guys from the team cram into the obscenely overcrowded kitchen.
“Afraid we’ll kick your ass at beer pong?” Blackburn challenges, backing up to lean against the fridge.
“Yeah, shit keeps me up at night.” I take another mouthful of liquid courage from my bottle and contemplate slamming my fist into his chin for no other reason than he’d hit me back and the pain would be a welcome distraction.
“Let’s get Taite and do this,” Skylar says, stepping between us.
“Taite’s working something right now. Probably best to leave him be. Besides, I can handle you girls all by myself.”
