Page 117 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
Back at the house, I grab a glass from the kitchen and pour two fingers of whiskey. Then I think better of it and pour more. I'm not measuring, not being careful, not doing any of the things responsible Cole Richardson would do.
I sit on the couch and down the first shot. It burns going down, sharp and cleansing.
One shot for Harper not being home. One shot for her clothes missing from the closet.
I pour another.
One shot for her telling me she needs space. One shot for those three words that feel like a death sentence.
Another pour. My hands are steadier now, the alcohol working its way through my system.
One shot for Liam's dirty gut punch in the hallway, for whatever poison he whispered in Harper's ear that made her look at me differently.
The glass fills again.
One shot for the fight. For losing control in front of everyone. For proving that maybe I'm not as put-together as I pretend to be.
Another.
One shot for the look on Harper's face when she left the party. Like she couldn't get away from me fast enough.
And another.
One shot for the townhouse that feels like a tomb without her in it.
I lose count. The room is starting to blur at the edges, my thoughts growing fuzzy and disconnected. Rex has given up trying to get my attention and is curled up on his bed in the corner, occasionally lifting his head to check if I'm okay.
I'm not okay.
My phone is in my hand before I consciously decide to pick it up. I scroll to Liam's contact, my fingers clumsy on the screen.
It rings once. Twice. Three times.
Voicemail.
The beep sounds, and then I'm talking, words spilling out in a rush.
"Liam. It's me. Cole. Obviously you know that because caller ID. I'm..." I laugh, but it sounds wrong. "I'm drunk. Not as drunk as you were that night but getting there. Harper's gone. She left. Took her stuff and just... left. Because of us. Because I couldn't keep my shit together. Because you said something to her and I don't even know what it was, but it worked, man. It worked."
I take another shot, the whiskey sloshing over the rim.
"I fucked everything up. Our friendship, Harper. Everything I touch turns to shit. You know what's funny? You said I got everything you wanted but look at me now. I've got nothing. Empty house, girlfriend who can't even talk to me, best friend who hates my guts. So congrats, I guess. You win."
My voice cracks.
"I just... I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to make it right. I'm sitting here alone, and everything reminds me of her and I can't breathe, Liam. I can't fucking breathe without her."
Silence.
"I'm sorry. For everything. For falling for her, for not handling it better, for fighting you at practice and at the party. For being a shitty friend. I'm sorry."
The line beeps again, cutting me off. Message too long.
I set the phone down and pour another shot, but my hand is shaking so badly that half of it spills on the coffee table. I don't bother cleaning it up.
Rex whines from his bed.
"She's coming back," I tell him again, but this time I don't even convince myself.
