Page 48 of Sweet Little Lies
As it so happens, he doesn’t let go of me the entire night. In between introducing me to his friends, grabbing us drinks or just joking with the group, his hands are on me. They’re either wrapped around me as I stand in front of him, over my shoulder hugging me into the curve of his side or on my lower back as he leads me around. And I soak it up like a sponge.
We’ve been here for the past two hours and it’s not like I’m counting, but he’s had a lot to drink. I stopped at one – mainly because I’m underage still, even though the bartender didn’t even bother to check my ID – but also because I knew I’d be driving us home tonight. That’s kind of a given when Lance goes out to have a good time.
I’m used to his partying behavior. The first three or four times I saw him after our official first introduction, he was always wasted. Drunk on booze or stoned on weed. No one ever seemed to comment on it, it was just ‘how he is,’ so I didn’t think it was my place to ever say anything. With the exception of a few times he got really out of control, he was always a happy-go-lucky drunk, laughing too loud or hugging people or joking around -and seemed in control of things mostly.
The only time I heard anything to the contrary was when Ainsley said she’d sleep over at Cade’s and she knew Lance would get pass out drunk or drink until he’d puke his guts out and then be hungover the next day.
My body has never been tolerant of alcohol, so I really don’t drink much because I don’t enjoy the feeling it gives or how it makes me feel woozy. I’ve never even been drunk, which Lance thinks is hilarious. As for weed, I’ve tried it once. Took two hits (because that’s what my brother told me to do to ensure I got a good buzz) and hated the weird floaty, time-warped sensation I got from it.
But I’m not a goodie-two-shoes or a narc, either. It doesn’t bother me when others drink. Witnessing Lance over the last year when at parties together, he likes to have a good time by letting loose. I’m not going to judge him for that. We’re in college, for heavens’ sake. He becomes the life of the party when he’s drunk and everybody loves him.
The only concern I have is that when Lance does stupid shit and goes too far. It scares the crap out of me because I never know what to expect. Or what he’ll do or how far he’ll go.
As I watch him drink another beer, after the two shots of Jameson he’s already had with Alex and a guy named Coffer, I worry that tonight might not end up the way I’d imagined. And it makes me sad.
I want him to have a good time. And it’s not like he’s ignoring me or being rude and hitting on other girls or anything, but I just see him slipping away moment by moment. Drink after drink.
“How’s my beautiful girl doing? Having a good time?” he slurs, his body swaying a little to the left until he grabs the table to hold himself up.
I nod, my smile not quite meeting my eyes. “Yeah, sure. Your friends are nice.”
Mostly that’s the truth. There is one guy, Dodi, that gives me the creeps. He’s slimy and it oozes off him. I’ve seen him back in the corner of the bar sitting in a booth, people coming and going from his table. It looks like some sort of transactional business is taking place, but I don’t see any exchange of product anything. It’s probably my over active imagination, but at one point I caught him staring at me.
Not in the usual way a guy will stare at a girl. Not with longing. But with outright contempt.
I shook it off and returned to the conversation we were having with Alex about his reasons for enlisting, but the feeling remained and my intuition told me he was bad news.
“They’re good guys. My buddies. They were there for me all those years, especially after…”
Lance stops short of saying anything more, so I squeeze his hand that’s wrapped around mine hoping it’ll keep him talking. But he doesn’t say more, instead gestures to the waitress who passes by with the beer in his hand for another one.
I’m about to lean up on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear that I think it’s time to get out of here when one of the guys comes waltzing over and grabs Lance’s attention.
“Dog, your dad’s here.”
And then everything changes. The hand that holds mine goes suddenly cold and stiff and then he just drops it to his side. He polishes off his beer – half a pint – in one swallow and an angry scowl forms across his mouth where the once happy, quirky smile had been previously.
“Fuck.” Is all he says and I’m reeling from the severe attitude change.
It’s like the room’s altitude pressure has changed as if we were in a descending plane. There’s still noise and celebratory laughter, but a cloud of hostility has swept over the room, concentrated over Lance.
“I need something stronger to drink. Come with me to the bar.”
He pulls my hand and we maneuver through the crowd.
I’m in the dark. I don’t know anything about Lance and his dad. He’s never once mentioned him to me and I’m not one to pry so I haven’t asked. But it’s pretty obvious by the way he’s acting that he isn’t happy to learn his dad is here.
The bar is crowded, but people make room for us as we belly up to it. Lance doesn’t look at me, he just stares down at his hands as if they offer the answers to whatever he’s thinking about.
Placing my hand on the center of his back, I stroke it cautiously, carefully observing his movements. He’s so edgy that he ripples with tension. I’ve never seen him act like this. Like he’s walking on a tight wire above a pool of sharks.
I’m careful with my words. “How about taking me home? Doing what you promised to do earlier.”
Whatever is between he and his dad, I don’t want to get in the middle of it. All I want is for Lance to take me home so he’s away from this environment. It’s obvious it’s not a good place for him right now.
Lance slowly turns his head toward me but I don’t see the guy I normally see. The cocky, funny, sexy man I’ve fallen for.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
