60 Rhys
60
Rhys
We were on the patio, each of us with a Coke in our hand. I could smell the sea breeze, which was blowing on us lightly. There were no sounds but crickets from far away. Ginger had barely said a word since we left the club. I sighed. I stretched my legs out and rested them on the edge of her chair, grazing her. For almost the first time since we’d met, I didn’t know what her expression meant, what was going through her head.
“Ginger…” I whispered.
“You never told me.”
“Yeah. Because it doesn’t matter.”
“It does. You do drugs.”
“Everyone does. It’s…”
“It’s what?” she asked.
“It’s normal, Ginger. It is.”
“Rhys, please…”
She got up, but I caught her before she could leave and pulled her into my lap. I pushed her hair out of her face, nervous, hating to see her scowl, hating the disappointment on her face.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t do it, but in this environment…this world…” I shook my head. “I won’t make excuses. I didn’t want you to ever find out, because I didn’t want…this. I didn’t want you to look at me the way you are now.”
Ginger wrapped her arms around my neck. “For a moment, Rhys, I felt like I didn’t know you.”
“Shit. Don’t say that. Because if you don’t know me, then who does?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t say anything. And that silence, that sudden emptiness, scared me.