Chapter 20 #3
“Shots?” a guy on my left asked, balancing half a dozen shot glasses filled with cherry-colored liquor on a tray.
His offer felt to be a sign that I should allow Melinda some time to think before I went after her.
“Why not?” I had already screwed up everything so far tonight, so it couldn’t get worse.
Anyway, I needed to kill the anxiety surging inside me with something or else I’d go crazy.
Without hesitation, I grabbed two shots and gulped them down.
“Thanks.” And before I changed my mind, I took three more and downed them as fast. I wasn’t used to drinking during football season, and the alcohol made its way to my brain in no time.
Getting wasted wasn’t the solution to my problems, but right now it sounded like a great alternative to patch the hole in my heart.
I had done nothing wrong, but Paige was right.
From an outsider’s point of view, sitting with Sarah nestled against me, our heads touching and my arm around her, must have looked bad. No wonder Melinda was upset with me.
I reached the kitchen and poured myself a hefty amount of whiskey from one of the bottles on the countertop and knocked it back in two swallows. I was more of a beer guy, but liquor seemed like a faster road to Waste Town right now.
“What are you doing?” Craig asked, removing the empty cup from my grip and discarding it on the kitchen island that was already trashed with beer cans, empty bottles, and crushed cups. “You never drink until the season is over. Don’t start now.”
“I-I fuuucked up.” I blinked, my brain not in sync with my mouth and my thoughts. “Mel… I screwed it all up. She hates my guttts now. She left… She-she doesn’t want any…anything to do with me tonight.”
“Mase, don’t.”
I stabbed his chest with a finger. “I didn’t fuuuck Sarah Beaufort.
I didn’t even kisss her. And I didn’t want to.
It was just…just football.” I buried my face in my hands, tears prickling the back of my eyes.
“We were…we were just watching ga-games. Her brother…he…he plays for Crestwood U. Mel thinks… She probably thinks I’ve been with her.
And then Tan. She stoppped me when I was chasing after Mel.
And then Bellla. She said th-things. It’s…
dammmit…it’s complicated. Now, Mel will hate meeee forever.
Pouf. Gone are my chances with her. She left.
I-I…I don’t remember whaaat I was saying just now.
And I’m…I’m plastered. Shit. Why am I…?”
“Why are you what?”
A somber chuckle passed my lips. “Nooo idea, brother. I’m going… I’m going home nowww. Before I do something else thaaat I’ll regret.”
He shook his head, and I hated the expression he cast on me. Like I was a stupid asshole, someone he pitied. I couldn’t tell. I hated pity.
I closed my eyes and massaged my temples with my fingers. “Out of here.”
“I’ll give you a ride. Let me tell Paige. I’ll be back in a few. Don’t go anywhere. Wait for me outside.”
I did a military salute. “Yesssir.”
He opened his palm. “Keys.”
I sighed and fished the set out of my pocket and handed it to him.
“Good. I’ll join you in a bit.”
After what felt like hours, my brother met me outside as I sat on the front porch steps and tossed me the letterman jacket that I had probably left by the poker table. My reflexes were off because I failed at catching it. “Come on. Paige and I will drive your car home later.”
For the twelve minutes the ride lasted, we both remained silent. My heart sank down to my heels, and my hopes were long gone.
The car stopped in front of our house, and I climbed out. Before I slammed the door behind me, Craig’s voice boomed in the dark, and I turned to face him. “Explain yourself, Mase. Tell her the truth. Mel is a smart girl. She’ll listen.”
“I tried. She stilll left.”
“Give her some time. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can be mended.”
I rubbed a fist over my prickling eyes. “You think?”
He nodded. “I do. Go to bed and sober up. Tomorrow, you go over there”—he pointed to the house next door with his chin—“and you fix the mess.”
I stood in the driveway, watching his car pull away, the taillights retreating in the darkness enveloping me, when an idea hit me.
Yes, I could fix the Melinda situation. I had to or else I’d be miserable for the rest of time.
Rushing to my backyard to avoid triggering the motion-sensor light by the Shepards’ driveway, I walked to the wooden fence separating both our properties. Maybe I could attempt to jump over it in my drunken state without breaking my spine—or maybe not. Anyway, Melinda Shepard was worth the risk.
I rolled my shoulders back and squinted, trying to gauge the height of the fence, because for the life of me, right now, I couldn’t remember. I took a few steps back to gain momentum and ran forward, unconvinced I could jump over it.
Airborne, I flapped my arms and legs, realizing I should have just climbed the damn thing instead of trying to leap over it. I hit a wooden post with my left foot and tumbled forward, face-first.
Oh no. Please don’t let me hit my right shoulder again.