Finally, she gets tired and stops hitting me and just lays there, hanging upside down like a limp noodle.
“You alive, princess?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“You know, you can’t just talk to people like that,” I tell her.
“Why? They say far worse about me behind my back.”
“Liz, you don’t seem like the type who would give a shit about what people say about you behind your back.”
“It just gets old especially when I’m sure that what they’re saying is wrong.”
“That still doesn’t give you the right to talk to them like they’re something you stepped in.”
All my words are met with is a strong silence.
“You know, Liz, just when I think that there’s something decent under your bratty exterior, you prove me wrong.”
“Back at you, buttercup,” she says, poking her finger into my back. “Could you stop swaying so much? My stomach doesn’t feel so good.”
“We are almost to the inn.”
“I don’t need an escort,” she argues.
“Oh, yes you do. I’m worried you’ll burn the whole damn town to the ground.”
“Ha! Don’t tempt me.”
A couple of minutes later, we walk into the inn. I say hi to the girl sitting at the counter and ask which way is Liz’s room.
Liz answers for her, “Up the stairs. All the way at the end of the right hallway.”
It isn’t until we are inside that I set her on her feet.
“You should go to bed,” I tell her.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she quips.
“Whatever. Good night.” I go to leave, but she stops me.
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“You know how we kissed last night?”
I run my hand over my beard. “Yeah, I vaguely remember.”
“What was that about?”
“I don’t know. Alcohol, I guess,” I lie.
“So, you didn’t feel anything?”
In this moment, I could tell her that I did feel something. I could tell her that it took every ounce of willpower I had to walk away from her. But seeing what she was like tonight proved every one of my theories about her correct.
So, instead, I say, “No. I didn’t feel anything at all.”