Page 44 of Something Forever

It’s not like this day can get any worse, so I might as well start drinking. I cross the kitchen to the freezer and take out my trusty bottle of Casamigos. A constant source of comfort for me in times of need.

Time to get drunk and wallow in self-pity.

18

LIAM

It’s a Friday evening and my first night off in forever when I come home and find Whitney in the kitchen with a bottle of tequila in front of her. She’s got her head resting on her arms, and Adele is blasting from the speakers.

“Hey,” I say, crossing the room towards her. “You know it’s only six o’clock?”

She lifts her head. “And?”

I shrug, dropping my shoulder bag on the floor and sitting in the stool beside her. “Nothing. Just wondering why you’re getting pissed this early in the day.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve had two shots.”

I bump her shoulder. “Adele and tequila shots? I may be an idiot, but even I can tell that’s a bad sign. Plus, you’ve got raccoon eyes.”

I point to her makeup, and she wipes under her eyes with a sigh. “Can you not be mean to me tonight? Okay? I just can’t handle it. Not tonight.” She sighs, laying her head back onto the counter.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I wasn’t trying to be… mean. I was just kidding.” I guess I thought since Vegas and our recent evenings together, we’d reached a sort of understanding. I thought she’d forgiven me. Does she still think I’m an arsehole?

“Ugh. Ignore me,” she says. “I am kind of drunk.”

“Do you want to… talk about it?” I stand and cross the kitchen to the cabinet, grabbing another shot glass and setting it next to hers on the counter.

“No. Yes. Maybe.” She groans and lifts her head again, and I pour us both a shot of tequila. “Basically, I had a crap conversation with my mother, which may be the only conversation we have this year since she’s dust in the wind at this point.”

“I’m sorry.”

She raises her eyebrows at me, then smirks. “Alright, don’t be too nice or I’ll think something weird is going on.”

Fuck, she looks good two drinks deep. Her eyes aren’t quite glazed over, but there’s a sort of haziness there. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was flirting with me.

“I’m always nice,” I reply with a smirk.

She laughs. “When have you ever been nice?”

“I took you to dinner and a show. I play Scrabble with you.” I raise my shot glass, waiting for her. “And I don’t let you drink alone.”

She bites her lip, and fuck me she looks sexy.

She lifts her glass to meet mine, then stops. “Wait! Get the limes. I’ll get the salt. Let’s do this right.”

I slice up a lime, and we prepare our shots properly, pouring salt onto the back of our hands. Then she links our arms, lifts our glasses, and winks at me.

“To fucking it up.” She smirks.

“Hear-hear.”

The liquid burns going down. I pour us both another shot and slice up the lime, glancing at Whitney’s drooping form. She looks like Eeyore finding out that Pooh Bear isn’t coming home for Christmas this year.

Wow, what a pair we are.

I slap my hands against the counter, jolting her. “Listen, let’s not mope about here. Why don’t we go out?”

She lifts her head, narrowing her eyes at me. “Where?”

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