Page 63 of Always You

“Yeah, of course. Just let me know when you wanna leave.” I don’t wait for her reaction, walking straight back to the rest of the boys. I have no right to be mad, disappointed, or act like an asshole. Still, I can stop the agitated feeling forming inside of me, and I ball my fists.

I ended up at Charlotte’s doorstep because I needed her when my mom decided to fuck me up in the head. I need her to pick me back up, and tell me I’m not a little shit like my mother keeps mentioning. That I’m useless, or I won’t ever get out of this shit town. I know my drunk mother is full of shit, but still, I have this nagging voice in my head that tells me she’s right. That I’m doomed to spend my days out here, not getting any further than a shit job in Raleigh. It’s feeding my insecurity every time she rants against me.

But Charlotte?

Charlotte makes me forget.

She builds me up, just being with me, existing beside me, comforting me without saying a word. I need her.Just her.And I was stupid enough to suggest coming here for no fucking reason. Now, there’s this urge to drive my fist into something, proving my mother she’s right.

I am a piece of shit.

I push myself up to take a seat on the tailgate of the truck we’re standing next to, and I reach my hand out to Jason, standing next to the cooler. The skin on my body feels tight, making it hard for me to breathe as I glance at the two girls again.

“Yo, can you hand me a beer?”

Jason hesitates with a frown, pissing me off even more. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I bark out.

“Sure? Because you usually don’t drink.”

“I do now.” My dark glare silently tells him to fuck off.

There’s a stunned flutter of his lashes, challenging me with a single look, but I can’t fucking find the fucks to give right now. I need to stop feeling, before I do something that I’ll regret.

“We’ve been friends for years, and all the times you had a drink is countable on one hand. What’s going, Hunter?”

“Just give me the damn beer, Jay.”

“Alright.” He rolls his eyes as he grabs a beer, twisting the cap with a lighter, then hands it to me.

“Thanks.”

“You gonna be alright, man?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

I shoot him a fake smile, taking a pull from my beer. The hoppy flavor attacks my taste buds like it did when I drank for the first time, but I ignore it, just chasing the effect of the alcohol.

“Peachy.”

There’s one thing my mom taught me.

Alcohol is bad.

Showing me all the bad things that come from alcohol made it easy for me not to drink. I’m a bad boy. I’ll kick your ass if you challenge me, in and out of the cage. I ditch school if I get the chance, and I’m graduating, but onlybarely.

But you wouldn’t ever catch me drunk.

Until tonight.

Having zero tolerance, I’m feeling wasted as fuck after six beers and a couple of shots, entertaining everyone with my fast comments.

Everyone except Charlotte.

And Julie, who keeps looking at me like she wants to rip my head off and put it on a stick.

The twilight is setting in, and we’re all sitting on big logs around the firepit. I failed to keep up with the conversation for the last, who knows how many minutes, so instead I focus my heavy lashes on the blonde sitting in my lap. She smells so sweet it’s disgusting, and every now and then, I squint my eyes, wondering how much of her face is real and how much comes from a bottle.

She’s hot.

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