Page 30 of Inevitable

When I got to Victory Lap, an upbeat sports bar near campus that was always buzzing with energy, a quick scan of the room told me that Dawson hadn't yet arrived. I parked myself at a bench table in the corner out on the patio where a bunch of college kids were drunkenly playing Cornhole. It was a clear, lightly humid night and I hoped the fresh air would help me keep my mind empty of the shit I didn't havethe energy to dwell on.

A few minutes later, Dawson spotted me and made his way over. He was a relatively tall dude standing around six foot flat with tousled brown locks that looked like he constantly ran his hands through it. He had the All-American boy look with his symmetrical nose, plump lips, and Cornflower blue eyes that stood out across a crowd. His most distinctive feature had to be the light smattering of freckles that danced across his face that made him look both youthful and mature in equal measure. The only thing that saved him from baby-face syndrome was the perpetual stubble around his jaw.

Dawson and I had met in our freshman orientation course and clicked right away. He was a legacy on the Longhorn football team since his father and grandfather had both been quarterbacks when they attended the school. He was a down-to-earth, chill guy who took himself too seriously at times, but had a genuinely good heart. He wasn't a big talker, preferring to listen to others than drive the conversation, which made him a damn good sounding board whenever I had a problem.

“Sup, dude. How's it going?” he drawled, plopping down on the bench. We waved a waitress down to order our drinks and food.

“I've had better weeks…”I said dryly, pausing just long enough to tell the young, blond server my order. When she left, my attention returned to Dawson.

“So what gives, B? You've seemed hella distracted lately and been MIA since school started. Now you're randomly texting me on a Friday night for a last minute hang out after weeks of radio silence. You alright, man?” Dawson asked, his thick eyebrows drawing down in concern.

I scrubbed a hand across my face and internally debated whether I wanted to discuss my current problems with him or deflect. “I've just been dealing with some shit. Issues with my dad and Ainsley, and I'm just not handling everything great,” I told him, opting to tell him the partial truth and omit the number one issue causing me the most distress.

“Shit, dude, that sucks. What's been going on exactly?” he inquired with genuine empathy in his tone.

“My dad…he…” I paused, unsure of how to explain the massive shitstorm my dad had unleashed in my life. “He gave me an ultimatum that cost me something really important.”That's putting that shit lightly…fucker cost me the chance to be happy with the man I love.

The intrusive thought sprang to my mind, and I coughed to clear my throat and cover the tears it had triggered.

“Okay…” Dawson slowly said, processing what I had said, “I'm assuming there's no way around the ultimatum at all? No other options to get this…important thing back?” That was one of the best things about Dawson. He didn't pry for details unless absolutely necessary. He valued his privacy and respected it in others.

I scoffed, “No, there's no way around it. My dad is a grade A dick and he…he threatened me with something that I can't risk. But it's fucking killing me, and to top it off I have Ainsley breathing down my neck with no way to fucking get rid of her,” I finished in a frustrated rush of words. Luckily, the waitress had delivered our burgers and pitcher of beer at that moment and I intended on using it to numb the feelings surging inside me as much as possible.

“Uhh, why don't you just dump her then? It's not worth staying in a relationship if all it does is stress you out, dude,” he posed as if I was overlooking the most obvious answer.

“D, don't you think I would if I could? She's part of the fucking deal my dad made with me. Stay with Ainsley and keep in line, or I'm totally screwed.”Or my mom is…

“Jesus, that's some twisted shit…why does he want you with her so badly? It's not like he wants you to marry her for money. Your dad's goddamn loaded already, right?”

I huffed out an irritated puff of air, not at Dawson's legitimate questions, but rather the entire mess that I had fallen into like pernicious quicksand. I determined that it was easier to just come clean to Dawson about the whole, appalling exchange with my father a few weeks ago, only leaving out the part that concerned Micah.

When I was done regaling him with the sordid tale, Dawson looked at me like I had slapped his mama, stunned into silence and anger simmering. “What the shit, man? How twisted is your dad? I mean, for real, that dude is fucked twenty ways to Sunday threatening his own wife and son like that. Like…I don't even…what…damn it, I can't even get words out for that shit,” he stuttered out, his outrage for me making me feel validated and understood like I hadn't in weeks since my dad's phone call.

“Yep…my thoughts exactly,” I murmured, chugging down the second beer I'd had in under half an hour.

“Why doesn't your mom divorce his ass? I mean, does she know that he's like that or does he keep it hidden from her?” he asked.

“I don't think she realizes just how bad he is. Also divorcing him would probably cause her more problems in the long run. She's never worked a real job since they married young, and she's constantly dealing with her depressive episodes. I think she's too reliant on mydad, which means she's basically at his mercy.” My head was beginning to feel fuzzy from the alcohol, but it prevented my mind from straying to Micah's night out, so I leaned into it.

“I get it…but fuck, that sucks,” he lamented for me. It honestly felt good to get everything off my chest, and I was feeling a little lighter now. Of course, that could have just been the booze.

After I had plowed my way through four beers and a couple of tequila shots that I had insisted on getting despite Dawson's worry, he helped me stumble to my feet and called an Uber to take us to my place. “Man, I don't know why you wanted to call a ride for us. My place is…just…that direction and it's short-ish,” I slurred, a little unsteady as we climbed into the car.

“B, I love you and all, but I'm in no mood to carry your drunk ass home. Sit down, shut up, and we'll be there in a few,” Dawson grumbled, most likely annoyed at what our night devolved into.

When we reached my building, he grabbed my keys and helped me inside, maneuvering me to the couch where I promptly flopped down and slammed my head back against the cushion. The alcohol swimming in my veins reminded me of the night of the UNT party where I had held Micah in my arms while we danced, holding him close and whispering in his ear.

I remembered what it felt like to kiss those plush, delicious lips of his and swallow his moans like a sweet wine. If I let go enough, I could almost feel his hands on my body, the hard planes of his chest pressed to mine as we ground together, igniting each other in an inferno of lust.

My Micah…God, I fucking miss him so much…I wish he was here…

“Micah? Isn't that your friend you're always talking about?”

Fuck.Through my murky, drunken haze, I registered Dawson's words as he stood in front of me. I then realized that I had said that last part out loud and he heard every word.Alcohol: harbinger of fucked up decisions and monumental messes. Oh well…I'm too wasted to care…

“I'm in love with Micah. I fell for my best friend and now I've lost him,” I slurred, barely able to get the words out coherently.

“Shit…so is that why your dad really threatened you and wants you with Ainsley? He doesn't want you hooking up with a guy?” Dawson asked in sympathy. I didn't notice any disgust or judgment coming from his voice, but I wasn't surprised. Dawson was good people.

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