Page 54 of Without You

“What?”

“Give me the drink, please. And maybe we can get a couple more.”

I throw down the now tasteless liquid, and hope it replaces my earlier buzz with numbness. Minutes ago I was happy, and now I’m seconds away from falling apart.

I’m feeling too much, and I’m not emotionally equipped to handle it. I haven’t been for a long time now.

Deacon’s watching me like a hawk, but instead of asking me what’s wrong, he drags the shot glass out of my hand. “Let me get you those shots while you hang out with these guys.” He hooks his thumb behind him. “You’re the man of the hour. Pete is determined to play with nobody else for the rest of the night.”

Appreciative of his sixth sense, I slip my mask on and ease back into the raucous laughter of the group as Deacon leaves with everyone’s drink order.

When he returns, I purposefully keep my distance, plying myself with enough alcohol to know I’m going to regret it tomorrow.

Somehow aware I need the space, Deacon spends his time with Keri, but his eyes track my every move, negating any physical distance between us.

Anthony and Denise get caught up making out with one another, so Pete and I play a few rounds of pool while shooting the shit.

Thankfully, Peter is a talker, and it takes little to no effort to keep the conversation focused on him. In no time I’m aware of where he was born, went to school, and that he recently got out of a five-year relationship because he felt it wasn’t really going anywhere.

“You just get to a place in your life where you want to be moving forward. And she—my ex— didn’t want to move forward,” he explains. “She said ‘later’ to everything I wanted. Moving in, kids, marriage, traveling,” he rattles off, while leaning on the pool cue, waiting for me to take my shot. “If it wasn’t for these guys, Keri especially, I don’t know how I would’ve survived after we broke up. And you know, it wasn’t even heartache in the end. It was the realization that I gave up five years I can never get back to someone who didn’t want them. Life’s too short for that shit, man.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I mutter, as I pull my arm back and forth, the cue pushing the black ball across the table, sinking it into the left corner pocket.

“Fuck, even with all the drinking you’re good at this,” he compliments. “I owe you another round.”

“Sounds good.” Resting on the edge of the table, I finally feel the effects of the alcohol settling in my bones. I’m sluggish, every move feeling heavy and listless. I let my gaze slowly drift over to Deacon.

He’s no longer watching me. He and Keri are huddled up close and deep in conversation. I feel the same wave of jealousy wash over me as earlier. Dragging my eyes away, I eagerly await Peter’s return, needing more alcohol—needing it to release me from this unbearable weight on my chest.

Impatient, I push myself off the table and make my way toward the bar. I barely cover any ground when a carefree Peter rounds the corner, drinks in hand.

“I was just about to send out a search party,” I joke.

“I didn’t realize how busy this place gets. We hardly ever come here.”

“Yeah, I only work weekday nights, and it’s nothing like this,” I tell him, while taking my drink out of his hands.

“You work here?” he questions.

“I didn’t say that?”

He looks at me pointedly. “Come to think of it, I don’t think you’ve said a word all night. Man, I’m sorry.” he shakes his head. “Keri tells me I never let people get a word in edgewise. I’m even worse when I’m drinking.”

Relieved, I clap him on the back. “Don’t sweat it, I don’t have anything that interesting to say anyway.”

It seems this is the moment everybody wants to crawl out of their corners and starts to mill around Peter and I. Deacon moves away from Keri and comes to stand beside me.

Only a smidgen taller than I am, he lowers his head, so his mouth is in line with my ear. “How are you feeling?”

“Is this your new way of asking if I’m okay?” I take a swig of my beer. “I have to tell you, it’s pretty much the exact same thing.”

“Okay,” he drolls. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I wanted to know if you were good to get going?”

“What?” I say surprised. “What about Keri? I thought it was working out.”

He guffaws. “No. Not at all.” He quickly raises the top of his own drink to his mouth, and I can’t help but watch the way his throat moves as he swallows. “She’s not my type.”

I glance over at her and then back at him. I might not be attracted to her, but there’s no way I could deny why other people would be. “She’s notmytype,” I say. “But I’m pretty sure she’s every other guy’s in here.”

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