Page 46 of Without You

“So…?”

I search my mind for the lie. “Normal.”

“Normal’s good isn’t it?” He subtly lowers his eyes and begins picking at the wet beer label. “One step closer to civil.”

“And what comes after civil?”

“Friends?” he suggests. “You don’t mind having one more, do you?”

He raises his head, his blue eyes cautious, waiting for an answer that means more between the two of us than any other people in this world.

“I don’t really have any,” I confess. “I guess one can’t hurt.”

His face shifts from apprehensive to sympathetic, and I hate seeing that look on his face. Especially aimed at me.

“God,” I nervously chuckle. “That sounds even more pathetic out loud.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he says, his voice low and scratchy.

I square my shoulders, my voice stern. “You don’t need to make me feel better.”

“I’m not.” He shakes his head vehemently. “You think nobody noticed how much you gave up for my brother? A lot more than I ever did,” he adds, regret and pain evident in his voice. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “It was a no brainer.”

“At the time, yes, but now?” he challenges.

“Is this what being friends with you is like?” I ask, avoiding his gaze and picking at my fingernails. “Acknowledging all the ways I’m lacking?”

I hear him expel a long breath of air, and I feel his body moving toward me. I let myself lean in to meet him, searching for that sandalwood smell that surrounds him. “You’re not lacking anything.”

The words come out as more of a realization than a compliment, but the small distance between us says otherwise.

Ray’s curious and not-so-subtle voice interrupts us. “I see you two made up.”

I’m the first one to pull away, righting myself on the stool. “Can you please get us another round of shots?” I mumble quickly.

“Coming right up,” he supplies, a smug smirk aimed our way.

“Are you sure?” Deacon asks as Ray leaves.

“Yes.” I gesture behind me. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

Deacon nods and I shoot off the stool, wasting no time fleeing. Except I don’t anticipate the effects of the alcohol and I feel myself sway.

Chuckling, Deacon wraps his hand around my wrist to steady me. “How about I ask Ray for some water too?”

I turn my head to hide the flush I can feel creeping up into my cheeks and drag my hand out of his hold. “I’ll be right back,” I mutter.

Concentrating on every step, I slowly and carefully walk myself to the bathroom. Not really needing to use it, I stand in front of the mirror and switch on the tap. I splash the cold water on my face, and rub my now cool hands across the nape of my neck, hoping it will help me regain my footing.

Physically.

Emotionally.

I feel so off my game, but I don’t know if it’s because I really haven’t gone out at night in over two years, or because of Deacon. I don’t even know myself right now, and standing here, hiding out in the bathroom, I can’t even tell you the last time I did.

Grabbing a wad of paper towels, I dab my face and my neck, ensuring I don’t walk out of here looking like a hot, sweaty mess.

---