Page 97 of The Season
Another cluster of instructors stumble in through the door, wiping snowy boots, exclaiming loudly about “what a sick place this is’,” bottles clattering in bags as they shed layers in the hallway and make their way inside. I should probably get up and say hi. Talk to people. Socialize.
Instead, I take another long drink of my bourbon and cola, ice cubes clinking against my lips as I drain the last of it. I sigh, staring down at the empty glass forlornly, then glance up hopefully to where Tom is mixing a drink for Tessa and Lily in the kitchen. Maybe I can get him to make me one, too.
There’s a big archway that separates the kitchen from the living room, and I can just make out the back of Tom’s shoulders, cups and bottles lined up on the bench in front of him. He nods and smiles at whatever the person next to him says, his attention fixed on what he’s doing. Not particularly promising for getting his attention, but I’m sure if I stare at him long enough, he’ll eventually notice me. Plus, he has to walk past me to deliver Tessa and Lily their drinks.
I tap one finger against the rim of my glass, pursing my lips thoughtfully. I don’t think he’s ever made Lily a drink at home before. But I guess he’s wanting to impress Tessa, and couldn’t exactly offer to make her one without offering Lily too.
I cast a quick glance at Jason. He might be quiet, but he’s built like a brick shithouse. I personally wouldn’t be doing anything to piss him off. I mean, sure, I’ve probably flirted with Tessa in front of him, but nobody ever takes me seriously, so it’s fine. I can’t imagine Jason would give Tom—some random Yank—the same leeway.
When I look back at Tom, he’s pulling a small plastic bag from his pocket. It’s too far away to see what’s inside, and it’s out of view again so quickly, that I almost think I’ve imagined it. Still, my heart hammers at the sight of it, a strange whooshing in my ears, a tightening in my stomach. His hand slips back into his pocket again, and then he’s turning around, one drink fisted in his hand, a shit-eating grin plastered to his face.
“You need something?” he asks, pausing with the drink in hand in front of me.
I stare at the drink. It’s pretty, actually. Layers of color in a tall glass, even the sprig of some plant and a lemon rind in there. Like something you’d get at a cocktail bar.
“You wanna make me something too?” I give him a winning smile, but something strange is twisting in my gut. I nod at the drink. “Or you could just give me that?”
He pulls the cocktail against his chest, his face going pale. “Sure. I can make you one next. This one is for Lily.”
“Not Tessa?” I ask, my gaze flicking to Jason to gauge his reaction at hearing his girlfriend’s name. Sure enough, he sits up like a gopher, pale eyes fixed on Tom with silent intensity.
Tom’s cheeks flush, and he licks his lips, glancing nervously at Jason. “Shit. I forgot her drink. I’ll make her one next.” He gives Jason what he probably thinks is a friendly smile, but it looks more like the grimace of a man about to shit his pants in fear. “I… I can make you one too,” Tom squeaks.
Jason frowns, eyeing the drink Tom is holding with confusion. “Why the fuck would I want to drink some girly drink?” His accent is so thick, I can practically taste the red dust of his homeland in the air. “But yah. You can make a drink like that for my missus. The girl likes that crap.” He gives what could almost be described as a soft smile, then takes a long swig of his beer, likely in an attempt to stifle any show of emotion.
My lips quirk, but any amusement I feel quickly turns to ice when I see Tom heading to the little side room where the girls are dancing, my stomach sinking when he disappears inside.
For a long moment, I stare at the black doorway, at the flashes of lights and color from within. I stare, sitting on the edge of the couch, although I’m not quite sure what I’m waiting for. But then, a moment later, Tom is traipsing out, giving me and Jason a nod before trotting back over to his makeshift cocktail station in the kitchen.
I sit back with a sigh, shaking my head. Lily is fine. She’s dancing with Tessa. I’m not sure what I saw, but it couldn’t have been anything. Tom wouldn’t be stupid enough to put anything in Lily’s drink. Not here, not with all of us around.
I’m just imagining things. It’s just Lily getting under my skin like always.
Like the other day, after she nearly killed us all with her terrible driving, and all I wanted to do was wrap her up in my arms, reassure her. Or when she kissed me, tasting like the whiskey I’d given her and shivering against me in the cold, her ridiculous shoes slipping on the ice. I’d almost given her my coat and I couldn’t relax until I’d fixed the tread on her shoes.
I stare at my empty glass, at the ice cubes melting at the bottom, and remember the sound of her laughter as we rode backcountry together.
Was it only two weeks ago? It seems like a lifetime ago now.
“Well, I sure as shit wouldn’t be hiring him to be a bartender at my pub,” Jason comments dryly, drawing my attention back to him. He lifts his beer in the direction of the kitchen, to where Tom’s bottles are lined up, a cocktail half-made beside them.
There’s no sign of Tom.
“You know I’m opening up a pub back home, right?” he asks. “In the ’Stralian winter season…”
Jason’s words fade to a hum against the pounding in my ears and I swallow, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. I stand up, my empty glass falling to the floor, my heart hammering in my chest.
Where is Tom? Where the fuck is Tom?
“You all right, mate?” Jason asks.
I don’t reply. I’m stumbling forward, my eyes scanning the dimly lit living room, the bright kitchen. I duck into the room where Lily and Tessa were dancing, wincing when a strobe light flashes directly into my retinas.
“Eddie!” Tessa calls out, grinning. “You here to dance with us?”
I shake my head, giving her a smile so thin, it feels like it might crack, like the sheets of ice on the asphalt of the parking lot in the morning. “I’m looking for Lily.”
Tessa looks around, stumbling a little on her high heels, then shakes her head. “I think she went to the bathroom?” she says, then winces. “Sorry. I don’t really know. She was just here a minute ago.”
