Page 101 of Collision
“Why did you come here?”
He sighs and straightens his spine. “For this.” He raises his glass. “And these.” he looks at my legs, brushing my right thigh with his knuckles. I wince, ready to move away immediately.
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you drunk?”
“I don’t get drunk, Ness,” he insists with a mocking smile.
“Yeah, sure. How many have you had since you got here?”
“Five or six. No, maybe eight or nine. I lost count… I’ve been here a while.”
“You’re definitely drunk. Let me take you home on the bus, it’ll be for the best.”
“There’s no way I’m leaving my car here. I’d find it stripped to the wheels tomorrow, maybe not even those.” He gestures slowly.
“Are you planning on spending the night in here? I’m warning you, Derek won’t be pleased.”
He pulls his keys out of his jacket pocket and dangles them in the air. “Drive me.”
“Thomas, if I drive you, I’ll miss the midnight bus. The next one doesn’t come until one o’clock. I can’t, I’m sorry. I’ll call you a cab.” I pull out my phone and start dialing, but he blocks my hand.
“I said I won’t leave the car here. Forget it. I’ll get back to campus on my own.” He gets up, wobbling a little, and downs the last bit of Jack Daniel’s before heading for the exit.
“Where are you going? You’re in no condition to drive!” I shout.
He turns toward me just enough for me to see him smirk. “Suppose I’ll have to do it anyway.” He opens the door but then, as if suddenly remembering something, he marches back inside and walks up to me. “F-forgot to pay,” he mumbles. He pulls a couple of bills from the pocket of his jeans and lays them on the table. He folds one, places it between his middle and forefingers and then slips it into my cleavage. “Just the way you like it.” He grins, so pleased with himself that, if he weren’t drunk, I’d gladly slap him in his smug face. But as he can barely stand upright, I take a deep breath and keep my composure.
“You’re completely out of it… Sit down. I’ll take you home,” I order sternly.
He doesn’t object. He does what I tell him and sits down, crossing his arms and resting his head on top of them.
I go back to the bar, thoroughly irritated. I wipe it down one moretime with a damp cloth, take out the garbage and recycling, and put the last of the dirty glasses in the dishwasher. I grab a small bottle of water from the refrigerator and bring it to him.
“Here, pretend it’s Jack Daniel’s. My shift ends in twenty minutes. Then we’re leaving.”
He lifts his head and two shiny, reddened eyes look at me. He slurs something, but I don’t catch half the words.
After counting the cash three times, I put the money in an envelope and scribble the date on the outside before putting it in the safe. I collect my tips and Logan’s box of chocolates, and I head to the changing room downstairs. I try to grab my spare clothes from my backpack but I notice that they are damp. I don’t believe it. I left a water bottle in my bag without checking to make sure it was fully closed. Good thing I didn’t bring any books. I resign myself to the idea that I will have to go home in this damn cheerleading uniform and slip on my jacket. I untie the stupid pigtails and join Thomas at the table.
“Wait here for me, I’m going to throw these away,” I tell him, nodding at the garbage bags I have in my hands.
“I’ll take care of it.” He starts to get up, but I push him back down.
“No way, you can’t even stand up.”
I don’t give him time to answer back before I’m already outside the bar.
The air is cold and biting, though I suppose that being basically half-naked doesn’t help at all. Looking around the Marsy’s parking lot, I see a black SUV. I guess that’s Thomas’s, as it’s the only car left. It looks like it just rolled out of the shop, so shiny and perfect. One thing is certain: if I scratch it up, he would deserve it. I resist the urge, however. I’ve had enough trouble today already.
I duck back inside the bar and signal for him to follow me. “Come on, let’s go.” I want to sound stern, but there’s a softness in my voice that betrays me.
“You leave work dressed like that?” He looks at my uniform with disapproval.
“I don’t have a choice. My change of clothes is in here, and it’ssoaked,” I say, showing him my backpack. With one hand I help him up, but he falters. I put his muscular arm around my shoulder to support him. “You’re so stupid, Thomas.” I shake my head. It’s not just anger that moves me to scold him. The truth is, I don’t like seeing him reduced to such a state.
“Once at a party, I met a pretty okay girl who had more alcohol than blood in her body. When I told her she was stupid, she tried to knock me out with a punch,” he whispers in my ear, bringing back the memory of the night I got wasted at Matt’s frat house.
A hit, a very palpable hit.
