Page 18 of Running from Drac
Drink this. It will sober you the fuck up. Then go for a ride and clear your head. Remember you don’t have to forget what happened, Son. But try to forgive her.
~ Love Dad~
Fuck! Last night really did happen.
Rubbing my temples, I try to alleviate the monsterheadache attacking my head, and grab the glass from off the desk. It smells rank, and I have no idea what’s in it. Maybe orange juice? Is that raw egg I smell? Hell, it could pretty much be anything. My dad used to be a mixologist when he was younger, the man could cure the common cold with a single glass of brandy if he tried. If this shit is supposed to cure a hangover, it probably fucking does.
Gulping it down, I almost puke just from the taste alone, but somehow manage to drain the glass, burping loudly after it disappears somewhere in my belly. It’s not long before my headache starts to wane.
Thank you, Dad.
Somewhere in my muddled thoughts, I manage to remember to look at my phone. I expect to see at least twenty missed calls from Amber, but there’s not a single one. In fact, I have no missed calls, but I do have a few text messages, but they are all from Pippa.
Pippa: You okay?
Pippa: I still can’t believe she did that to you, Eddie. I’m so sorry.
Pippa: If you need someone to talk to. You know I’m always here for you.
I throw my phone across the bed and rub at my temples again. Pippa’s supposed to be one of my best friends, but she’s also one of Amber’s. How can she sit there and tell me she can’t believe that Amber cheated on me and pretend that she actually cares? It’s her fucking fault this happened in the first place. Going to Vegas sure wasn’t Poppy’s idea, and it definitely wasn’t Amber’s.
Instead of responding, I groggily take my sad ass to the shower and stay in there for a good forty-five minutes, allowing the heated water to soothe my aching bones andfucked up head. The whole time, my brain is only thinking about her…
The way she smiles.
How she laughs.
The feel of her in my arms.
I miss it all, and it’s only been a day since I left her. I wish I could rewind the timeline four days, before she went to Vegas, and do everything all over again. Prove to her, that our relationship is worth fighting for. Hell, if I could go back to that night of the party and reverse ever sleeping with Jinafer, then maybe she wouldn’t have gone to Vegas at all. But neither option is possible. What’s done is done.
My hand fits around the knob to turn off the water, only to be met with horrifying pain that radiates up to my elbow.Fuck!It’s the first time I’ve looked at my hand since last night, and it’s not pretty. There’s an ugly purplish black tint to it, and I can barely move my thumb and pointer finger. It’s probably broken, I should go to a hospital, but I’ve never been a smart man, and instead of getting dressed and heading to get checked out, I grab my dad’s keys and march outside.
I’m not passing up this opportunity, not when my dad is willingly letting me ride Morticia.
The shiny black chrome glints magnificently in the morning sun, almost like Morticia is flashing me her best smile. The fingers of my good hand, feather over the paint job, as adrenaline heats up in my veins. I never feel this way driving the Chevy—never. Just standing next to my dad’s motorcycle has me feeling complete and not so hopeless.
“Hey there, pretty girl, you okay with going for a ride with me today?”
The bike doesn’t respond, but I swear I feel her excitement the second I mount her and rev the engine. My left handthrobs as I fiddle with the clutch, but pushing past the pain is my only option. I need this ride right now.
With great caution, I carefully pull out of the driveway, walking Morticia up to the street so I don’t wreck her before even getting out of the driveway. The second the wheels touch the asphalt, I’m off, the bike purring between my legs as I fight to keep control.
Fuck, I’m rusty, and the possible broken hand isn’t helping.
The bike wobbles, and it takes me forever to figure out how to compensate for my injured hand, but after ten minutes or so, I’m cruising on the open highway, enjoying the wind in my hair, lapping up the freedom just being out there without any walls to cage me in gives me.
It's therapeutic. There’s nothing out here to distract me from my thoughts. And that’s all I do… think. I think about what brought me to this moment, to everything that led up to this day. My mind begins to wander, and I find myself back to the day I first met her—the day I knew she was the one.
Pippa and I had been hanging out for almost two months. I was kinda into her, but wasn’t sure if I wanted to fuck up the friendship thing we had going on. It was nice hanging out with a girl without constantly feeling the need to impress her.
Pippa made shit easy. We could talk all day and nothing ever felt forced. I was definitely attracted to her, and I knew she called me over to look at her car just to get me to come see her. She was always doing shit like that. It’s why I decided that would be the day I officially asked her out on a date. At least give the relationship a shot.
Wesley and Rich both think she’s nothing but trouble, but I was hoping they were wrong. It’s not every day I meet a girl that I just vibe with like her.
After pulling up to her house, I found a foreign car in her driveway, one that I wasn’t used to seeing. Maybe they got a new vehicle?
After knocking, Pippa’s less social twin let me in, but she had her nose shoved so far in whatever book she was reading that she barely acknowledged my existence.
