take my best girl out to dinner,” Dad boomed into the speaker of the phone, and I winced at the loud sound. He was taking full advantage of my pounding head, likely trying to highlight the consequences of hitting the bottle too hard so that I didn’t go down the same path as him.
“Okay,” I choked out. My body wanted to hide under the covers, but I was excited to see Dad again. I could stomach feeling miserable for a dinner date with him.
“Pick you up in two hours. I got a car!” he exclaimed excitedly.
“Can’t wait to see it and hound you for running stoplights,” I replied in good humor. “See you soon! Love you.”
“Love you too, kid.” We hung up, and I clutched my phone to my chest. Despite feeling like hell, I was excited to see Dad again. It felt nice to find some normalcy in our relationship.
I stretched my hands high above my head, releasing the built-up tension in my spine. I then rolled my neck, listening to the greedy pops as my bones settled. My stomach sloshed from the alcohol still moving around in it. What day was it? Thursday? I was undoubtedly going to get in trouble for cutting class two days in a row. I didn’t even want to think about all the homework I needed to catch up on.
I turned to look at my nightstand and smiled when I saw a sheet of paper there. Grabbing it, I read the impatiently scrawled words in a reckless script.
Told the school you have the flu. You owe me a truth. Drink some damn water. Lance comes home tonight. Decker
My heart swelled as I tried to run through everything that had happened last night. Aside from the tender moment at the bakery, Maximillian slipped into strictly platonic territory. Only occasionally did his hand linger on my arm for too long, or I caught him staring at me with hope. Maximillian seemed to sense that I needed a friend more than a flirtatious love interest last night and made sure to make things easy and fun. I quickly wrote him a text, thanking him for the booze and for taking me home, before tossing my phone on the bed and walking into my bathroom.
The moment my eyes hit the toilet, embarrassment hit me like the vomit I spewed last night. I purged shame through my pores. I couldn’t even look at the porcelain throne without blushing. Decker had held my hair up. He was attentive and kind. The part of me that refused to hope said he did it out of a sense of duty, but I knew better. Decker still cared, so what was I going to do with that information?
Turning on the water, I got under the stream and steam while trying not to feel hope. Decker took care of me last night. Certainly, that had to count for something?
Whether or not he cared wasn’t ever an issue. It was the possibility of caring too much that had us feeling so restrained.
I lathered the citrus soap in my palm and ran it over my body while letting the smell of bad decisions slip down the drain. Once I felt human again, I turned the water off and toweled dry before going to stand in front of the mirror. Images of last night flashed in my mind once more as I wiped away the condensation from the steam and stared at myself.
Today, I felt like myself again. Yesterday was needed but reckless. I didn’t want to spiral into the destructive selfishness Mama used to live out.
My sopping wet hair made droplets of water travel down my back, and I opened the bathroom door to head back into my room, pausing when I heard the front door open.
Decker walked inside, carrying a messenger bag over his shoulder as he slammed the door shut and glanced down the hallway toward me. I clutched the towel tighter against my body. There was a silent standoff between us. His eyes swept over where the towel hit mid-thigh, his dark, gaze lingering on the triangle of skin peeping through the thick fabric.
“You okay?” he finally asked with a cough before running his hand through his dark hair. He shifted his bag over his crotch, and I wondered if he was trying to hide a growing erection. It thrilled me.
“Yep. Thanks for covering for me. And for last night,” I whispered. The AC kicked on, and a blast of cold air