I slide the balcony door open once again, but as soon as I do my footsteps are halted by the view in front of me. My eyes go wide as I’m immediately greeted by the sight and and sound of utter chaos.
All hell has literally broken loose.
The football and basketball team members are getting into it, viciously tackling and lunging at each other for some reason unknown to me.
My eyes dart around as surprise and confusion rob me of my ability to speak, and for several seconds, I can do little else but watch a blur of several large fists swinging and flying all over the place as the players exchange blows and punches.
What the fuck?!
Out of nowhere, a player stumbles backwards and almost falls on me, and immediately, my panic and survival instincts kick in and I dodge his large frame with a quickness, and he comes tumbling down on the threshold of the balcony door beside me.
My confusion quickly dissipates to give way for logic, and there’s only one thought that comes to my mind; Trixie.
Oh, my God, I hope she’s not hurt.
I quickly step around the large player’s body and walk back into the house, looking around frantically, trying to spot her amidst the rowdiness and chaos. My heart pounds in my chest as I continue to dodge several angry men who are almost twice my size.
Thank God it doesn’t take long to find her, and she appears to be fine. Actually, she seems to be enjoying the fight. I can’t stop myself from huffing incredulously. Here I was worried that she’d gotten squashed between some crazed players, yet here she is with her eyes wide and a smile on her face, happily spectating with a detached hookah pipe in her hands.
She really is unbelievable sometimes.
I hastily pull her away from the midst of the chaos, shuffling her over to a somewhat safe corner, and for the time being, we can only watch as grown men try to gut each other.
All the while, tempers continue to flare, girls continue to scream and yell, the alcohol and weed and God knows what else kicks in, and the fight escalates further. And the brawl only spreads as their respective teammates come to their aid.
I’m confused and shocked as hell, and I’m sure the incredulous look on my face let’s Trixie know that, too. I look over to her, and I can’t believe the bitch is giggling in her drunken stupor, clearly excited about the lunacy that’s going on. I want to ask her what happened, but I figure it doesn’t even matter at this point. Things are already so far out of control.
From what Trixie’s told me in the past, there’s always been this underlying tension between the football and basketball teams, so I suppose the brawl would have happened at some point, regardless of the catalyst. Besides, when you mix a whole lot of alcohol with a whole lot of testosterone and inflated egos, something’s bound to go wrong. Still, I’m not sticking around to find out how this Halloween-bash-turned-brawl pans out.
I grab Trixie’s arm and start pulling her toward the main door. “We’re leaving,” I say, not paying any mind to her drunken protests.
“Oh my God, Roni, that’s Jamie Wrighton!” she exclaims abruptly, but the words leave her lips in a sluggish slur, mirroring her intoxicated little body. “He came!” she says, sounding a little too happy about seeing someone she doesn’t actually even know.
“And we’re about to be gone,” I reply dryly, still pulling her toward the main exit and paying her remark no mind.
“But it’s Jamie Wrighton!” she whines, trying in vain to nudge her arm free of my grasp.
I try to ignore my rising annoyance and remain firm. “Trixie, I don’t care if Mother frickin’ Teresa walked in right this instant. We’re not staying!”
She grumbles something unintelligible, and I can only sigh. I had almost forgotten just how much she tends to whine and complain whenever she’s drunk. But as irritated as I am with her and everyone else in this house right now, I’m a million times more irritated with myself for even considering coming here.
I mean, who was I kidding? It was a completely bad idea, not to mention a total waste of my time. What was supposed to be a distraction quickly turned out to be a complete and utter nuisance that I could have spared myself from if I’d just told her ‘no’. I should have just taken my chances with wallowing alone in self-pity and drowning myself in chocolate and sugar at home. At least then I wouldn’t have the bloody migraine that has currently taken over my temples.
I finally manage to squeeze us past the multitude of shuffling bodies and rowdy voices, barely dodging someone’s clumsy beer spill as I do.
We’re about to head out of the door, and as soon as I reach for the knob, I hear Trixie gasp dramatically and nudge my arm.
“Holy shit, Roni, he’s coming this way!” she says. I think she meant to whisper it to me, but in her intoxicated state, it comes out as a very loud hiss, easily grabbing the attention of the few people still standing nearby despite the blaring music in the background.
I frown at her statement, confusion contorting my face. “What? Who is?”
I look over my shoulder to see Jamie walking toward us, and I realize it’s still him she’s talking about.
Damn it, not now.
I was hoping she was just saying it to get me to stay longer, but he easily closes the distance between us, confirming her words.
Just as Jamie approaches us, I inadvertently spot the “doctor’s” girlfriend from earlier behind him, standing amidst the ruckus—and she’s still giving me the stink eye.
Normally, I’d ask what her problem is, but I already know the answer. There’s no doubt about it. She totally thinks I’m some shameless slut out to get any and every guy in sight—including our school’s very own star quarterback.
Honestly, her presumption would have bothered the crap out of me once upon a time, perhaps even weeks ago, but right now, I’m too fucking exhausted to give a damn about what she or anyone else here thinks of me.
Jamie’s voice draws my attention away from her and back to his large frame, now standing right in front of me. “Gallo. I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, smiling with his hands shoved in his pockets, seemingly unbothered by the chaos happening behind him.
His demeanor is as casual and laid back as his outfit; a pair of washed out jeans and a red checkered flannel jacket. It immediately reminds me of that obnoxious flannel jacket commercial I’d heard on the radio all those weeks ago, and for a split second, I can actually picture Jamie as the poster child for the ridiculous ad, happily endorsing the damn things. I’d probably laugh at the memory if my current situation wasn’t even more pitiful than it was back then.
“Actually, we were just leaving,” I say.
For some reason, I almost expect him to try to persuade me to stay—probably because I spent most of my night being pestered by that sleazy Ace Ventura wannabe—so I’m surprised when he simply nods and says, “I’ll walk you to your car, then.”
“Oh, that’s okay, you don’t need to—”
My words are cut off when Trixie suddenly stumbles, and inertia forces me into the same abrupt discoordination, making me stumble along with her, but Jamie easily steadies her, holding her securely and easing her weight off me in a single motion.
He gives me another sheepish smile. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you to your car?” he says, his brow arched in amusement. He doesn’t even have to say the rest out loud. His expression is already screaming “Your friend could really use a little help.”
My eyes immediately go to Trixie, shooting hot daggers at her because I just know the “drunken stumble” is all a bullshit act. She totally did it on purpose. The girl lives to set me up like this. Even when she’s stupidly drunk, she somehow manages to find a way to put me in these kinds of situations. I swear, if she wasn’t my best friend, I’d strangle her right now.
“Fine,” I finally relent, trying not to sigh or roll my eyes. Or both.
Jamie easily picks Trixie up in his arms, and I could have sworn I heard her squeal in delight, no doubt thinking to herself that this is one of the most victorious moments of her life. I can only shake my head internally.
We head out of the duplex and into the parking lot, my hands gripping my body tightly, doing their best to shield it from the freezing air. Jamie and I both are quiet as we walk to Trixie’s 2013 Chevy Cruze, but Trixie keeps muttering more unintelligible things—including something about seeing Olaf from Frozen just walk by us—and she even throws in a few sporadic giggles here and there. I immediately hear Jamie’s responsive chuckle at her silliness. Honestly, I’d probably be laughing too if I didn’t feel like the sheer weight of the entire world was on my shoulders.
Sigh.
I’m almost a hundred percent convinced that I must have been standing right next to Atlas when he shrugged.
It’s not long before we get to Trixie’s car, and Jamie carefully sets her in the back seat, and while he straps her seat-belt on for her, I see her give him the friendliest smile I’ve ever seen on her face before she sluggishly thanks him—in between a few hiccups.
Once Trixie is safely in the car, I turn to him once more. “Thank you for your help,” I say, offering the most gratuitous smile I can muster at the moment.
“You’re welcome,” he says with a smile of his own. When he doesn’t say anything else, I figure the conversation is over.
I give him a slight nod. “Well, then…have a good night,” I say before turning away from him, beyond ready to drive home, put Trixie to bed, and put an end to this annoying night.
I reach for my door, but before my fingers even get a chance to graze the handle, he grabs my hand, trapping it with his much larger one. The action surprises me – and kind of confuses me, too.
On reflex, I turn to face him once more with what I’m positive is a shocked expression plastered on my face. And my confusion only heightens when he speaks again.
“Hey, uh…I-I’ve been meaning to ask you…,” he begins, hesitating for a few seconds, his eyes uncertain, but he goes on. “Would…would you like to get coffee with me sometime?”
My brows arch on their own, my lips part slightly, and my forehead furrows in even more surprise as his words register in my head.
Did…did he just ask me out?
There’s quite a pause on my part, and I’m still thinking of something to say when suddenly, Trixie’s face pops up at the driver’s window out of nowhere, her moist palm against the glass, smiling like she’s on helium.
“Of course, she’ll go out with you!” she slurs enthusiastically from inside.
Her abrupt reappearance both startles and horrifies me, but Jamie seems nothing short of amused.
When in tarnation did she get there? And how in the hell did she even hear him?
My eyes go wide at her abrupt—and pretty shameless—set-up, and she only continues to egg him on, putting even more pressure on me.
“Sundays are her day off!” she yells from inside, the barrier of the car doing little to muffle her loud voice. “She doesn’t have anything else to do tomorrow! She’d absolutely love to have sex—I mean, go out with you,” she finishes.
I can only continue to stare at her in horror, and all she does is gives me one of those stupid winks, as if I’m actually enjoying any part of this crazy scam she probably calls “match-making”.
Jamie just stands there, waiting on an answer from me as I try to subdue the image in my head of my hands wrapping themselves tightly around Trixie’s throat.
When I look at him again, his expression is a mixture of amusement and discomfort, but more of the latter, with hints of worry in his eyes. He thinks I’m going to decline his offer, and honestly, that’s exactly what I was going to do—albeit politely, of course—but Trixie looks like she’s going to open her big mouth again and embarrass me some more, and I can certainly do without more of her interference for one night.
“Sure, why not?” I breathe out, hating myself for coming out tonight for the millionth time.
Any and all signs of worry immediately vanish from Jamie’s face, and his full-blown smile takes center stage once again.
“Awesome! Tomorrow at Pearson’s sound good? Twelve-ish?” he says enthusiastically.
“Sure,” I reply flatly. I can’t even pretend to be excited, but then again, I’m not trying to lead him on, or deceive myself, for that matter. Absolutely nothing—short or long-term—is going to come of this. And I’m going to make sure he knows precisely that at noon tomorrow at Pearson’s, without Trixie there to play devil’s advocate.
***
- Fascinated
- Happy
- Sad
- Angry
- Bored
- Afraid
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