Sinking Faster

A few shakes and burgers later, both John and Courtney were engrossed in conversation, with feeble attempts to include both Garrett and I. Their attempts rendered useless, as the tension radiating among either of us was obvious.

I guess I could say I did not have a reason to act like this - a pouting child not having their way, but the fact that someone I didn‘t know, a guy, no less - belittled me with just one glance that strewn the label “slut” - pissed me off.

At first, both John and Courtney didn’t know what to do. They probably didn’t expect such a mishap would happen. All I could hear was the conversation around me, ranging from twenty questions, John’s band, which Garrett was also in, and what Courtney was doing for the summer. I remained apathetic through it all, staring at the awning of the table, with my arms crossed, wondering what the hell I was doing here. Surely I could just walk out and leave, counter up some excuse to Courtney that my mom had just called, that I was supposed to run errands, but the odds that she would believe me were not likely.

“So, Nicole, what do you do for a living?” John asked, grinning at Courtney while doing so, probably trying to broaden the conversation.

“Uh, well, I work at a local book store and I’m supposed to be enrolling at the UP in September,” I replied, playing with the straw in my drink.

“Wow, I didn’t take you for the college-book type,” John observed, leaning back on his chair, taking a bite of his burger.

“I didn’t, either,” Garrett muttered, rolling his eyes.

After debating whether to brew up a storm or to reply calmly, I finally blurted out, “Okay what is your problem with me? I’ve never met or talked to you before, and yet you choose to throw random accusations at me for no reason.”

And then it became quiet. All four of us, looking at one another awkwardly, John and Courtney staring from me to him, back and fourth, not knowing what to do.

Instead of responding in the way I’d hoped he could, Garrett leaned back on his chair, putting his hands behind his head, smiling slyly. “Let me guess, you’re the girl that gets around, leaves in the morning, can’t hold down a fort, spills her drinks over and over again….”

Before I could even let him continue, I replied, “What does this have to do with anything? I didn’t choose do go on this date, and obviously neither did you. You don’t know anything about me.”

With the smirk still implanted on his face, Garrett replied, “Oh, I’ve heard things. Things fly fast around here.”

“And…? What might that be?” I asked, furrowing my brow. This kid confused the living fuck out of me. And to think that John and Courtney were probably expecting to have good time, on their date; not the fact that it would end up in an argument over something that didn’t seem to add up.

“Just enough to draw conclusions,” Garrett answered simply, smiling.

“What’s your motive? To piss me off? Well guess what, you win, because I don’t have time for this bullshit,” I replied, grabbing my stuff, getting ready to walk out of there altogether. I didn’t want to come to begin with, not that it was Courtney’s fault; no one had predicted how the evening would end.

Meanwhile, Courtney and John just looked at each other cluelessly, probably regretting having bringing both Garrett and I under such circumstances. But then again, how could they blame me? I didn’t know he would make such an ass of himself. Call me childish, but it was true.

“Um, I’ll…I’ll call you later?” Courtney asked John, getting up from her seat and biting her lip hesitantly.

“Yeah, that’s fine, or I’ll call you. Whichever is fine,” John answered, getting up and giving her a quick hug good-bye.

When Courtney and I walked out of the restaurant, I heard John’s muffled voice, asking Garrett why he had acted like such a douche. I couldn’t really hear what he said in response. Not that I cared, because I had more important things to think about. I was just bothered with the idea that he had judged me so quickly and suddenly, at one glance. Maybe it wasn’t even just that. Maybe it was the fact that he’d “heard” things about me. What kind of things? What could he possibly know? As far as I knew, we didn’t know any of the same people at all. But then again, this was a small town, and it was summer, and the possibilities were endless from having gone to party to party every night with the blurred images of intoxication appearing right before my eyes. It could be a possibility, and that was all I was left with to think about.

I couldn’t think of it too much longer or else I’d be over thinking it. Besides, I’m Nicole Freeman and I did not give a fuck.

Or at least that’s what I thought.