Promises We Meant to Make

The blank screen of the laptop stared back at Henry Thomas as he sat alone in his study, trying to come up with something brilliant to write. Again.

It was the fourth night in a row that Henry was up past midnight with the horid disease known as Writer’s Block, but he got nowhere. Every time he would start to type a paragraph, he'd realize it made no sense, or that he had no idea where he was going with it. His sidekick lit up, and he glanced from his computer to his phone, then back to his computer. He could not let himself get distracted this time. He would sit at home alone all night if it called for it.

The sidekick went off again, taken to the floor this time with the vibration of his ring tone. She wasn't going to give up either. Henry picked the phone up off the floor and held it to his ear, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, my dear?"

He was greeted with an excited yelp. "I was hoping you'd be up. You're writing again, aren't you?" the girl on the other side of the phone asked cheerily.

"I am," replied Henry. "Or rather, I am trying. You can't keep calling like this, Alina."

Alina let out a small laugh. "I'll continue to call as long as you continue to answer."

Henry held up his head with his free hand. "Then I guess I have no other choice than to hang up and ignore your incessant attempt to steal my attention." Henry typed three letters onto his keyboard, then immediately deleted them.

"You will not, and that wouldn't stop me from driving to your apartment and dragging you out of that depressing study of yours," Alina declared, trying to sound authoritative.

Henry chuckled and slowly started spinning his computer chair. "I'd like to see you try," he challenged.

"I'll see you in ten."

The line went dead and a smirk grew on Henry's face. Here we go again. Every night that Henry would try to write, Alina would call him and distract him from his work. Henry wasn't sure if it was hindering his nonexistent progress, or leading to future inspiration.

What wasn't inspiring about a twenty-three-year-old guy getting distracted by a twenty-year-old college girl?

The door to the apartment swung open. Alina stood against the door frame dangling the key that Henry hid under the "Welcome" mat. Welcome indeed.

Alina was dressed in a black cocktail dress, with black ankle boots that had four-inch heels to match.

Henry sized her up, starting with her mile-long legs and short hemline, stopping at her low-cut neckline. Alina strutted toward him, raising his chin so their eyes met. "Ready to raise some hell?"

Henry glanced back at his laptop. "Why must you tempt me?"

Alina slowly reached across him and closed the laptop. Henry stared at her slender hand. Her nails were painted a deep red. How fitting. She grabbed his hand and started dragging him toward the door.

Henry raised an eyebrow and studied Alina's icey blue eyes. "Where are we going tonight?"

"Out," she answered simply, dragging him behind her.

Henry’s decision to move to North Carolina wasn’t an unexpected one. There was only so much of Charleswood, Ohio that one aspiring writer could take. He always wanted to go somewhere warm, but he found Florida tacky, and the idea of California sinking or breaking off from the rest of the country due to an earthquake terrified him. Somehow, that landed him in North Carolina.

He’d decided to take a few writing classes at a community college, but found himself partying more and studying less. His intentions were never to drop out of college and get a job, especially one at a local newspaper.

Regardless, the newspaper brought in money. Not a lot, but enough to pay rent on his tiny apartment. He found writing stories about local crime and high school dull. The two upsides to his job were that he was starting to get recognized as a writer, and he had some extra time to finally start his novel. Or at least try.

If it weren’t for Alina Abbot, there was a small chance that Henry could have made some progress, but that was hard for Henry to even imagine. As little as he’d like to admit it, Henry was caught in Alina’s web. The way they worked was something most guys could only dream about. They were friends, practically best friends, and when they needed company-- in any form -- they were there for eachother.

There were no flaws to their system aside from Alina’s youth. It was just a three year difference, but Alina was still new to the party scene, and insisted on dragging Henry with her to the new locations that she never stopped discovering.

Somehow, this landed them in a local night club called Silver Horse.

Alina found out about it through one of her more eccentric college friends, and it was as tacky as it sounded. The music was loud, the fashion was dramatic, and the people on the dance floor either got in with a fake ID or were going through a midlife crisis.

Alina approached the bar, intertwining her fingers with Henry's, afraid she'd lose him in the crowd. "A screw driver and a shot of whisky, on the rocks, please."

The bar tender nodded and grabbed a few bottles from under the bar, then poured the drinks, handing them to Alina. "Enjoy," he winked.

Alina handed the whiskey to Henry. "Cheers!" she chirped, clinking her glass against his.

Henry took the shot and smiled at Alina devilishly. "You'll need to poison me with a few more of these if you expect me to last more than two minutes in this place," then he pulled her close, "Or we can just go back to my place now."

Alina giggled and pulled her arm out of Henry's grasp. "Shut up, silly. Just dance with me," she demanded, spinning around and walking to the center of the dance floor.

Henry sighed, but did as instructed. Alina seemed perfectly at home here, not even caring that they were surrounded by creeps and freaks. She seemed to be too caught up in the music to notice.

"I'm going to go get another drink," Henry said after a few dances. Alina shrugged and turned to dance with some random stranger who was seconds away from breaking into the robot.

Henry pushed his way to the bar, ignoring the glares he was receiving from strangers. He could care less about what these people thought about him. This was Alina's scene, not his.

The bar tender was busy flirting with some young girl at the opposite end of the bar, so Henry took a seat at an empty stool next to an attractive blonde.

The girl spun in her stool to face him. "You look like you're having fun." The sarcasm in her voice was enough to make Henry chuckle.

"You bet."

The girl toook in Henry's shaggy hair and boyish grin, deciding that he was adorable. Girls like her loved guys like Henry. "Yeah, this isn't the greatest bar I've been to," the girl said as she polished off her drink. "But It's most definitely getting better."

Henry smirked and held out his hand. "Henry Thomas."

She shook his hand. "Elizabeth. You can call me Lizzie."

As time passed, Henry hardly noticed how many songs went by, or how wasted he was getting. What he did notice was that Lizzie was becoming more attractive by the minute.

Henry took one more shot before rising from the bar stool. “Do you want to get out of here?” he hollered over the music.

Lizzie wobbled as she stood up. “Your place or mine?”

Henry grinned and wrapped his arm around the girl’s waiste. “Mine.”

Henry and Lizzie stumbled into the apartment, not even bothering to shut the door behind them. They fell to the couch, her lips hungrily pressing against his neck, then finding their way to his own.

"Won't your girlfriend be upset?" Lizzie whispered, starting to tug at Henry's gray t-shirt.

He pulled his shirt over his head. "Who?" he asked, beginning to undress Lizzie as well.

"You know, the girl at the bar with you. The pretty blode in the black dress."

For a split second, Henry thought about Alina. Would she be okay there by herself? Would any of those creeps try anything? But Henry didn't care. Alina wasn't his girlfriend. She wasn't his responsibility. Any girl her age should be completely able to take care of themselves, and if they couldn't, they shouldn't leave home for college.

He knew Alina left for him. As much as Henry tried told himself it wasn't true, he knew it was. Alina was perfectly content back home, it was Henry that had to get away. Charleswood, Ohio was no place for an aspiring young writer like Henry.

But Alina would follow Henry everywhere, and Henry was okay with that. Alina was a pretty girl, sweet and naive. Henry liked the idea of always having someone who would drop everything for him the moment he felt like having some company. Maybe he liked her, but he was still young, and Alina would always be there. Always.

"Why don't we take this to the bedroom?" Lizzie asked, gently pushing on Henry's chest.

Henry smirked. "That's the best idea I've heard all night."