Covet

Tommy walked with me to the bar. Brendon had disappeared into the large sea of people soon after we walked into the door because he ran into some of his old friends from college.

“Six shots,” Tommy told the bartender, who exchanged a glance between Tommy and I before getting his order. Tommy turned his attention to me. “You’re not going to back out, are you?” he teased as he fought back a smile.

“If you down three shots right in a row, there’s no way you can not get drunk off that, Tommy,” I said, switching my gaze to the shot glasses being poured in front of us. I saw him shake his head out of the corner of my eye.

“The question was if you could keep it down, not if you were going to get drunk or not,” he pointed out.

I hummed. “Right.”

Tommy put a shot glass in front of me before taking one for himself. We raised our glasses and took them at the same time. I felt the burn from the vodka as it went down my throat, making my eyes squeeze shut and my nose crinkle. I heard Tommy laugh.

“This’ll be fun,” he commented happily, more so to himself than to me, I think. Without hesitation, he downed his second shot, and let out a deep breath as he set the empty glass down onto the bar top. I raised my eyebrows; somehow simultaneously impressed and concerned that this was so easy to him. He dismissed my look and put another shot glass in front of me.

“You’re fallin’ behind,” he pointed out. I shook my head but quickly took the shot anyway. I cleared my throat as I held back a cough, and reached for the third glass. Without waiting for Tommy, I took it, and it was far easier than the first two. I looked up at him a moment later, and I couldn’t help but smile at how shocked he looked.

“Now you are,” I teased, waving the bartender back over to us.

*

It’s incredible how quickly three shots turn to five, and suddenly you’re drinking things and don’t even remember anything else except that you’ve got to feed the warm fire building in the pit of your stomach that aches to be fueled with more alcohol.

Tommy and I met up with Brendon in the parking lot sometime later, and as Brendon pulled his car keys out of his pocket, I grabbed them from him.

“You don’t drink and drive, Conlon,” I scolded. “Call a cab.”

He laughed, but listened to what I said and took his phone out. “We should’ve thought this out better.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I s’pose.”

The three of us all leaned against the back of Brendon’s car as we waited for the taxi to show up. When it did, we all piled into the backseat, and I was squished in the middle. Since my apartment was closer than Brendon’s house, I gave the driver my address first. The ride was silent as I began to feel lightheaded, and I was already able to tell that I was going to regret how much I drank.

When we pulled to the side of the road in front of my complex, Tommy got out of the backseat so I can get out, but he didn’t go back in.

“I’m gonna walk her up,” he slurred to Brendon before shutting the car door. He turned to look at me after, as if to ask for permission. I nodded, and pointed to the general direction of where my apartment was.

We walked side by side together, our arms occasionally lightly touching each other’s, and I remember the cold breeze felt amazing on my face, which was feeling warm. It’s debatable whether that was from the alcohol or Tommy’s sudden approval and proximity to me. We went up the small set of stairs and I pulled out my keys. When we reached my front door, Tommy didn’t budge. I looked at the ground for a few moments, waiting for him to leave, to hug me, to do something, but he didn’t. I looked up at him then, but his expression was blank.

“Do you uh, want to come in?” I hesitated, not really sure of what to do. He nodded. “What about Brendon? He’s waiting for you down there,” I pointed out as I unlocked the door. I saw him shrug.

“He’ll figure it out,” he mumbled. I opened the door for him and gestured for him to go inside. He stepped in, and I followed, reaching to my left to turn on the lights. He took liberty of walking over to my couch and sitting down.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked, going into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Nah, I’m okay.”

Once I got my water, I joined him on the couch. We were quiet for a while, and I felt myself growing tired.

“How’s my dad?” he asked suddenly, surprising me.

“I, um, he’s okay,” I stumbled over my own words. “Yeah, he’s okay. Just lonely, is all.” I took a sip of my water and set the glass down on the table.

“Don’t tell him I asked,” he said quietly as he sat back on the couch, resting his head.

“I’m going to go to sleep,” I announced after a minute, standing up and stumbling a bit, which earned a snort from Tommy. I flipped him off and walked to my room, and heard him laugh behind me.

He called out a goodnight, but I just waved my hand in the air and collapsed onto my bed, passing out.