Status: Currently a one shot, but I'd like to develop it...
Wrong
three.
I squinted up against the setting sun and groaned. “What are you doing here? How’d you find me?”
“You drive slow,” Chris shrugged. “And I took a lucky guess.”
“What do you want?” I sipped my beer, trying to get as drunk as possible. Hopefully, this would all just be a stupid dream.
“A lot was left unsaid in that kitchen, I think,” Chris explained. “You did your talking. I’d like to do mine.”
“This isn’t court, Chris,” I said.
“I know,” he cracked himself open a beer against the rocks, just like we used to do in high school. “But it’s how I’m used to dealing with things now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Go ahead.” If he kept talking, I could keep drinking.
“You never knew why I ended things. You never let me tell you,” he shushed me as I opened my mouth to say he never tried. “Don’t say it’s because I never made an attempt. I called you, you never answered.” He chugged half his beer quickly. “I left for school, yes. But I ended things because I was afraid.”
“What were you afraid of?” I laughed bitterly. “What could you, Christopher Hodgkin the football player extraordinaire, be afraid of?” The alcohol was beginning to take its toll on me. Under normal circumstances, I would have been embarrassed. But this wasn’t normal.
“I was afraid you would do it first,” he blurted out. I could tell he’d been trying to find a lie to feed me. “Okay? I was afraid of losing.”
“Well that’s not surprising,” I rolled my eyes. “You always were a bit of an egomaniac. Back then, you had football to obsess over. Now, you’ve got court dates.”
Chris didn’t say anything and I knew I could take that as a silent victory. It wasn’t often he was rendered speechless. But I knew him better than anyone. Better than his uncle who had raised him, better than the coach he confided everything in, and in certain ways, better than my own brother.
“Do you remember coming here in high school?” now I was just saying things. “All the parties?”
In spite of himself, Chris laughed too. “Do you think the undersides of these rocks still have the scuff marks from the beer bottles?”
“Do you think all the caps we buried are still there?” we both laughed an alcohol induce squeal. It really wasn’t that funny; just humorous. “Let’s go check!” I got up too quickly and stumbled around on the rocks.
Chris caught my arms and steadied me. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Chris,” I complained. “Don’t be such a kill joy.”
“If being a kill joy is going to keep you from falling on your ass and possibly bashing your head open, then I’ll take that role gladly,” he said. “Now you come on. Let’s get you home.” He picked up the towel and beer bottles. I’d had two, he’d only managed one.
“Where are your keys?” he asked as we reached my car. Chris tugged on the handle, knowing it would be open. I had an irrational fear of losing my keys in the sand, so when at the beach, I just tended to leave the car unlocked.
“Mitten box,” I said drunkenly.
“Mitten box,” he laughed under his breath as he reached for the glove box. “Of course.”
Chris lowered my head into the car and made sure I buckled my seat belt. I hated thinking about the last time he’d driven my car. It wasn’t my brightest moment. But granted, neither was this.
We’d been coming back from the drive in maybe a week or two before he’d broken up with me. His truck had been in the shop so we’d taken blankets and sat in my trunk. Before the second movie of the night, I’d gotten up to use the bathroom and get us more snacks.
When I’d come back, another girl was in my spot talking to Chris. I vaguely remembered her; she’d been in Chris and Damian’s grade. Insecurely thinking they’d been flirting, I kept to myself for the rest of the night and sort of gone off on Chris during the car ride home.
”You’re being ridiculous,” he shook his head. “Kelly and I were just talking.”
“She didn’t need a blanket to talk,” I argued stubbornly.
I was younger than they were and despite having been together so long, I was still in shock that he’d picked me out of so many possibilities. He was the football star, best friends with the town hockey prodigy, and probably one of the best looking guys to ever live in the town. I was just… me, Ryanne, the chef.
“How are you getting home?” my speech was slurring just a tad. “Where are you staying?”
“I’ll walk,” Chris shrugged. “I’ll spend the night at your brother’s. But I’m with my uncle now.”
“Uncle Gary,” I smiled. “I love him.”
“He likes you too,” he assured me. “Nearly kicked my ass for breaking up with you.”
“So why’d you do it?” I wondered, tearing up drunkenly. “Why’d you break up with me, Chrissy?” I used the nickname my brother would chirp him with.
“We already talked about this,” Chris pulled into my driveway and brushed my hair out of my face. “You need to go to bed. I’ll walk you up.”
“No,” I jerked my arm away. “I’m fine.”
“Ryanne,” he said. “Let me help you. Please. Just to the door.”
“I’m fine,” I reaffirmed. “Just… go away. Go home. Please.”
He didn’t argue anymore, but I knew he hadn’t left. As I fumbled for the right key, I could feel him watching me. Even as I opened the door and slammed it behind me, I knew he was still there.
Part of me didn’t like that he was hovering all of a sudden. But a part of me was glad he was. It felt good to be cared for, even if I was trying to get him to leave me alone.
“Maybe you really do still love me,” I mused to myself. “Even after all this time.”
The not so wise words of a drunken girl.
“You drive slow,” Chris shrugged. “And I took a lucky guess.”
“What do you want?” I sipped my beer, trying to get as drunk as possible. Hopefully, this would all just be a stupid dream.
“A lot was left unsaid in that kitchen, I think,” Chris explained. “You did your talking. I’d like to do mine.”
“This isn’t court, Chris,” I said.
“I know,” he cracked himself open a beer against the rocks, just like we used to do in high school. “But it’s how I’m used to dealing with things now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Go ahead.” If he kept talking, I could keep drinking.
“You never knew why I ended things. You never let me tell you,” he shushed me as I opened my mouth to say he never tried. “Don’t say it’s because I never made an attempt. I called you, you never answered.” He chugged half his beer quickly. “I left for school, yes. But I ended things because I was afraid.”
“What were you afraid of?” I laughed bitterly. “What could you, Christopher Hodgkin the football player extraordinaire, be afraid of?” The alcohol was beginning to take its toll on me. Under normal circumstances, I would have been embarrassed. But this wasn’t normal.
“I was afraid you would do it first,” he blurted out. I could tell he’d been trying to find a lie to feed me. “Okay? I was afraid of losing.”
“Well that’s not surprising,” I rolled my eyes. “You always were a bit of an egomaniac. Back then, you had football to obsess over. Now, you’ve got court dates.”
Chris didn’t say anything and I knew I could take that as a silent victory. It wasn’t often he was rendered speechless. But I knew him better than anyone. Better than his uncle who had raised him, better than the coach he confided everything in, and in certain ways, better than my own brother.
“Do you remember coming here in high school?” now I was just saying things. “All the parties?”
In spite of himself, Chris laughed too. “Do you think the undersides of these rocks still have the scuff marks from the beer bottles?”
“Do you think all the caps we buried are still there?” we both laughed an alcohol induce squeal. It really wasn’t that funny; just humorous. “Let’s go check!” I got up too quickly and stumbled around on the rocks.
Chris caught my arms and steadied me. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Chris,” I complained. “Don’t be such a kill joy.”
“If being a kill joy is going to keep you from falling on your ass and possibly bashing your head open, then I’ll take that role gladly,” he said. “Now you come on. Let’s get you home.” He picked up the towel and beer bottles. I’d had two, he’d only managed one.
“Where are your keys?” he asked as we reached my car. Chris tugged on the handle, knowing it would be open. I had an irrational fear of losing my keys in the sand, so when at the beach, I just tended to leave the car unlocked.
“Mitten box,” I said drunkenly.
“Mitten box,” he laughed under his breath as he reached for the glove box. “Of course.”
Chris lowered my head into the car and made sure I buckled my seat belt. I hated thinking about the last time he’d driven my car. It wasn’t my brightest moment. But granted, neither was this.
We’d been coming back from the drive in maybe a week or two before he’d broken up with me. His truck had been in the shop so we’d taken blankets and sat in my trunk. Before the second movie of the night, I’d gotten up to use the bathroom and get us more snacks.
When I’d come back, another girl was in my spot talking to Chris. I vaguely remembered her; she’d been in Chris and Damian’s grade. Insecurely thinking they’d been flirting, I kept to myself for the rest of the night and sort of gone off on Chris during the car ride home.
”You’re being ridiculous,” he shook his head. “Kelly and I were just talking.”
“She didn’t need a blanket to talk,” I argued stubbornly.
I was younger than they were and despite having been together so long, I was still in shock that he’d picked me out of so many possibilities. He was the football star, best friends with the town hockey prodigy, and probably one of the best looking guys to ever live in the town. I was just… me, Ryanne, the chef.
“How are you getting home?” my speech was slurring just a tad. “Where are you staying?”
“I’ll walk,” Chris shrugged. “I’ll spend the night at your brother’s. But I’m with my uncle now.”
“Uncle Gary,” I smiled. “I love him.”
“He likes you too,” he assured me. “Nearly kicked my ass for breaking up with you.”
“So why’d you do it?” I wondered, tearing up drunkenly. “Why’d you break up with me, Chrissy?” I used the nickname my brother would chirp him with.
“We already talked about this,” Chris pulled into my driveway and brushed my hair out of my face. “You need to go to bed. I’ll walk you up.”
“No,” I jerked my arm away. “I’m fine.”
“Ryanne,” he said. “Let me help you. Please. Just to the door.”
“I’m fine,” I reaffirmed. “Just… go away. Go home. Please.”
He didn’t argue anymore, but I knew he hadn’t left. As I fumbled for the right key, I could feel him watching me. Even as I opened the door and slammed it behind me, I knew he was still there.
Part of me didn’t like that he was hovering all of a sudden. But a part of me was glad he was. It felt good to be cared for, even if I was trying to get him to leave me alone.
“Maybe you really do still love me,” I mused to myself. “Even after all this time.”
The not so wise words of a drunken girl.
♠ ♠ ♠
Chapter 3!Let me know what's on your minds, lovelies!