“I’m sorry,” I reply when nothing else comes to mind.
He pulls his hair between his fingers. “Don’t be. Just bring me a bottle of Absolut.”
“A bottle?”
“Yes,” he answers on edge. He dismisses me by staring out the window again. Maybe I should be angry about him coming here, but I can’t be. Not when he’s finally turning the pages of his story, answering some of my questions about why he is the way he is. Besides, friends stick by each other’s sides, even when things aren’t picture perfect.
I leave him alone, walking back to the bar to read Charlie Blake’s order for self-medication. “Did you tell him how much it’s going to cost?” he asks, standing on his toes to grab a bottle from the top shelf.
“I don’t think he cares. Besides, this one’s on me.”
“Well, in that case, I suggest you get your ass out to your tables a little more often to earn your tips.” Charlie’s not joking either.
“Thanks for the advice. Can I get a shot glass too?” I ask, tightly gripping the neck of the bottle in my hand. Someone’s bound to bump into me, and I can’t exactly afford another. Charlie slams a glass on the counter; I grab that too.
My palms sweat against the glass as I make my way back over to Blake. His eyes follow me like a stalker in the night, yet I want his attention. I want to know he’s thinking about me.
“Here,” I announce, setting the bottle in front of Blake. I don’t even recognize him tonight. I’ve caught glimpses of the charming one and more than my fair share of the asshole I’d met first, but this distant, sad version is new to me.
He wastes no time twisting the lid off the vodka bottle and filling his glass. He throws it back, and tops it off again. “Have you ever been in love?” he asks.
“Once,” I answer, taking the seat next to him so I can keep an eye on things at the bar.
He grips my chair, pulling it closer until our knees touch. Then he takes his second shot. The alcohol doesn’t seem to faze him. “What happened?”
“He decided he didn’t want to be with me anymore.”
He nods, pouring more of the clear liquid in his glass. “Well, he’s an idiot.”
When he goes to lift the glass to his lips again, I grab hold of his wrist. I’m not willing to watch him self-destruct. He’s just going to wake up tomorrow in this same messed up state; the alcohol only temporarily drowns the memories. “Take it easy.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Don’t get what?” I ask.
He frees his hand from my grip, knocking back another shot.
“You’re the type of woman that men don’t know they want until they’ve already fallen. You’re there, and then you’re just . . . everywhere.”
I swallow, fumbling for words. I heard what he said, but processing it is a bit harder. I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “And is that the type of woman Alyssa is?”
His mouth falls open, but he quickly recovers. “No, that was a conscious fall.”
I nod, debating which could possibly be better. I start to ask another question, but Charlie shouts my name from behind the bar. After waving him off, I turn back to Blake. “I need to get back to work.”
He swirls his shot glass around, eyeing it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I’ll wait.”
Because I know there’s nothing I can do to free the glass from his hand, I walk away without trying. Tomorrow morning, or even trying to get him home tonight, is going to be a challenge.
I busy myself with drink orders and bussing tables. As the night wears on, my pockets fill with cash, and the room slowly begins to empty.
“I barely got to talk to you tonight,” Dana remarks as she helps me clear my last table.
“My last night would be the busiest. At least Charlie hasn’t had time to convince me to stay, because with all the cash in my pocket, he’d have a good chance.”
She laughs. “Maybe I should go tell him because I’m a selfish bitch, and I want you to stay.”
Narrowing my eyes at her, I say, “You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t test me.”
“Closing time, ladies! Let’s get this place cleaned up so I can get to bed!” Charlie yells across the room.
As I turn with a full tray in my hand, I notice Blake’s still sitting in the back corner. He looks like shit—slouched shoulders, head buried in his hands.
“You still up for a couple drinks?” Dana asks, coming up behind me.
I look back at Blake, slumped over, and my conscience pulls at me. “I need to get him home. Can I get a rain check?”
She sighs. “Need me to give you a ride?”
“If you don’t mind. I don’t think he’s up for the walk.”
“Get him moving. I’m going to grab our coats and clock us out,” she says, taking the full tray from my hands.
I walk to him slowly, like I might wake an angry un-caged lion if I make a sound. His head comes up, but then slumps forward again.
Upon closer inspection, I note the liquor bottle is empty. I’ll be lucky if he can even walk his ass out of here. “Blake,” I say softly.
He lifts his eyes but nothing more.
“Let’s get you home.” I cradle his elbow in my hands, but he’s almost twice my size. Unless I suddenly get Superman’s powers, this isn’t going to work.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
“Here,” Dana says, bumping her shoulder against mine.
I pull my coat from her arm and quickly throw it on. “I’m going to need some help with him,” I admit.
“You take one arm, I’ll grab the other. My car is right out back.”
“Don’t need help,” Blake mutters, rubbing his fingers along his forehead.
I sigh, anticipating what’s ahead as Dana and I each grab hold of one of his arms. “Let’s get you home and into bed.”
“Only if you’re coming to bed with me, Lemon Drop,” he stutters, trying to hold himself up. I ignore him; he won’t remember any of this a few minutes anyway.
We sneak out back without more than a simple goodbye to Charlie.
Blake shifts between carrying some of his weight and being completely dead weight. Almost too much for two girls coming off a long shift.
“She’s not coming,” Blake remarks when he catches his first glimpse of Dana.
“She’s driving.”
He grumbles. I swear to God if he gets sick, I’m going to kill him. “I mean . . . she’s not sleeping with me. It’s just you and me now, baby.”
I don’t reply because there’s no reason to. I manage to keep him on his feet while Dana opens the back door. My intention was to lay him down inside, but he won’t let go.
“Blake.”
His cold fingers tighten around mine. I give up, climbing in behind him. His head rests on my lap. On instinct, my fingers tangle in his hair. When you care about someone, even if it’s the crazy way I feel for Blake, you want to take care of them when they’re hurting.
In the short ride to our apartment, he drifts off. It gives me a chance to reflect on the last twenty-four hours. On exposed secrets. Truths still unspoken. The heartbreak it caused. When it’s all said and done, it’s going to be the things I still don’t know that determine the outcome of this. Of us.
Dana pulls in front of our building, shifting the car into park. “Umm, has an elevator been installed since the last time I was here?”
I groan, not having thought about how I’m going to get him up the stairs until now. “Unfortunately, no.”
She crawls out, coming to open my door. “You know this is going to suck, don’t you?”
“Yep,” I answer, carefully lifting his head from my lap.
I start to climb out but not before Blake grabs hold of my wrist. “Wait for me. I got this.”
With doubt, I step out onto the curb and wait. He’ll probably fall flat on his face the second his foot hits the ground, but it’s not like I’m going to be able to pull him from the car when he’s like this.