Look Back at Me (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 1)

Human After All

"And our food is ready," John said and got up.

He headed to the bar for their plates, but noticed Rhys and made a beeline for his cousin. He shook hands with the three men, and Viola saw Rhys glance at her over John's shoulder. She gave him a smile and a small wave. He nodded to her and focused on something John was saying again. Viola suddenly felt slightly sick. She shouldn't have drunk so much lager before eating. Rhys and his mates took seats near the bar, and John was back at the table with their fish cakes and salad. Viola ate unenthusiastically, listening to John telling her about the book fair. She only managed a half of her plateful when she realised she needed to leave. Her head was spinning, and the dim light and the warmth of the pub seemed suffocating. John had driven them here, but he was planning to stay at Nana's now. She didn't feel like waiting for him to finish his food and give her a lift.

She wiped her mouth with a napkin and gave him a calm smile. "John, I'm officially exhausted," she said. "I'm glad you've made so much progress tonight, but I think I might have overdone it." She took out a few bills and put them on the table. "I think I'll head to the surgery."

He, of course, offered to finish his supper quickly, and she, of course, refused.

"It's just a twenty minute walk," she said. "I've been slacking with my running recently, so it'll do me a world of good."

She rose, and he followed her example. She quickly got dressed, let him kiss her cheek, and walked to the door. On the way, she gave Rhys and his mates another polite wave.

Outside she gulped the cold crisp air, trying to fight off nausea, and then stepped into the side alleyway. She pressed her back to the wall and closed her eyes. You're drunk and close to vomiting, Viola. At your age, that's just pathetic.

Pull yourself together, open your eyes, and walk. And pray no one can see you like that.

Her knees were shaking, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks and her forehead, mindful of her mascara and eyeliner.

You won't make it, will you, Viola? You'll be sick in the middle of a street somewhere, and with your luck, some well-wishing old biddie will catch you.

She blindly fished her mobile out of her bag and opened her eyes with difficulty. He picked up after one tone.

"Rhys, I'm sorry to bother you," she started.

"What's wrong?" he interrupted her, and judging by the noise, got off his chair.

"I'm not feeling OK," she said. "I stepped out of the pub, and realised I can't walk home. And I don't want anyone to–"

"Pay for me, would you?" he said to someone near him, and she could hear he was walking. "Where are you?"

"Just turn left from the door, and I'm–"

The pub door banged, and two second later he appeared at the well-lit end of the alley.

"Vi?"

"I'm here," she said quickly and tried to straighten up.

He was in front of her a moment later, and she felt his hand lay on her shoulder. She rocked and pressed her forehead to his chest.

"I didn't want anyone to see me like that," she muttered.

"C'mon," he said softly and wrapped his arm around her. "I'll drive you."

She nodded weakly, and they made their way to his truck. He opened the door for her, and had to help her to climb in. At some point his hands lay on her waist to hoist her up, and she jolted.