If You Met Me First

.... Not Tonight

The tiny front lawn was empty. No truck parked across the half dead grass. Aniston breathed a sigh of relief as she realized she would be able to gather her things in peace and leave without a confrontation. She left her Tahoe running the driveway, running down the little path to the front door. It was unlocked, sparing her from the struggle of finding the right key to open it. 

Aniston jetted through the dark living room and down the hallway to their bedroom, flicking on the light. She grabbed her weekend bag from the bottom of her side of the closet and grabbing things off hangers, stuffing as much as she could in. Almost all of the furniture belonged to her, but Jake could have it for all she cared. Nothing was of sentimental value. After what felt like an eternity, and several glances out the widow when headlights would dance along the beige walls, she was packed. Aniston stood at the door way with her bag slung over her shoulder, surveying the room. Her light honey colored landing on Brantley's hat sitting on her bed side table. She walked over and grabbed it, running her thin fingers over the brim. It still smelled of cedar and smoke, her favorite scent. 

Aniston turned off the light with the switch against the wall and picked up the pace to get out of the house as fast as she could. As she was shutting the front door, a pair of headlights blinded her. A pair of dark eyes staring at her from behind the wheel. So much for peace. She swallowed hard, racking her brain for an excuse as to why she had a bag packed to the brim. 

"Going somewhere?" His voice cutting through her like a chill from the cold Winter months. His words slurred together. Great, she thought. He was drunk. 

"I am just going over to Sara's." She lied. Sara, her co-worker, was always the scape goat. Jake was never the wiser to ask Sara about all the times Aniston stayed with her. And Sara would happily tell a little white if she ever had to. 

"Not tonight." Jake walked over to her, leaving the door to his truck open. He nearly tripped over his own work boots that were untied. The smell of alcohol wafting behind him like the stench coming off a pig. Which was exactly what he was. 

"I promised her I would help her with a project for the store." Aniston spoke up, trying to find her confidence. If she wavered at all, he would know. 

"I said, not tonight." Jake replied through gritted teeth. He placed a hand on her bare shoulder, running his thumb over her tanned skin. Aniston closed her eyes at his touch, cringing that it was anyone but Brantley with his hand on her. 

"Jake, I really need to go." Her voice firm, pulling herself away from his grasp. Jake growled at the feel of her ripping herself away from him. Aniston booked it to her Tahoe, thanking her lucky stars that she had left it running. Jake stalked toward her at an alarming pace. She threw her bag across the seat and shut the door quickly, hitting the black lock button along the door panel. 

Jake pounded his fist on her window, begging her to open the door. Aniston put the vehicle in reverse, dirt and rocks kicking up as he tires spun. She successfully backed out on to Main Street, putting the shifter in to drive as fast as her little hands could. She took off, doing well over the speed limit through their little town. Aniston frantically checked her rear view mirror, sending prayers to the God above that Jake wouldn't take off after her.