Runnin' with the Devil

The Cheerleader

[2517 words]
~
"But Eddie—"

  You drew out the last vowel of his name in a whine and gripped his shoulder with your empty hand. He chuckled and shook his head at you as you whined, before cutting you off.

"Nope. Sorry Princess. I got a deal tomorrow pretty early and you've had plenty of these."

  He took his free hand from you and removed the bottle from your grasp. You folded your arms across your chest and pouted angrily, like a child whose mother just told them that they couldn't have a piece of candy. When he chuckled again, you huffed and threw yourself dramatically to the side and onto the couch. You landed on your side and quickly shifted to lay on your back. The quick movement of your body seemed to stir up the alcohol in your system, causing your head to spin more than it already was.

"You're no fun."

  You mumbled as you crossed your arms again, continuing your pout as he got up from the couch. He shuffled off to the kitchen and the sound of glass bottles hitting together filled your ears, signaling that he was throwing them away. Once he was back in the living room, he looked at you laying on the couch with a small smile.

"Are you gonna come lay down with me or are you gonna keep pouting and sleep on the couch?"

  He teased and you quickly shot up from the couch. Your pout was replaced with a giddy smile as he held his hand out to you. You walked over to him and took his outstretched hand which he used to pull you along to your bedroom. As soon as you walked through the door way, you wasted no time in throwing yourself onto the bed. Eddie shut off the lights as you got comfortable. You heard the soft rustling of fabric that you could tell wasn't coming from your blankets and shot a confused look into the darkness. After a moment, you felt the bed shift and Eddie pull you into his now bare chest. You quickly laid your head against him as a flush came to your face. You didn't have much time to process this as your eyes shut with a tiredness that you hadn't noticed until he had slid into bed with you. It didn't take long for you to fully succumb to sleep, the last thing you heard being a soft,

"Goodnight doll."

~

'Went to meet up with a client to do a deal and didn't wanna wake you up. Left you a glass of water and some pills for that hangover I know you have right now. Rest as much as you can baby bat. I'll see you soon.'

  The note left on your bedside table by the aforementioned water and pills was clearly written in a hurry. He must have been late to meet with his 'client.' It was sweet that he allowed you to sleep and even took the time to leave you with remedies for your splitting headache. Though, you were still a bit upset to not see him there with you when you woke up. That, paired with the fact that he had drawn open your light blocking curtains ever so slightly, which illuminated your room too much for your liking in the present moment, made you more upset then you figured you should be. You grabbed the few small pills sprawled on the table and the water, quickly downing both in succession.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, your eyes adjusted to the light and you peered at your clock. The time read 2:57. Surely he wasn't still doing that deal. Sure, in your experience, Eddie had always taken what he had dealt you, with you, but you assumed you were the only person he did that with. So, certainly he couldn't still be out. You took a moment to listen for any sign of life in the house but we're met with nothing. You sighed in frustration as you heaved yourself up off the mattress. You had quickly made the executive decision to go to his trailer. If he wasn't there by the time you got there, you figured it would be a nice surprise for him.

~

  By the time you had gotten yourself out of the zombie-like state that your hangover had put you in, gotten some food in your system, and drank a couple more glasses of water, it had gotten dark outside. You were now dressed in a baggy band-tee you dug out from the depths of your closet and a pair of ripped, dark-wash, fitted, denim jeans. You hadn't bothered fixing your hair in anyway, it remained a disheveled mess as you threw on the closest pair of shoes you could find as you scrambled out the door.