Losers In Love ❁ d.j.h

• chapter thirty eight •

"What do you think this one's saying?" Sinead whispered into her best friend's side as she held onto her drink.

Normani stared at the ground with her eyebrows drawn in tightly. From an outsider's perspective, the brunette was glaring at her shoes. But from Sinead's perspective, Normani wasn't there. She hadn't been since they left the car, since they walked in, or for the last five art pieces. In all of their years of friendship, she'd seen Tasha maybe twice. It was difficult to pick the woman out of a lineup. But her voice was unmistakable because of the expression it always gave Normani.

The brunette's lips were pursed in thought as her best friend nudged her again. "Normani?"

"Hm?" Her eyebrows raised but her gaze didn't. After an uneventful fifteen seconds, she finally lifted her head. "Sorry, what? Oh, um, yeah, it's... Interesting."

Sinead gave her a flat look. "You weren't even listening."

The brunette's shoulders hung. "I'm sorry. I'm just thinking." She looked around the art show.

There were people hugging the walls in groups, laughter, low music, and solo cups. It was a poor excuse for a party under the guise of showing art. Aside from the two best friends, people were seldomly looking.

"Thinking about what?"

The young woman refused to answer. Instead, she gave her friend a once over, her eyes stopping at the bottle in her hands. She eyed it once before looking away and then eyeing it again.

"Hey, can I... Can I have some of that?"

Sinead narrowed her own as she held up her bottle slightly. "It's just ginger beer. I'm driving, remember?"

"Yeah, we both are." Normani remarked. "I don't understand how you can drink that. I'm gonna go see if I can find something else."

"Okay. Want me to come with you?"

"No, it's okay."

The black woman walked off in the direction of where she vaguely remembered seeing a kitchen. An art show in a house was both brilliant and terrifying. She didn't even want to think about who would be cleaning up the mess in the morning.

Aside from the refrigerator, there were red and blue coolers on the ground. Normani opened all her options until her eyes landed on the only thing there that wasn't beer — a white claw. She pursed her lips as she lifted the can to her eyes. Lemon and five percent alcohol. Huh.

She'd never even had a drop of alcohol before. After the night she had, she understood why people always made comments about needing some. No one knew what it was like to have a mother you only hear from once a year. To worry about whether she's even alive and wondering if this birthday will be the last time you hear from her. And then to finally get a call that feels just like last year because she's drunk?

The brunette flipped the pull tab until she heard the clunk of the can.

She could always put it down. Leave it for someone else and pretend like she wasn't going to make the decision she was feeling impulsive about. Maybe her entire life would change over one sip and maybe it wouldn't. Could it hurt to find out?

She stared at the can. Read over the ingredients as if burning it into her brain would make a difference. Five percent alcohol and lemon. Alcohol mixed with seltzer. Maybe she wouldn't even taste anything and it would just taste like sparkling water. Not that that would be any better, but still.