Exed out

Drunk on Hatred

Just as I imagined the bar was full of all kinds of people, but it wasn't uncomfortably crowded. Jonas and I found our own table and a waitress quickly came to the rescue.

"Three shots each, please," I said adjusting the shirt I was wearing. When I looked up, Jonas was giving me an odd look. "What?"

"Oh nothing. I wouldn't want you to hold back or anything."

"It's been a rough couple of days," I grumbled.

"Yeah..." Jonas said hesitantly. "Dad told me about that Ryder guy. What a douche."

"He didn't know about Max," I said, but quickly shut my mouth. Why was I defending him?

"Still. I met him that one time, and he was a major dick to me and Lila."

"How is Lila, by the way?" I asked, purposely changing the subject while being genuinely curious about Jonas's last known girlfriend. The waitress came, quickly setting our shots down, and when I looked back up, Jonas had this weird look. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he was frowning at the table.

He swallowed before answering. "We're not together. She, uh, couldn't handle life without substances."

"I'm sorry. I won't talk about it again."

He nodded and muttered a thanks. "To our shitty lives!" Jonas said, holding up a shot. We knocked them back, I winced at the pain, and Jonas pushed his other two shots towards me. "Go wild," he encouraged me unexpectedly.

I raised my eyebrows but didn't hesitate to down a few more.

•

An hour later, I was feeling it and loving the bar more than ever. Jonas was sitting at our table talking a guy he went to high school with–typical small town reunion–while I had met a group of people who asked me to play pool with them. I vaguely remembered one of the girls–her name was something like Stacy or Storie. I think she was the prom queen from a few years before my senior year, and I actually snorted when I realized I was right and that she was drinking in a bar while wearing a shirt that read Luna's Family Restaurant. She was a damn waitress.

Once I had won my third game, along with fifty bucks (I had two brothers and a pool table in the basement growing up), I decided to use my money and buy a vodka soda. I skipped through the bar, weaving through the growing masses of people, and bounced up to the bar.

"One vodka soda, please," I chirped.

"Sure thing," a guy called back, and I froze in my spot.

I looked up to only see his back, but I knew it was him. I knew the way he stood, the way he carried himself. It was him. I was sure of it, which is why when he turned and looked at me, his face dropping at the sight of me, I turned and bolted. It was stupid of me to run because it was so crowded in the bar, I was drunk, and he obviously had the advantage of being sober and more athletic than I ever was.

I heard Calum mutter a curse and drop the glass he was holding, heard it shatter against the floor, before I glanced behind me to see him fucking hurtle himself over the counter of the bar. I was smart enough in my drunken state to weave through people, making it harder for him to catch me, and maybe he let me, but I made it outside before I felt his seemingly always-warm hands grab my upper arm and pull me to a stop.

"B, stop," he grunted as I thrashed around trying to get out of his grip. He grabbed my other wrist to help keep me still and pulled me into his chest.

"Don't call me that. Fucking let go!"

"If I let you go, do you promise not to run away?"