Eight Letters. Three Words.

Eight Letters. Three Words - Ch. 25

Chapter Twenty Five

A Date with Tequila

Dylan Miller

Two weeks, three days, and still counting.

I once heard one of the girls from school sing; Time is twice as long for lovers, but thrice as long for those who hurt. At the time it sounded like the typical excerpt from a cheesy song. But in the end, it didn't surprise me when the lyrics turned out to be accurately right. Time doesn't heal, it numbs like a strong anesthetic. It makes the pain more bearable, but never takes it away.

"You're coming tonight, right?" asked Scott.

As I pulled on my shirt, I got the briefest glimpse of his face expression. He was worried. He had been for the past three weeks.

"I don't know."

"Come on Man!" He punched my arm lightly, trying for a grin. "Guy's night out. Alright?"

Guy's night out, the sick translation to drink all your problems away. It didn't matter, it wouldn't solve it, it would only make the ache more unbearable in the morning, and that plus a killing hangover, would drive me over the edge.

"Nah, I'll stay home. You're free to come, my parents and Dexter left for the weekend."

A locker banged closed, and I found myself being hauled by the arm, and pushed into the benches. "Tonight you are going to play the best game of your life. Whether Chloe is out there watching or not. You are going to kick some mayor ass, you are going to be Dylan Miller, and once you win the game. I will carry your sad ass to Katelyn's party, where you will dance, get drunk, stumble over her furniture, and then I will drag your drunken, sad ass back to my place." He raised his hand, as I protested. "And tomorrow morning when you're sober, you'll feel at least a little happy you haven't wasted another night of your life."

I stared at him.

"Now come on. The game starts in fifteen."

Following him outside, I tried shaking the feeling that she wouldn't be watching from the bleachers. Just like she hadn't been there for the past two games. It wasn't easy. I had half expected that after listening to her public discussion with Brendan two weeks ago, she'd forgotten whatever stupid excuses she had come up with for us to not be together. I had waited, and was still waiting. But somehow waiting seemed easier when the character in a movie or book carries it out. Time seems to pass, but we don't realize on how each second is printed into our minds.

The doors to the football pitch opened, and in file we walked into another of the many games we'd play this season. Coach Davis blew his whistle. My eyes scanned the bleachers once, twice, three times.

She hadn't come.

"Scott!" I called. He turned to look at me, raising an eyebrow in question.

"It's your turn to party sober tonight."

He smiled, and high-fived the air in a stupid way, which got me to laugh. Turns out I did have a date tonight after all. Her name was Tequila.

Chloe Foster

I closed the door to the care center, just as the distant cheering noises drilled holes in my ears. The game had officially started, and I was officially going home.

Or I would be, if Leela bothered arriving on time to pick me up for once in her life. I didn't want to be alone waiting for her, because being alone meant thinking, and thinking led to certain thoughts which I wanted to forget. But as I waited beside the door, with the wind chilling my bones, and the faint cheers from the football pitch, I closed my eyes and pictured what it'd be like...