The Middleman | ongoing

12 | you pronounced blessing wrong

12 | you pronounced blessing wrong

Song: Cool Girl by Tove Lo

Depicted Above: Bree Turner as Angela Dalton

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I called shotgun and stumbled to the car, hopping in even though there really was no point as I wasn't competing for the passenger seat with anyone. A few minutes into the ride with his eyes on the road, he tossed me a water bottle accompanied with a, "Drink up."

Unfortunately, my inebriated body was too sluggish and with a thwap my face caught the Ozarka instead of my hands. Nice. While my sober self had impeccable hand-eye coordination skills, the hammered version of me proved quite the opposite.

I rubbed my face. "Fuck you, Carter. I just keep getting hurt with you around. Would've been better off in the club."

In response, he snorted and rolled his eyes while steering, "Psh, yeah like you would've been safer. Half the guys were perving on you. Who knows what would've happened if any of them tried anything on you..." he trailed off in a sharp annoyed tone, his eyes hardened and set on the road ahead of him.

"I could'd taken them." The brazen words tumble out of my mouth before I even know what I'm saying.

They're no where close to true. 

I had no chance with a water bottle. 

What were my odds with a human then?

 If anything had happened, I wouldn't have been able to protect myself. I was feeling a lot more grateful that I had stumbled into a guy like Quinn tonight who had offered to take me home.  

Quinn simply raises an eyebrow. I'm not worth arguing against.

God, did I need to go home. I wanted to crash and pass out on my bed. I was so done for the day, and my headache was still in the background of everything. Pulsating. Always constantly reminding me of its presence.

Taking gulps of water, I searched my wristlet trying to worm out my keys, but I found everything but the keys to my place. Just the panic of not finding them was enough to sober me up a little bit.

Fuck. That's right, the girls and I were going to crash at Sabrina's as the Dalton's were out besides Caleb. The keys were at Sabrina's place. Ugh. They'd probably be searching everywhere for me, too. I mentally groaned not because I had loyal friends who wanted me safe but because I was way too tired to deal with this.

I quickly sent a vague I'm-okay-explain-later text on our group convo as I had that much sense to inform them of at least that. I'm sure it barely looked like English with the amount of misspellings it contained. I'd fill them in later when I wasn't so out of it.

"Quinn, I don't have my keys. I came with the girls." What the hell was I gonna do? More like where the hell was I gonna crash for the night?

Without a word, he took a U-turn, and the car was headed in the opposite direction.

Was he going to drop me off back at the club?

He didn't seem like the type to drop someone in their time of need as from what he was slowly unraveling to me little by little.

"Where are we going?" My voice was dry and a little weary. I was scared for what the answer could be.

"To the nursing home..." he deadpanned. I gulped, confused as fuck. Was nursing home code for like a freezer where you keep dead bodies? Fucking hell. I was right. This shit was a murderer after all. My eyes widened, taking in the situation. "Where else do you think?" he questioned after a pause, "My place," he casually answered.