Pepper never meant to lose her best friend. Lucas never meant to fall in love.
Yet the aftermath of broken hearts leads them to blur the lines of their friendship forever. When Pepper is dumped by her boyfriend and Lucas is led on by his crush, they...
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I SHOULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN DRUNK. I know that. I regretted the entire process and was telling myself not to be tempted by Dad's stash of liquor. Though the grieving side of me didn't necessarily care. The moment Cory left in an emotional storm, temptation greeted me with a sinister smile.
He said 'stop smoking'. He didn't mention anything about alcohol.
I cried for about thirty-minutes while debating over whether or not one shot would do any real damage. Just one. After the reassuring burn eased down my throat and the edge of my anxiety was claimed, I knew I needed at least one more. Then two more and three until I'd finished almost the entire bottle.
Then I was being punched in the face by Mason.
Under the scalding water showering above me, I rub my sore cheekbone and wince. Not only is my head throbbing from the impact, but my entire cheek is aching and swelling. He hits damn hard. I'm surprised I'm still conscious after that blow. Though I'm more suprised it didn't come a lot sooner. I thought Pepper would have told everyone about what happened between us by now.
Now I know that she hasn't accepted what I did to her that night.
Above it all, I can't believe she's here.
My lungs constrict and I lower my head under the running water. Hot droplets attempt to clear my intoxication and place reason into my mind. I haven't seen her face in so long. It hurts to even look at her now. A face that was once so vibrant and caring is now shrouded in fear and agony. Pain that I've brought to her.
I have no clue what I'm going to say. I know continuously apologizing won't solve anything, but I have been dying to speak to her ever since we fell to ruins. Times like now, I wish I had a reverse button. I'd stop myself from ever sleeping with her to begin with. Or even the point where she didn't want to date me, I should have listened. I should have and I didn't. Now everything she was afraid of and worse has happened. I've destroyed us. I've destroyed her.
Once I'm sober enough to hold a sensible conversation, I step out of the shower and get back in the same clothes as before. When I return downstairs, Mason is gone and Pepper is pacing in the living room.
At this moment, as I watch her burn a trail of fire in the carpet as she paces like she's isolated with a wanted criminal, I wonder who's anxiety is worse. Hers or mine?
When she notices me at the bottom of the stairs, the universe freezes and she is motionless. Under the weak lighting brought by a single lamp next to the sofa, I can see her eyes widen and exact the moment fear strikes them.
She's scared to be alone with me.
Vomit surges to the back of my throat. Throbbing pains bounce off the sides of my skull either from drinking, crying, being punched in the face, or all three. I inch across the distance. As I do, she backs away, giving me far more space than even the largest man would need to enter the living room. I sit on the far end of the sofa. She sits in the armchair next to it, far away from me.
