My clothing was wet with the unidentifiable liquid that covered the bathroom floor. Nothing had changed during my 10 scarring minutes. The bar was still filled with the obnoxious sounds of drunk humans, but this time I didn't find it enjoyable.
"Let's just get a drink" I said dejectedly. Parker playfully shoved me.
"How do you always get in trouble?" she said, snorting.
I rolled my eyes at her and turned to the stupid, stoned bartender I had to deal with earlier.
"One Moscow Mule and a Tom Collins," I said proudly. Parker looked at me, confusion ringing through her eyes.
"Thought I didn't know anything about alcohol?" I teased.
"I thought you were from this decade," she joked back.
As I looked into her face grinning face, I realized something was missing.
"Where are Rowan and Hayden?" I said, my heart beat faster as I ran through all the possibilities in my head.
"Clam down, Rowan went home because she wasn't feeling well, and Hayden went too." I leaned against the bar, taking deep breaths as if I had just choked on something.
"I don't know why their relationship bothers me so much. I'm trying not to care, but I care so much," I said, my eyes filled with tears for the second time that night.
"One One Moscow Mule and a Tom Collins," said the oily stoned bartender, lazily pushing our drinks toward us.
"I know it's annoying sometimes, but you just have to suck it up," said Parker, gently pushing my shoulder
"To being single," I said, picking up my awfully smelling glass.
"To being single," Parker echoed, then we drank.
YOU ARE READING
Potholes
General FictionNothing ever seems to happen in Holland, Michigan. The same applies to teenagers Eva, Parker, and Rowan. In search of adventure, they journey across the country in Parker's parents' super classy minivan, but not with out some bumps along the way. Fr...
