Taylor

Chapter Five

When I awoke the next day my head was pounding. Opening two bottles in one night was not a usual thing for me. I sat up and rubbed my face, my thoughts going to the previous night. I cursed and grabbed my phone to check the time, which was 1:57 PM.

"Oh no," I moaned, jumping out of bed and getting dressed. I was supposed to get Luke early this morning. I left the house and practically ran down the street, knocking on the Petersons' door. A few seconds went by before the door opened to an irritated Luke. I was extremely relieved to find him there and okay.

"Dude, I'm sorry. I... I guess I didn't set my alarm clock."

The creases in his forehead deepened as he wrinkled his nose. "You reek of alcohol," he said, pushing me back so he could come outside.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, ignoring his comment.

The irritation disappeared from Luke's face, replaced with a strange sympathetic sadness that instantly irritated me.

"Don't look at me like that," I told him. "I don't need your sympathy. I said I'm sorry." I stepped off his porch and went back home.

I said sorry and that's all I needed to do, not stand there and watch him pity me. I plopped down on my couch and stared at the wall. A couple minutes later, my front door opened and Luke stepped inside.

"Yeah, I have sympathy for you. But not in a judgy-condemny way. I don't know what all you went through, but clearly it was a lot. No matter what happened, you have my support and my ear any time you need it. And you are a good person despite what your inner self tells you."

"Yeah, you don't know what happened. So you acting like you know I'm a good person is stupid. I can't be your friend, Luke. Okay? I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to take you to your appointments. I don't want to hang out with you."

He stared at me with a blank expression on his face. I waited for him to say something or do something, but nothing happened. He didn't look mad or hurt. He didn't yell or cry. He just looked at me for a few seconds before turning around and walking out, leaving me suddenly feeling lonelier than I had ever felt.

I leaned back on the couch, my eyes drifting to the wall across from me that held the paint samples. I needed to hurry up and fix the house so I could get out of this place. I sat up. I could get the house done even quicker if I got a job. Sure, I got plenty of money from the military, but I wanted to save up to buy my own place, not spend it all trying to fix this one. If I got a job, all that money could go to fixing the house up.

I smiled. Plus it would give me something to do. Pulling out my phone, I searched jobs in the area and began applying for everything I qualified for.

#

Sighing in exacerbation, I fell onto my bed. After a week, I had only had two interviews—the rest of my applications had been ignored—and neither interviews seemed to have gone that well. How was I going to find a job with no actual job experience? Apparently risking your life for your country wasn't enough to get you hired. I rubbed my face and got back up. I needed a drink. Unfortunately, the closest bar to get plastered at was Luke's, which was walking distance, meaning I wouldn't need to drive or get a Taxi. But would he really want me there? Of course, money was money. And if I went there, I would be supporting Luke in a way.

Making my decision, I headed to his bar. Neither the bouncer nor Sabrina seemed happy to see me. I went up to the bar and sat down, waiting for Sabrina to stop pretending to be busy. Eventually, she came over and looked at me.

"What can I get you to drink?"

"About the other night...." I trailed off awkwardly. I didn't really want to apologize to her, but I also didn't want it to be weird to come to the one bar by my house. Luckily, I didn't have to say anything.