Sex in a Coffee Shop

Bonus Chapter

Lots of people on Inkitt were asking me what happens to Clark! So here is a chapter about how he's doing.
**************************

"Sorry buddy, that's the last one."

I groaned and ran my hands through my messy hair. "Come on, what's a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?" I slurred. The bartender shook his head and walked away, flinging a towel over his shoulder. What a prick. Why does he get to decide when someone's had enough? The alcohol was never enough though.

I stood, stumbling slightly over the leg of the barstool. Behind me, a pair of gentle hands rested on my shoulder. "You ok there? Need a hand?" A soft voice asked. I turned around and tried to focus on what I was seeing.

"Cami?" I asked, hope fluttering through my chest. I blinked once and she disappeared. Before me stood a women with lighter skin and light brown hair. Her eyes were green and were looking at me with confusion.

"No sorry, my name's Darcy. Do you need me to call you a cab?" I shook my head and turned, trying my hardest to put one foot in front of the other and not dive head first to the floor.

It had been like this for months. Everywhere I turned I could see her. A flash of dark hair on the subway, a soft tinkly laugh in the store, even though I knew it couldn't be her. And everyday my regret at what I'd done grew. I shuffled to the street corner, doing my drunken best to hail a cab. One stopped and I managed to spit out my address, resting my head against the seat the whole way. When we stopped I paid the man and walked as best as I could to the door. I fumbled with the keys, dropping them. "Damnit!" I cursed loudly, reaching for the keys and fumbling them again.

Luckily the door swung open and I closed my eyes against the bright light. "He's here, drunk, as usual," the familiar voice washed over me and I could feel the disappointment washing over me.

Her arm grabbed me and pulled me forward into the house. "Hey ma, what're you doin up so late?" I slurred as I took in my moms terry cloth robe and slippers.

"Just watching the news to make sure you didn't end up dead in a bar fight," came an angry and authoritative voice from the kitchen. My stomach churned. My dad strode into the room, his physic tall and broad, intimidating.

"Sorry to dissapointed dad," I said holding my arms open wide, "still alive."

His lip curled as he sneered at me. "You're such a waste. I'm going to bed." He turned and headed up the stairs, stomping his feet loudly like I used to do when I was being punished. The thought made me want to giggle but I was still processing his words.

A waste. That's me.

My mom put her hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the kitchen. She plopped me on a barstool before turning to push buttons on her fancy coffee maker. As that ran she turned and leaned forward on the counter top, looking back at me with my same blue eyes.

"Listen Clark, you can't keep doing this." I could hear the exhaustion and frustration in her voice. "Coming in at all hours of the night, usually drunk. This has to stop. I know it's been a rough few months with you loosing your job." I swallowed loudly, my mouth feeling extremely dry. "We gave you a place to live while you sorted your life out. Son, this isn't how you do it." She reached out and rested her hand on my forearm.

I shrugged it off and stared down at the marble counter top. The lines were wiggling and I had to blink a few times. Mom sighed and slid a mug of coffee in front of me. She rounded the corner and dropped a kiss on my head. "I'm going to bed. Figure it out son."

As her steps receding I took a scalding gulp of coffee. What was there to figure out? I'd finally found a place a belonged... a person who I belonged to. And I'd decided to put my career first and fuck it all up. I ran my hands through my hair roughly before resting my head on the cool counter. My eyes felt heavy as my dads words rang through my head. Me: a waste.