by Anne Jolin
Beth finished a while ago, given that her hair is much shorter, so she is now sitting on a black, leather couch, flipping through a magazine. “Who’s going tonight?” she asks. Beth asks this every time we go out. We never hang out with different people, so I’m not sure why she always feels the need to ask.
“The usual,” I say, meaning that Jami, Jay, the three of us, and Greyson would meet us there after he finishes with work.
“I wonder if Jami’s going to bring that girl he’s been seeing,” Beth wonders out loud to herself.
I cast a sideways glance towards Lennon and see her tense up. Shit. I completely forgot the possibility that Jami would bring his new girl thing or whatever to the bar. I don’t like to call them his girlfriends even though he does because they rarely ever last longer than a few weeks. This girl has been going on a month now, and that is a record.
“Probably not,” I answer and pray that I’m right. Otherwise, tonight is going to suck hardcore for my best friend.
We finish up at the salon, grab Greek takeout on the way home, and eat around the coffee table. I’m not even sure why we have a kitchen table. We never use it. We’re either eating at the breakfast bar or the coffee table. I think we might have used it once when my parents came over when we first bought the place, but that is the only occasion I can remember.
After dinner, we all sit on Beth’s bed while she roots through her closet, suggesting outfits. She has always been the fashionista of our little group. She chooses a violet-purple dress for herself and pairs it with metallic pumps. She chooses a black, ribbed, tube-top dress for Lennon that fits her like a glove, and after some serious begging, Beth manages to convince Lennon to wear it with the red high heels she got her for Christmas last year. My sister is persistent as all hell.
Lastly, for me, she chooses a deep-green, silk dress that ties behind my neck, leaving most of my back exposed, and flows loosely, stopping halfway down my thigh. It is a little more risqué than I’d usually go with, but even I’ll admit that I look hot. The green brilliantly complements to my hair, and when I add the nude pumps, my legs look like they go on for miles. Greyson is going to love it.
We are meeting at the bar at nine, and it is only eight, so we sit around in the kitchen and have a beer. Normally, we’d be pre drinking with tequila, but as a party rule, you’re never supposed to be more drunk that the person having their birthday. And seeing as we don’t know how far gone the boys will be, we decide to ease into our evening. Greyson texted saying he would likely be there around ten, and I am excited for him to see me all dolled up. The cab arrives at a quarter to nine, and a little while later, we are walking into the bar.
Bill’s is already packed, as is expected on a Saturday night in June. It is warm out, and none of us need a coat, so we made our way straight inside. Jami mentioned that he’s reserved one of the larger booths in the back, and we found them quickly. Uh oh. We better keep Lennon off the whiskey tonight, I think to myself when I see the perky blonde tucked under Jami’s arm in the booth. Whiskey makes Lennon a little unpredictable, and with the jealousy that’s already burning in her eyes, I’d likely be pulling her off that poor girl if she gets into the Jack. I reach out and squeeze her arm. She doesn’t look at me, but I know she knows that I’m here for her if she needs me.
Jami makes his way out of the booth and all of us girls almost tackle him to the floor in a hug. I give him a kiss on the cheek and wish him a happy birthday before moving to greet the rest of the table. I say an awkward hello to Jami’s girlfriend—awkward because I don’t remember her name. Jay gives me a big hug, and I scoot into the booth beside him, the girls following suit. We order a round of tequila shots, and it’s a good thing that the girl whose name I can’t remember is so engrossed on pawing Jami because she doesn’t notice the invisible daggers flying into the back of her skull. I can see that Lennon’s jaw is clenched, and if looks could kill, that blondie would be dead. Our second round of shots shows up and my best friend knocks hers back before anyone’s even picked up their glass. Oh boy. Tonight is not going to be pretty.
We’ve been here for a little over twenty minutes when I see a familiar face coming through the crowd. Jackson. I didn’t expect to see him because Jami had said that he was out of town and wouldn’t be able to make it. Thus I didn’t mention the possibility of him showing up to Greyson either. Jackson gives Jami one of those bromancy hugs that guy’s do these days and then pulls up a stool to sit down.
“Hey, guys,” he says, and his eyes look clearer than the last time I saw him here, when he was almost passing out in his drink.
I hoped for him that this meant he was doing better. Despite how everything went down, he deserved to be happy. Everyone takes their turn welcoming him, myself included, and we get back to whatever dirty joke Jay is busy telling. Some hockey joke about Jesus or something. I’m sure it was inappropriate. They always are with Jay.
At the rate the shots are flowing, we’ve all got a solid buzz going by the time ten rolls around. I check my phone to see if Greyson has called, but he hasn’t. Beth and Lennon slide out of the booth to use the restroom, and Jackson slides in beside me.
“Hey, you. How are things?” he asks quietly enough so only I can hear.
“I’m doing really well, actually.” I smile brightly. “How are you? You look better.”
“I feel better,” he says and motions to the beer bottle in front of me. “I quit drinking, so that’s been helping.” As he says it, I think back and realize that I haven’t seen him have a drink all night.
“Good for you, Jackson. I’m happy for you.” And I mean it.
“Jami says you’ve been seeing Greyson…”
It’s not really any of his business, but for the sake of putting him in his place, I answer anyway. “Yes, for about six months now. He should be here any minute,” I say, scanning the crowd for him.
I’m still looking for Greyson when I feel Jackson’s hand on my shoulder. It’s not in a sexual way. It’s meant to be a kind gesture. “Are you happy?” he questions, looking me right in the eye.
“The happiest.” It’s not meant to be a dig at Jackson in any way, but he asked and it’s the truth.
“Then I couldn’t be happier for you, Hannah. I know we never really got a chance to talk about everything that happened between us, but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry I put you through that.” He leans closer so I can hear him as a louder song comes on. “You deserved better than that and I should have let you go a long time ago. I know things can’t be the same for us, but I miss my friend. I hope you can understand that.”
I return his smile and put my hand on top of his on my shoulder. “Thank you for that, Jackson. It wasn’t all bad, and I miss my friend too.” This feels like closure, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
I know that I didn’t do anything wrong when I left him, but to hear him say it out loud for the first time ever is exactly what I needed to hear. This is it. With this small conversation, I can tell that we are at peace. I still need to work on the issues I developed during our relationship. It drained me emotionally, but as for the two of us, I feel like we can finally start to rebuild some semblance of a friendship again.
Jackson leans in to give me a hug when, all of a sudden, he’s ripped from the booth by his shirt.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jackson?” Greyson booms. He looks fucking livid, and he has Jackson by the back of his shirt. They are fairly evenly matched, but I wouldn’t want anyone to go head to head with the rage in Greyson’s eyes. Before Jackson can even answer, Greyson’s fist connects with his jaw.
Jackson puts his hands up in surrender and starts to shake his head, blood dripping from his split lip. “We were just talking, man. Calm down.” I know he’s trying to deflate the situation, but his words seem to do nothing.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again!” He’s attracted the attention of the other people in the bar, and I’m so emb
arrassed. He’s completely overreacting. “She’s mine now. Do you understand me?” He’s shaking Jackson now.
“Cool it, Greyson,” Jami says, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Stay out of it, Jami,” Jay says, pulling his hand away. He must notice that Greyson looks ready to snap too. “This doesn’t involve you.”
“I said do you fucking understand me, asshole?” Greyson shouts, his face less than two inches from Jackson’s now, and when he pulls back his fist like he’s going to hit him again, I fly out of the booth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Greyson?” I scream and shove my way to stand between the two men. At least, in my high heels, I’m closer to their eye level than I would usually be.
He doesn’t answer me, just continues to glare at Jackson over top of my head.
I place my palms firmly on Greyson’s chest and push. “Let it fucking go! He’s not even fighting you back. You’re acting like a jerk!” I say, pushing his chest again.
“Maybe I should go,” I hear Jackson say from behind me, and I spin on my heel quickly to face him.
“No. This is Jami’s birthday. You are one of his best friends. You’re not going anywhere. You should stay and enjoy whatever is salvageable of this night.” My temper has gone from a simmer to a boil and I’m ready to lay into Greyson, but I won’t do it in front of all these people and ruin Jami’s night. “You,” I say, pointing at Greyson. “Outside.”
He doesn’t move. He’s still just standing there like some macho jackass with a point to prove.
“Outside, Greyson, NOW!” I’m shouting now.
He turns on his heel and starts to walk out of the bar. I let the girls know that I’ll be back and stalk after him. When I get outside, I see him leaning against the wall.
Before I can even open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, he looks up and glares at me. “You let him fucking touch you. You let him fucking touch you and you probably liked it!” he shouts in my face, and any chance I had at keep a lid on my rage is long gone.
My fists are clenching and unclenching at my sides. “I’m going to give you one chance, Greyson. One chance to take that back,” I say through gritted teeth.
“No fucking way! I saw the way you were looking at him. You fucking wanted each other.”
That is it. All I saw is red.
“You listen here, you fucking jackass. I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died, but this shit is fucking ridiculous! You’re acting like an overgrown ape.” He goes to speak, but I cut him off with my hand. “Oh no! Don’t you dare! You had your chance to talk and nothing but a pile of shit came spewing out of your mouth. So now you’re going to listen to me!” My chest is heaving with exertion and I can feel my heart beating in my head. “What you saw was us having closure. What you saw was me being able to make peace with a broken part of me, a broken part of me that you healed. Or at least you had until you came barreling in there with whatever the fuck kind of alpha-male bullshit that was! I don’t love him. I don’t want him. You’re the only one I fucking want.” I’m pushing my finger into his chest now. “You need to get a grip, Greyson. I said I’d fight for you, but I sure as shit am not going to stand around and be a punching bag for you to work out your insecurities.”
“Hannah, I—”
I put my hand up, cutting him off again. “We’re done talking about this tonight, Greyson. I’m going back inside to celebrate my friend’s birthday—that is if there’s anything left of it—and you’re going to go home.”
“But, sweetheart, I can—”
“Don’t sweetheart me. Don’t use that now because you know you fucked up. Go home. I’m too pissed off to talk about this anymore. I’ll call you in the morning.” I turn to walk away, and he grabs my elbow.
“You said you missed him. I saw you.” All the fight has left his body and he looks defeated.
“I did,” I say honestly over my shoulder. “I miss my friend, Greyson. I don’t miss my lover. You’re the only one for me now. I love you, but you need to go home and figure out if you can handle that.” With that, I turn on my heel and make my way back inside the bar.
I hope Jami didn’t get in trouble. I would feel absolutely terrible if I ruined his birthday. I know he wouldn’t care and he’d never be angry with me, but I still feel bad. The blood is still pumping quickly through my body as I’m trying to settle down. I’m pushing my way through the crowd, almost to the table when a girl comes barreling past me, almost knocking me on the ass. I go to yell at her to watch where she’s going, but when I notice who it is, I stop. Jami’s girlfriend thing—or whatever she is—is barreling through the bar headed toward the exit. Well, fuck me. Now what’s going on?
I shove my way through the rest of the crowd and stop short when I see what’s unfolding in front of our table. It is now Jami who has some poor bastard by the scruff of the neck, and the bouncer is trying to pull Jami off of him.
As I get closer, I can hear the bouncer say, “You need to go. This whole group, all of you. You need to leave.” Jami doesn’t seem to be going anywhere willingly, and as if finally just realizing that his friend is going too far, Jay steps in.
“That’s fine. We will leave. C’mon, Jami. Let’s get out of here,” he says, pulling a reluctant Jami away from his sparring partner.
As we are escorted from the bar, no one says a word. The only thing Beth does is give me a wide-eyed look as if to say, “What the fuck?” We call two cabs—one for the boys and one for the girls. As we’re waiting, you can cut the tension between Lennon and Jami with a knife. What the fuck happened in there? I feel a little better that I’m not the only one who was centered around drama tonight, but at the same time, I’m worried about what happened. The first cab arrives and the boys tell us to take it. We hug them goodbye—well, everyone except Lennon and Jami hug—and we head for home.
As soon as we’re alone, Beth starts to speak. “Well, that night sure went to hell in a handbasket pretty bloody fast.” She sighs, blowing her hair off her face. She’s sitting in the middle of the cab’s backseat, eagerly looking between Lennon and me. “Well…who’s going to go first?” she says, and neither of us speaks. “Well, I’d go first, but nobody punched anyone for me tonight, so I don’t have anything exciting to say.”
“Greyson was being a macho, possessive asshat, so I told him to go home and deal with the fact that I love him.” I sigh, face-planting into my hands. Tonight was a disaster. I wasted what was arguably the hottest outfit I had on a piece-of-shit night.
Lennon lets her head slide down onto Beth’s shoulder. “Jami threw a fit when some guy I was flirting with made a joke about taking me home. He just flipped out, completely lost his shit. I’ve never seen him like that before. And then his girlfriend flipped out because he flipped out over someone touching me and not her, and then we got kicked out,” she lets out in almost one long breath.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Beth says.
Lennon and I both mumble, “What?”
“Somebody’s little barroom brawler is sitting on our front steps.”
I groan because I know it has to be Greyson. We just left Jami and Jay in town, so there’s no way they could be here by now.
I lift my head and look up at the steps, confirming my suspicions. There he is, sitting on the top stair with his head in his hands. He hears the cab pull up and stands. We pay the cab driver and get out, making our way across the driveway.
“Nice right hook, Hunnam,” Beth spouts off before unlocking the front door and going inside, Lennon trailing behind her. Fucking Beth.
I’m still standing on the bottom stair, and he’s standing on the top. We’re just staring at each other. He makes no move to speak, just runs his hand over his hair in frustration. I’m tired. I’m emotionally drained, and I don’t have it in me to hash this out with him.
“I thought I asked you to go home, Greyson. I don’t want to do this tonight.” I sigh, slipping off my heels and holding them in my hands.
<
br /> “Hannah, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says.
Well I guess we’re going to do this then, whether I want to or not.
“You’re sorry for what part, Greyson? The part where you punched someone who did nothing wrong? Or the part where you basically called me a whore? Which one of those parts are you sorry for?” I question.
He takes a step down and winces when I back down a stair to stand on the driveway. “I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry for everything I said. I just lost it when I saw his hands on you, and when you smiled at him, it felt like someone turned a knife in my heart. It’s not an excuse. I know that. But it hurt like hell, Hannah.”
“I already told you nothing was happening. We were just talking. We were even talking about you for crying out loud.” I’m not yelling or shouting now. I’m just talking. I don’t have any more energy left for fighting.
“I know. I heard what you said outside the bar. I should have stopped to think about it, but all I saw was red. I couldn’t focus on anything else. That smile is mine, Hannah. You’re mine and that scares the shit out of me,” his says, his eyes pleading.
“You can’t lash out or disappear every time you get scared, Greyson. It’s not healthy and I can’t do that kind of relationship again.”
He takes another step down, and this time, I don’t move to back away from him. “I don’t know how to do this, Hannah. I’m trying,” he says, moving down another stair. There are only three between us now.
“You need to communicate with me, Greyson. I’m not a mind reader,” I state.
“I can work on that. Can you forgive me for being a jealous asshole?” He takes two more stairs.
“Don’t make light of this, Greyson. I’m not capable of being with another man whose mood swings give me whiplash.” I’m dead serious. I know he’s trying, but a girl can only handle so much. I won’t go to that place again—not even for him.
“I’m not, sweetheart.” He reaches out and puts a finger underneath my chin, lifting it up so my eyes meet his. “I love you, Hannah. Do you forgive me?”
