“Do I look like someone who gets mean?” I asked in my sweetest voice, flashing him a full bright smile and batting my thick, black lashes.
“No ma’am, you certainly don’t,” the bartender answered. His eyes made their way from my face down to my cleavage that was pressed up against the bar and spilling from the top of my tight black dress. He poured two more shots, handing me one and then shooting one back for himself. “Happy New Year’s, Darlin’,” he drawled. “That last one was one me, but that’ll be twelve dollars for the other two.”
“See that guy over there,” I said pointing to Him, “the one in the blue shirt and tan boots.” The bartender was nodding his head and looking in the direction of my pointed finger. “Put em’ on His tab…for the rest of the night,” I said, before grabbing my rum and diet coke from earlier and sliding off of the barstool.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. The tequila and rum finally started to take effect, and I was feeling like I could pass out or throw up at any moment. I heard people shouting and gathering around the flat screens hanging above the bar, and then I felt a hand grab my wrist and pull me in the direction of the commotion. “We’re actually going to get to watch the ball drop this year,” He shouted over the noise of the countdown. The swift movement was making me dizzy and my skin was starting to burn from where He was tugging at it. I yanked my wrist back to ease the tension, but His hold was too tight. “Quinn, come on. You’re slowing us down and I don’t want to miss it. Look, all of our friends are already over there,” He pointed in the direction of the bar.
“What friends?! I shouted over the chaos. “All of our friends are back home at The Pasture,” I slurred. He either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me, but either way, He continued dragging me across the room until we were next to…our “friends.”
People were chanting; five, four, three, two… Before they even reached one He pulled me into Him and kissed me hard on my tequila soaked mouth, but I didn’t feel it. My lips had gone numb and I could no longer feel my tongue or teeth. I needed to lie down, or at the very least, sit down, but I was being shoved from the side and behind by the crowd of people all trying to either retreat back into the dining area or order new drinks from the bar.
“Happy New Year’s, Sweetheart, and happy anniversary!” He shouted before planting another unfelt kiss on my lips.
“You too,” I replied once He released my mouth, and then shoved my way through the crowd and over to the large sofa to take a seat. I freed my feet from the strappy black jail cells that people call heels and rested my head on the back of the soft, cold leather. By the time He found me again, it was after one Am and I had fallen asleep in the middle of the party.
“Are you ready to head home?” He asked, not taking into account the fact that I was shoeless and passed out in the middle of the country club.
“Yes…please,” I answered, struggling to stand from my comfortable position. Even after my hour nap, the alcohol was still rushing through my veins causing me to stumble and stagger as I tried to rebuckle the straps around my ankles.
Once in His truck, I leaned my head against the smooth, cold window and pointed the vent towards my face. Although it was chilly outside, my body felt hot and clammy from the tequila, and the rush of cold air felt good against my flushed cheeks. I must have dozed off, because I was awoken by His hand on my bare thigh shaking me, and His voice saying my name. “Quinn. Quinn, what’s going on?”
“Huh?” was all I could muster. I looked out the window at the passing cars. We were still on the highway headed back to Our Apartment.
“You were talking in your sleep. Something about butterflies.”
I sat straight up in my seat, silent, willing my eyes to focus on the road ahead and my wandering thoughts to remain in my head.
PRESENT TENSE
January 4, 2013
We were exiting the "mansion" through our "friends" expensive, custom French doors, as He placed His hand on the small of my back to guide me towards His truck. At least I think He's touching me. I hardly even feel it anymore. I quickened my pace to place a gap between us, and hopped into the passenger seat just as He was sliding behind the wheel.
"Tonight was fun, huh?" He asked as we pulled down the stone-paved road and out of the gated community.
I heard His voice, but I wasn't concentrating on His words. I continued to stare blankly out the window, watching the white lines pass us by in a blur. I spent the majority of the night in this blur: reminiscing and strolling down memory lane. "Quinn, are you listening to me?"
"Wha... Umm, yeah. What'd you say?" I answered, shaken from my trance.
"I said I had fun tonight. That was really a great game."
"Yeah, I guess. Football's not really my thing," I stated honestly.
"Well, you could've put forth a little more effort, ya know? The girls were really trying with you, and it kind of seemed like you were blowing them off. "
"Really trying with me? How? By judging my wardrobe and snickering behind my back?"
"Come on, don't be like that, Quinn. Those are our friends."
"No, those are your friends that you met at your swanky advertising firm. I don't have to "really try" with My friends. And speaking of my friends, we have hardly seen any of them since we moved up here eight months ago. Every time I try to get us together with the old crew, you always come up with some bullshit excuse as to why we can't." I was fuming at this point and letting out all of the pent up frustration that I had been holding in for months. I was spitting the words at Him like a venomous snake striking at his prey.
He remained silent. Processing, before finally replying, "Well maybe I just thought it was time that we made some new friends. We've been hanging out with the same group of people since we were fourteen. Don't you think it's time that we broaden our horizons?"
"Excuse me if I don't share in the joy of hanging out in some stuffy mansion with stuffy Aggie freaks. And no, to answer your question, I don't think there will ever be a time that I feel the need to break friendships with people that I've known for virtually my entire life. We were friends first, too, does that mean it’s time that we "broaden our horizons" and start seeing other people?" As soon as the words rolled off my tongue, something inside of me burst to life. A strange high washed over me at the possibility.
"Of course not," He huffed. "God, where did all of this attitude come from all of a sudden?"
Ha! All of sudden. He really can be so oblivious to what's right in front of Him. Before I could respond, He switched the radio to AM, knowing very well that there's nothing I hate more than being locked in a truck listening to a bunch of sportscasters talk over one another. He turned the volume up loud, and I resumed my position, staring out at the world passing by me through the passenger window.
I propped my elbow up on the plastic ledge of the door, with my head resting on my hand, and tried my hardest to block out the staticky voices booming from His speakers. Two men were reading off names and stats and debating whether or not the other's opinions were valid or not when suddenly I was jolted upright in my seat. I stiffened and straightened my back against the worn leather upholstery, hoping that proper posture was going to help me hear more clearly.
"That's right, Jim," one of the men continued, "coming in at number fifteen is lefty pitcher, Judd Vaughn of the Frisco Roughriders for the Houston Astros."
"I've heard he developed one hell of a fast ball in the minors, Jensen," Jim added. "And he gets to stay close to home. Hopefully he'll actually do the Astros some good this season." Both men chuckled and continued listing off various names and numbers, but the sound of their voices was tuned out by the hundreds of thoughts swirling frantically through my mind.
The sound of Judd's name coming through His speakers sent a chill down my spine, and the silent fluttering commenced in my core. I looked over at Him to see if He noticed my change in demeanor, or if He recognized the name of Houston's pick, but His eyes remained focused on the hig
hway ahead of Him. If He had noticed, He wasn't making any indication of it.
Out of all of the rapid thoughts invading my mind, the last one, the one that I thought just as I lied down to try and find some sleep was…Judd will be moving to Houston.
Silent Flutter (The Butterfly Series) Page 21
