“What is with you tonight bro? Did someone piss in your beer?” I roll my eyes at Brody. He definitely doesn’t have any tact. We sit at the bar, watching Nicky’s fill up with students like it does every Thursday night. Drinks are on special and it’s open mic night, a disastrous combination if you ask me. It makes people brave, and stupid, enough to venture on stage in their drunken stupor and belt out a really bad rendition of some clichéd country song. Normally I would laugh at them, remembering how badly behaved Brody and I were in freshman year, but tonight I’m not in the mood.
I’m still beating myself up after the encounter with Huntley in the locker room a few hours ago. How could I be so stupid? I was about ready to rip her clothes off and then, for whatever sardonic reason, sense returned. I hated the look on her face when I pulled away and I hated myself more for putting it there, but I was playing with fire. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to kiss her or worse. Do more than just kiss her. It took me three cold showers to calm down after she left but it didn’t make me feel like less of an asshole.
“If you don’t quit hounding me I might just piss in YOUR beer bro,” I bite back. When I say I’m not in the mood I’m not lying. Fortunately, he’s the only one who knows how to deal with me when I’m like this. “You gonna tell me what’s got your balls in a knot or must I play ‘I Spy’ and guess for myself?” he asks, eyeing me over his beer bottle. I think about it carefully, wondering if I should tell him what he most likely already knows. I decide to see if he was smart as he thinks he is. “Ok fine, I’ll guess,” he taps his finger on his chin in an exaggerated movement and finishes the last of his beer. “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with H and ending in untley.” Like I said, he already knows. I look at him but still don’t say anything. “Yeah,” he sighs, “I thought so.” His expression isn’t mocking. It’s filled with understanding and sympathy.
“I was a total asshole,” I mutter, not quite sure if he heard me.
“Didn’t take you long,” he replies, “What happened?”
I tell him everything, starting with how she walked in and caught me by surprise, in nothing but a towel, and ending with how she practically ran out like her life depended on it. “I feel like I’ve been losing my mind ever since I met her,” I add. He looks down at his empty beer bottle, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. That’s how I know he’s thinking and I won’t like what he’s about to say. “Look Gray –“ he stops short when his phone starts ringing. He frowns at the number and then answers, “Hey Dem –“
I see the look on his face change from confusion to concern and back to confusion. Why is Demi calling him? The fact that she even has his number makes no sense considering they can’t stand each other.
“Yeah he’s here. Why?” Brody answers and looks at me. Why would she be looking for me? Sure, Demi and I have been friends since kindergarten, our families are pretty close, but why not phone me instead of Brody? The thought makes me pull my phone out.
What the fuck?
Six missed calls and four text messages. How did I not hear my damn phone?
“Ok, you need to calm the fuck down Demetria! Don’t yell at me woman!” he yells into the phone. Seconds pass and he yells again, “Yeah, alright, we’re on our way! No need to get your panties in a twist!”
Judging by his tone he’s pissed. And I’m confused. What the fuck is going on?
He ends the call, pulling out a few dollar bills and throwing them on the counter. “Grayson, we have to go. Now.” He starts for the door and I jump up to follow him. “Care to tell me what the fuck is going on?” I yell to his back, trying to speak over the loud music. He doesn’t respond until we’re in my truck.
“Drive to Huntley’s apartment building.”
“What’s wrong Brody?” I sound panicked.
“Look, Demi said Huntley won’t answer the door but she called Demi earlier, sounding like something was really wrong. Demi said she sounded hysterical on the phone but couldn’t make out what she was saying because she was crying so hard. Demi’s there now trying to get Huntley to open the door but there’s no sound coming from the apartment. She’s freaking out, wanting to know what you did to upset Huntley so badly.” He brushes his hand through his hair, letting out an exacerbated sigh.
“Dammit,” I yell, hitting my steering wheel and turning the key in the ignition. I don’t think twice about flooring it when my tires spin on the asphalt. I know she was upset when she ran out of the locker rooms but hell, I didn’t think it would hurt her this much.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It takes us ten minutes to get to Huntley’s apartment block. I pull into the parking lot and Brody grabs my arm before I can jump out. “Wait Grayson, I need to tell you something.” His face flickers with concern. “Remember when I told you Coach warned us to stay away from Huntley?” he asks.
“Yeah?”
“I wasn’t completely honest. Coach didn’t say anything about us staying away from her. In fact, he asked us to keep an eye on her,” he looks down. “I’m sorry I lied, but I saw the way you looked at her and the last time you looked at a girl that way,” he looks back up at me, meeting my gaze, “she ripped you apart. I can’t watch you go through that again man.”