Jo
"HI," HE SAYS.
"Bye."
"Hey, hey, relax, okay?" He grabs my elbow. His callous fingers dig into my skin. I move away from him like he's burnt me. "I'm just trying to talk to you."
I fold my arms and frown at him. "Well that sucks cos I don't want to talk to you."
He smiles suspiciously and leans against the wall. "You look good."
"What do you want from me, Craig?"
He drinks from his solo cup and looks me up and down. "Thought you'd wanna hang out, you know. Just like old times."
I laugh. I can't help it. "What's this about? You dump me, we don't talk for months and then all of a sudden, you show up at my table at lunch being an asshole and now, you want to hang out?" I place an air quote as I say the words and he shrugs.
"Just think about it, okay? It's not like you don't miss me or anything."
I scoff and look up at the ceiling before deciding that I'm done talking to him. "We're over. You made that clear enough, Craig. Leave me alone and stop trying to talk to me."
I turn around and walk away from him before heading into the restroom. I lean against the door and exhale, while moving my fingers against my temples. No one is here and I'm more than grateful because the alcohol in my blood hits me with a full force. A thin sheen of sweat breaks out on my head and a rush of nausea grips my throat in a chokehold. I move towards the toilet and open the lid.
I hold the sides of the toilet rim and empty my stomach into it repeatedly until my head starts to spin. I shut my eyes tightly and lean against the wall. The headache doesn't lessen and my throat hurts from all the retching. I get to my feet and rinse my mouth, before splashing some water on my face. I look into the mirror and my face looks ashen. The only colors there are dark makeup around my eyes and the smudges of lipstick Flynn left on my chin from my mouth. I immediately start to tremble when I search around for my purse. I need to check my blood sugar because I really don't think the alcohol is the only thing that's doing this.
I can't find my purse. Only my phone is in my hands. I must have left it somewhere.
"You're so stupid," I grit, my voice breaking as I do so. I need my purse. I need it now.
I head out of the restroom and everything sways and dances before my eyes. I lean against the wall and try to catch my breath. The hallway is dimly lit and the music from the other room bounces against the walls. The screen of my phone lightens and a buzz tells me I've got a message.
The chat bubble blurs and returns into focus as soon as I take it up to my face. It's a message from Flynn.
Flynn: you giving birth in there? I'm outside, in my car. waiting for you. Semia's coming in five. I've got your purse with me. You left it in the kitchen. chop-chop
Relief washes over me since he's with my purse but with the way the ground shifts, I doubt I'll be able to make it to his car. So I walk slowly and bump into people while placing a call to him. My ears are ringing loudly.
"Was it a boy or a girl?" Is the first thing he asks. He sounds like he's smiling. I wish I was smiling.
"Flynn."
"Pryce," I hear the door of his car opening and closing in the background. His tone changes. I don't think he's smiling anymore. "Where are you?"
I look around and see a door ajar. It leads to the garden. I move towards the door and push it open. There are a couple of people here as well, hanging around the flowers and chatting with red solo cups in their hands. "Garden, I think."
I think I see Khalid. Or is it someone else? I'm not sure. My vision blurs again and I don't feel my legs anymore. The ringing in my ears intensify. I fall to the ground and someone gasps. Another wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me before steadying me against a hard chest. I hold his arm and blink. It's Flynn. I've somehow recognized his cologne.
"Hey," he turns me around and places my hand around his neck. "I've got you. Can you walk?"
"I just need my purse."
He lifts me in his arms and takes me to his car. I hide my face in his chest and ignore the stares. I feel like a child. A very stupid child. My eyes start to burn and as soon as he opens the door and drops me on the seat, the first tear rolls down my cheek. He shuts the door and my green purse stares at me from the dashboard.
I grab it and my hands shake as I unzip it and dump all the contents into my lap. Flynn climbs into the car and puts the key in the ignition. He drives away from the party and stops at a fair distance from Cass's house. He watches me silently as I prick my finger and the meter displays the blood sugar level.
66 mg/dL. Jesus Christ.
I empty my purse into my lap and grab the glucose gel. My vision slowly blurs as I rip it open and take it into my mouth. I press the gel into my mouth and curl my fists in an attempt to lessen the manner at which my body trembles. I lean my head against the headrest and close my eyes because they're wet and I can already feel my mascara getting ruined.
I don't say a thing after I'm done and he doesn't either. The only sound that can be heard in the car is my heavy breathing. I'm immobile for about 20 minutes and then I slowly cool down.
My breathing evens out eventually and I turn my head to the side to look at Flynn. He's staring at the glass and his expression is unreadable. His fingers are on the steering wheel and when he moves them, I notice a dull red stain on it. He feels me staring at him so he turns his head to me and stares right back.
I wave my fingers at him. "Hello."
"You're sick."
"Type 1 diabetes. It's nice to meet you."
"You weren't going to tell me."
"I didn't think we were close enough for me to share that information with you." I look away from him and stare at the glass. "Or anyone to be honest."
He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He starts the car again and begins to drive.
"It doesn't really matter if we're friends or foes," he says and turns to me with one hand on the steering wheel. His gaze burns through me. "Don't scare me like that again."
I stare at the bottle of insulin on my lap before placing it back inside my purse and looking back at the road ahead. "Did everyone see that?" I ask quietly.
"Who cares if they did?"
"I do."
"This is why you don't talk to people?" He asks gently. "Because you think they wouldn't accept you because of your illness?"
I'm silent for a while and then without looking at him, I ask, "Do you ever feel alone when you see your former teammates hanging out without you just because you're not on the team anymore?"
I turn to him and see his knuckles whiten against the steering wheel. I guess I've gotten my answer.
"Look," I close my eyes and exhale. "I just want to go home. Please."
He doesn't respond. I lean back on the chair and stare at the window, watching as the road passes by. He leans forward and presses a button and then a song starts to play. It's a soothing songâElton Johnâ I realize and he turns his attention back to the road. I close my eyes and listen to the lyrics because it brings back a few memories I have of my dad. He listened to Elton John more than he ate mum's food. We don't say anything to each other after that and I don't turn to him anymore.
After a few minutes, he asks me for the directions to my house and he tells me that he's not going to drop me off at Main Street again. I bite down hard on my lip before deciding to tell him. My neighborhood comes into focus after that and I gather my purse and phone in one hand and clutch tightly.
He hits the breaks at the front of my house and I look to the side to see that the porch lights are still on. Mum and grandma are most definitely asleep. The faux webs aren't holding still anymore and the soft breeze tosses it about. Flynn doesn't kill the engine and for a moment, I don't get out of the car. I just sit there and stare at my porch and then I feel his eyes on my face.
"Thanks," I say pulling a poker face and then turning to him. The song is playing lowly in the car and his head is tipped back against the headrest with his eyes closed. I take my eyes away from his Adam's apple and watch him turn his head to me.
"I just wish you wouldn't frown so much," he slowly says.
I cross my legs together and frown harder. "I don't know how to smile."
"Sure you do," he retorts and then he leans forward and places his fingers on the lines between my brows. "You start by getting rid of these first." His eyes are solely on my forehead and he's spreading out the frown lines with his thumb and forefinger.
For the second time today, I've let him touch my face without cursing at him. The first time I was drunk. The second time, I just can't figure out why.
"And then," he whispers and drags his fingers down my nose to the ends of my mouth and pulls the corners widely. "You do that."
l narrow my eyes at him and the playful gleam in his eyes increases. "I'm pretty sure I'm not smiling right now."
"Yeah," he shakes his head. "This is much worse."
I grab his wrist away from my face and point it to his. Then I lift it up and use it to lightly slap him on the face. "Goodnight, thanks for dropping me off." I open the door and leave, slamming it shut without waiting to hear what he has to say.
Then I speed-walk to the porch. I turn off the lights and head inside. Mum and grandma are seated on the floor with mum's head leaning on grandma's shoulder and grandma's head leaning on hers. They're fast asleep and the TV is the only source of light and sound in the room. I lift the shared blanket higher over their shoulders and turn off the TV before heading upstairs to my room.
I don't bother to take off my clothes or anything. I go to the window and flip the binds open just to see Flynn's car still parked right next to the curb. Impulsively, I grab my phone and send him a text.
Jo: I'm sorry I ruined your date. Or whatever.
I see him look down and a little light shines on his face. My phone vibrates and I look down at the screen.
Flynn: It wasn't a date.
Jo: Yeah, okay.
I hesitate a little before I eventually send the message. I rub my nose and see that he's typing.
Flynn: It's nice to see you admiring me from your window. Must be a good view.
I'm glad he's not close enough to see my face heat up. When I look up from my screen, I see him waving at me from inside his car.
Jo: I'm not admiring you. I was about to tell you to get out from the front of my porch. It's way past midnight and anyone would think it's strange that a car is lurking around my house.
Flynn: Is that your way of inviting me to your room?
I suck on my teeth and my fingers hang loosely on the keyboard. I can never get anywhere with him.
Jo: Get out
Flynn: It's okay to be shy, Pryce. Just say the words and I'm all yours.
Jo: I hate you.
Flynn: So you're not going to let me in?
Jo: No
Flynn: I still have your lipstick on my thumb.
Jo: Wash it off.
Flynn: That's very unromantic of you.
Jo: I don't have a heart.
He starts to type again and then he stops. I look outside the window and find him staring at me now. The windows of his car are down and he finally starts to type again.
Flynn: I could lend you mine if you want.
My head does a little spin and I blink at the words on my screen. I don't know how to respond to this so I look back at him. His windows start to wind up and then he reverses his car and drives off.