Brooke
My breath smells worse than a badger’s behind, which is why I’m now hogging the bathroom as I commence Operation Make Brooke Human Again. I’ll admit that it’s not the catchiest of titles, but I’m too hung over to care.
I woke up about half an hour ago, automatically turning to snuggle into the warm, hot body next to me, only to discover that the other side of the bed was cold and empty. Last night wasn’t the bad dream I thought it was, it is my new normal. I suppose I could pad out to the kitchen, smelling and looking like something died, but what’s left of my pride won’t let me do that.
What was Lola talking about last night? The one-eighty? Meh, I’ll Google it after I’ve had some caffeine and painkillers, which means I’ll have to face Brody.
Oh happy days.
The smell of coffee makes me gag as I walk into the kitchen and take pew at the breakfast bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Brody standing by the coffee machine in just his boxers, so I place my head in my hands in a poor attempt to avoid looking at him.
“How’s your head?” I look up to see a hot, steaming cup of Joe in front of me, with Brody now on the other side of the counter, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his chest.
“Hurts.”
He walks over to a cupboard, takes out a bottle of Tylenol, and places it in front of me. Next, he fills up a glass of water, and places it next to the bottle.
“Do you remember much from last night?”
“You dumped me.” He looks uncomfortable. Good.
“After that?”
“I got drunk.”
“Yeah, you did.” A small smile dances across his face. Whatever I did last night must have been amusing…Please don’t let me have thrown myself at him. “Where did you go?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“Where did you go?” His eyes narrow.
Is that jealousy I see before me? Mr. McAllister doesn’t like the fact that I went out and drunk myself stupid without him. Well tough shit.
“Why does it matter?”
“Because you came home so drunk you could barely stand, anything could have happened to you.”
“And that’s a problem because?”
“Because I care about you, Brooke, and I don’t like the idea of someone taking advantage of you because you can’t hold your liquor.”
“Again, it’s a problem because?” I say before swallowing a couple of tablets and washing them down with the hot coffee.
“I just told you why.”
“It’s no longer none of your business what I do and who I do it with. Your right to know anything about my life ended as of yesterday.”
“But—”
“But, what? You decided that you wanted out. As of yesterday, we became roommates without any benefits, until one of us finds a new place.” I smile. It’s the biggest and fakest smile that I can muster, but at least it’s a smile and not a sob. My heart, however, beats a sad, dying rhythm, and my head keeps telling me that I don’t mean it. I don’t mean the words that I say. “Anyway thanks for the coffee,” I say, getting up and heading out of the room. “But I’ve got places to go, people to see. Might set up a profile on Tinder later.” With that I leave the kitchen and head to the safety of my room.
I pick up my cell and see that I’ve received a couple of messages from Brody. Looking at the time, he must have sent them last night while I was at Lola’s.
Can we talk?
Followed by.
Where are you?
I’m sorry.
And finally.
Please don’t say that. I’ll always love you.
A quick scroll through the conversation reveals the truth, and it’s not pretty.
Brody: Can we talk?
Me: Go fuck yourself, assface.
Brody: Where are you?
Me: Neverland with my hot, new fuckbuddy. At least someone wants me.
Brody: I’m sorry.
Me: No ur not. You don’t care. I hate you.
Brody: Please don’t say that. I’ll always love you.
Me: You just want to screw other people. Well knock yourself out. Don’t come crying to me when you get an STD.
Me: You have a tiny wiener. I hope your next girlfriend chokes on it.
Yes. That right there was possibly my finest hour.