Broken and Screwed 2

I glanced at the guy who’d been crowding me. He was still there. He gave me a smile that I knew was aimed at being charming and reassuring.

My stomach protested and I clamped a hand over my mouth. I wasn’t sure if it was the beer or the guy’s cheesy smile, but I darted for the bathroom. I lost it. My stomach emptied out and I was bent over the toilet for the next ten minutes.

Gross.

When I was done and a whole lot more sober, I searched my purse for a breath mint and then I headed back out.

I heard them before I saw them. When they weren’t by the pool table, I followed the shouting. They were in the parking lot and Hannah had a death grip on the girl’s hair, who was trying to claw Hannah’s eyes out. The big guy was yelling at Hannah to let loose, mixed with more curse words and a few derogatory terms, as he was trying to pull his girlfriend away.

No one had Hannah’s back.

It might’ve been the beer. It might’ve been the deliriousness that came with vomiting or nostalgic memories from other friends, but I joined in. Angie and Marissa would’ve been proud. The girl was swinging her hand around, her nails ready to rip into Hannah’s face when my fist blinded her. I punched her in the cheek and she fell to the ground. The guy gaped at her before rounding to me with a snarl.

Hannah stood with a clump of black hair in her hands. Dazed, she looked at the hair, at the girl on the floor, and then at me. The guy started for me, but she threw the hair at him and grabbed my hand. “Run!”

She didn’t have to say it twice.

Holding hands, we took off down the block. We kept going, panting and giggling. We went down two more streets before we slowed outside of a grocery store.

Panting, Hannah swiped her hair from her face and swept it back into a ponytail. As she did, she kept shaking her head at me and laughing. “That was awesome, Alex. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

I shrugged, unable to hold back my own grin. It had felt good. My chest swelled. I wanted to call Angie and Marissa. They would’ve laughed their asses off, but then I remembered reality. Angie and Marissa were no longer my friends. And Hannah wasn’t really a friend either.

The grin fell from my face.

The situation was no longer so funny.

Hannah’s grin faded too. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Who were those two?”

“Oh.” All humor was gone. Her lips pressed together and her shoulders stiffened. “They’re no one.”

I frowned. “Are you kidding? I punched her for you. Who were there?”

“No, I meant they aren’t even worth talking about. Trust me. It’s all stupid drama.”

I remembered some of the shouts and asked, “She’s your roommate?”

Hannah visibly cringed. Her shoulders jerked up, her jaw clenched, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She sat on a bench outside the store. I sat beside her. When she didn’t say anything, I asked the next theory that was mulling in my head. “And he was your boyfriend?”

Her eyes closed. Her head hung down and her shoulders drooped beside me. She was withering before my eyes. In a broken voice, she whispered, “Yeah.”

A light bulb went off for me.

Hannah was broken, just like me.

My hand found hers and I squeezed it, patting it at the same time. “Trust me. I understand.”

“Your boyfriend cheated on you for a whole year, broke up with you because of the long distance relationship, and ended up transferring to Grant West so he could date your roommate/best friend?”

“Well,” I let go of her hand. “No.” I patted her shoulder instead.

“Oh. Because that’s what happened to me. I dated Dylan forever. He went to Cal U, I went to Grant West, and you know the rest.” She sounded defeated. “They got together over the summer after he broke up with me. Angelique didn’t tell me until the day we moved in together. She said she had ‘some news to tell me’ and Dylan strolled in. Fuck me. I thought he had come to beg forgiveness and then they started kissing.”

Bitch.

Her shoulders filled with anger again and she stiffened beside me. “Thanks for punching her. I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Heh.” I waved my hand in a dismissing motion. “Not a problem.”

She grinned at me. “We’re a mess. Sorry about ruining your first drunk moment.”

“I’ve been drunk before.”

“You have?”

I nodded. “But that was the first time I’ve hit someone. It was fulfilling.”

“Oh.” She began to laugh, her shoulders shaking. “Beth’s right. You’re cool. I’m glad my sister hates you.”

“Me too.”

We began laughing together then, unable to hold in the hysterics of the evening. When an elderly couple walked past into the store, a fresh wave came over us again. The old guy seemed intrigued while his wife grabbed his cane and hurried him inside. I wasn’t sure how long we sat there. It was a while before Hannah sighed, hugging herself. She ran a hand over her hair, trying to calm the mess and shuddered. “We should go back.”

“Sure.”

We didn’t move.

Hannah asked, “Do you know how to go back?”

“No idea.”

“Oh. Okay.”

We remained sitting. The elderly couple came out, followed by a grocery clerk with their purchases. When he wheeled his cart back in, his gaze lingered on us, mostly on Hannah and her hair, before he went back inside.