Page 40 of When in December
So, instead, I kept moving until my body took a moment to calm down. It was fine. I didn’t need to do anything.
But the house was quiet.
My keys, which I hadn’t touched in days, sat in front of me.
And,fuck, I never liked being alone.
The Bar on Main still smelled exactly like I remembered. It stank of piss, stale air freshener, and crisp French fries they always had arriving a little burned in a cardboard cup. The dive bar hadbeen a staple in the town for years, and it looked as run-down as ever, yet still, for some ungodly reason, it was packed to the brim with people.
A few heads turned my way when I stepped inside. It took a crack of pool balls and other indecipherable sounds to fill my ears before I turned right back around to the humid heat outside.
“Hayes! Wait up!” a voice called out after me.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I stopped in the middle of the parking lot.
Barrett caught up with me, coming to see my face. I noticed the way his eyes scanned me up and down before once again meeting my eyes. There was a smile on his face. There was always some kind of smile on Barrett’s face.
At one point, I’d thought it was because he was stupid, but Barrett always had an incorrigible personality and sense of humor, constantly looking for the bright side.
Reminded me of someone else who had been butting themselves in my life lately.
“What’s going on?” Barrett cocked his head to the side. “I thought I saw you walk in.”
I shrugged toward the place. Looking down at my feet, I kicked at the ice and dirt. “It’s loud in there.”
Barrett paused before nodding. “You’re right; it is. I came to talk to you and won’t even be able to hear ya. Let me go and grab two, and we can sit out here. Don’t you dare leave before I get back out here.”
“Isn’t there some law against open containers?” I asked, meaning it to come out teasing, but my tone fell flat.
“I don’t think the old sheriff will come to bother us in the back of my truck. Do you?”
Probably not.
Barrett smirked, knowing he was getting his way. “I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, he ran back out of the bar and put down the cold metal bed of his truck. I didn’t even mind the thick and heavy sort of cold, and neither did he. We were both used to it.
He twisted off the cap with the corner of his shirt wrapped around his hand before he offered the bottle.
I dipped my chin in thanks, lifting it to my lips to take a swig. At least we didn’t have to worry about our drinks getting warm out here. “Didn’t think you’d turned into a rule breaker, Barrett.”
“Eh, decided to stop sweating the small stuff.”
“How’s that working out for you?” That time, my voice sounded a little better. More like I was attempting a joke. I cleared my throat, dipping my head down before looking back at my friend.
He gave a shake of his head as he nudged toward a small paper dish, like the kind you got at football games—red-checker-patterned and always felt greasy when you held them in your hands. “Still working on it.”
“French fries?”
Barrett took two at a time and ate them. “Looks like you could use some. Maybe more than that.”
“What are you trying to say?” I asked. “Commenting on my looks? I always knew you thought I was hot.”
He chuckled. “Letting yourself go. What happened to the gains?”
“Left me somewhere during when my leg was shot up,” I said.
“Eh, excuses.”