Being back in Bakersville always messed with my head. But this time more so than ever before.

And I had bought Gracie a fucking Baby Ruth and told her that I wanted her to come to the show.

I was ridiculous.

“Do you think I could stay over tonight? It’s been a while,” she murmured, pulling on my belt buckle, her eyes coy and meant to be seductive.

“Uh, well, I’m pretty tired—” I started to say.

Was I really giving her the “I’m tired” speech? Why don’t I just tell her I have to wash my hair?

Sophie pouted, her hands sliding up the front of my shirt and connecting with bare skin. Her nails scrapped along my abdomen and I felt…nothing.

Not a dick twinge. Not a belly flip. Nada. Nothin’.

“I think you’ll feel better when I have my mouth wrapped around your—”

“Get your ass in here! We’ve been waiting for almost a fucking hour!” Cole yelled, throwing open the door.

Sophie let out an exasperated breath and pulled her hands out from under my shirt.

“It’s Tits McGee! Wow, I was starting to think you were history,” Cole remarked and I should have gotten pissed at his disrespect towards my girlfriend.

But I didn’t say anything. Sophie glared when I didn’t tell Cole to shut up and stomped into the house.

“Why did you bring the wet mop, dude? I thought you’d be done with her by now,” Cole asked, not even trying to lower his voice.

“Seriously, give me a break,” I said tiredly. Cole shrugged and went into the living room and I headed to the kitchen.

Maysie was at the counter, Jordan standing behind her, his hands on her hips. He was whispering something in her ear and I could see that she was blushing.

I wanted that. I wanted happiness…

“Hey guys,” I said and they looked back at me.

“Hey man, glad you’re here. Maysie’.” Jordan said, slapping my hand and then resumed kissing the back of his fiancée’s neck. I had to look away.

I didn’t know where Sophie went.

“They should be ready in a few minutes. Did I see Sophie come in with you?” Maysie asked, looking around for her.

I glanced into the living room and saw Vivian and Cole cuddled up on the couch while he played a video game, but there was no Sophie. She must have gone up to my room instead of hanging out with everyone.

“Yeah, I guess she went upstairs,” I said apologetically.

“Oh, does she not want anything to eat?” Maysie asked, frowning.

“I don’t know. I’ll go see,” I told her, annoyed that Sophie, once again, had separated herself from my friends.

I headed up the stairs to my bedroom. I found Sophie watching TV on my bed.

“What are you doing up here?” I asked irritated.

“I want to spend some time with just you,” she commented. She patted the bed beside her, but I didn’t move.

“Maysie’s making food. It would be nice if you came down and hung out for a while,” I said sharply.

“Why? So I can feel like an outsider all night? No thank you,” she snapped, turning off the television.

I rubbed at my temple. “You’re not an outsider, Sophie. We’ve been together for long enough now that you’re as much a part of the group as anyone.”

Lies.

And Sophie knew it.

“Am I?” she demanded, her voice relaying her skepticism.

She got to her feet and walked across the room. She wrapped her arms around my waist and lifted up on her tiptoes so she could kiss me. Her lips were dry and warm. And when she parted them for my tongue I tasted the mint of her gum. But I wanted to taste strawberries.

Why was I thinking about strawberries?

Sophie tried to deepen the kiss, but I gently pulled away. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs.”

I wish I could ignore the hurt in her eyes.

Or the guilt I felt for putting it there.

I was drunk.

Actually, I had moved past drunk about three drunks ago.

Whatever.

“Fucking hell!” I threw the remote control on the floor and knocked back the rest of my beer.

“You betcha! I’m the king and you know it!” Cole slurred, pumping his fist triumphantly. Asshole.

Vivian was curled into his side, fast asleep. Jordan and Maysie had left two hours ago. And Sophie had gone up to my room in a snit when I told her I wanted to hang out for a while longer. She had spent the entire evening texting so I wasn’t in a rush to follow her up there.

“Man, I’m horny, we need to go,” Cole announced, shaking Vivian awake.

“What the hell?” she groaned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“I want to go home and fuck,” Cole growled, kissing her roughly.

“Uh, I’m still here,” I called out when he started to put his hand down Vivian’s pants.

“Come on, Cole. Let’s go back to my place. Gracie’s asleep by now,” Vivian murmured against his mouth, pushing on his shoulders so she could get up.

Vivian stumbled to her feet, not because she had been drinking, she was stone cold sober, but because Cole was still trying to unbutton her pants.

“See ya later, Mitch,” she said, smacking her boyfriend’s hands away. “Stop it, Cole! Not until we get home!”

Cole muttered something unintelligible as he wobbled on his feet. “I’m gonna eat some pussy tonight!” he sang at the top of his lungs and I threw the remote at him.

“Shut up, man. I don’t need to hear about it.”

Cole threw it back and gave me a sloppy smile. “You could go eat some pussy too. Don’t you have Tits up there in your bed?”

Yeah, I didn’t think Tits, I mean Sophie’s, pussy was on the menu tonight.

“Come on, baby,” Vivian cooed, supporting Cole as they walked to the front door. “Bye, Mitch!” she shouted.

The door slammed behind them and I was left alone. Garrett was in Boston until Monday so it was just me and Soph in the house. That should have been the cue for rabid monkey sex on every available surface.

If we were like normal couples we wouldn’t have been able to keep our hands off each other.

But we weren’t a normal couple apparently.

I tried to watch some TV, but I couldn’t get into anything. I was hoping for some Fresh Prince of Bel Air re-runs but I was out of luck. I thought about watching some porn so I could at least rub one out, but that sounded depressing.

I drank another beer but that just made me feel like I was going to puke.

I grabbed Garrett’s guitar and plugged it in. Maybe playing music would help me get rid of this restless energy.

I strummed a few songs, but couldn’t find my groove.

The notes all fell flat.

So I sat, staring at the wall, thinking shit that I shouldn’t be thinking, trying to sober up.

I thought about the band. I thought about what the hell I was going to do once that train derailed.

I thought about the woman asleep in my bed that I really wished wasn’t there.

And I thought about Gracie.

Of course I thought about Gracie.

Seeing her earlier today had been…nice.

Almost casual.

Something like normal.

I had been angry with her for so long. My ego had taken a beating. My heart had been smashed.

But I wasn’t feeling angry right now. I wasn’t feeling heartache or bitterness.

I just wanted to hear her voice. Which was stupid.

Don’t do it. Just don’t! Go for a walk. Or make an omelet. Do not, I repeat do not, drunk dial her!

I picked up my phone.

This is your last chance, man. Retreat! Retreat!

I dialed her fucking number anyway.

I’ll just blame it on the alcohol. It made it easy to make bad decisions and think about consequences later.

“Hello?” Her voice was rough and heavy with sleep.

“Hey,” I said softly. Was I slurring? I didn’t think so. I felt a lot more sober than I had an hour or so ago. But I was still just drunk enough not to care about how wrong this was.

“Mitch?” I could hear the rustling of fabric and knew she was moving around in her bed. “What time is it?”