Keep From Falling (Markson Grove Series Book 1) (58 page)

“Wait,” I say, reaching for her hand but missing it completely at the speed that she’s moving. Or maybe it’s the speed that my drunken self is processing it. I don’t get a chance to tell her that my lipstick is all over her lips.

I watch her open the door and see Evan’s face switch from an initial look of concern into pained anger in an instant. He snaps his gaze in my direction, glaring at me, and all I can do is glare back. I want to do more. I want to tell him that he’s an asshole and that I hate him, but seeing his face makes me hesitate. I know that look of despair all too well.

Bree says something to him, but I can tell that he’s not listening to her at all. He backs away from the door into the wall behind him, “I guess you’ve made your choice,” he says to her bitterly and without another word, storms off. Bree turns to me questioningly; she doesn’t have a clue what just happened.

“My lipstick is smeared on your lips,” I say to her quietly.

And that’s all she needs to hear.

She takes off after him so fast that I don’t even have time to blink.

I follow behind, rushing down the hall, down the stairs, and then into the hotel restaurant where Evan is storming toward his friends; two tables filled with
all
our friends.

“Evan!” Bree calls after him, panic radiating from her voice. Everyone turns to look our way. I watch their eyes move from Evan to Bree, then to me. I know what they are thinking. I’d be thinking it too.

And then I catch Parker’s gaze. His eyes are questioning me, staring into my heart and pleading for me to tell them that they are wrong. That what it looks like isn’t actually what it is.

I start toward him in what feels like slow motion. I look to Evan, who’s shaking his head vigorously, all the while attempting to pull his arms away from Bree’s grasps. He’s refusing to listen to her explain reason. He slams his fist into a wooden post standing next to him and turns to Parker. “Shouldn’t be so quick to trust your girl,” he says, his eyes full of betrayal.

My heart sinks in my chest.

I want to scream, but I can’t at all, nothing wants to come out for some reason. I push myself into Parker’s arms. “No,” I say finally, but it escapes only as a whimper. “Let me explain,” I plead, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. I look up into his. “Let me explain,” I say again. He brings a hand up to my lip as if to hush me, and for a moment my entire self calms completely.

It’s going to be ok; he knows what it really was. Everything’s going to be fine.

But then he rubs his fingers across my smudged lipstick and shows them to me. “No explanation necessary,” he whispers, his broken heart screaming out to me through those words.

I watch as his eyes cloud over, his bottom lip trembling slightly for a moment, just enough time for me to catch it, before his features completely glaze over and I’m looking into the eyes of an emotionless person I don’t even know.

He gently pushes me off of him, tugging his hand from my tight grasp. He walks out of the restaurant, out the front door of the hotel, and onto the street without another glance in my direction. I start after him, feeling like a pathetic idiot, but I don’t have the control to let that stop me. I can’t lose him, not like this!

Spencer grabs my wrist, pulls me back through the doors, and over to his table. I reluctantly sit where he puts me next to Derrick and Kelsie. He brushes my hair out of my tear covered face with his hand. “Give him some time,” he says.

“That’s not what happened!” I say to him, feeling my emotions getting more heightened as I try to get the words out.

I need to cut!

I look around franticly for something to cut myself with, but I can’t find anything that might work. The tightness in my chest gets worse. I begin scratching my arm with the tips my nails, hoping that it will be enough to draw blood.

Kelsie, noticing my panic and vigorous attempt at drawing blood from my arm, places her hand over mine on the table. “Shush,” she hushes, soothingly and my emotions calm. I stop the scratching abruptly, looking up into her eyes. I don’t know her at all, but she seems to understand what’s happening to me. She smiles. “Take a breath,” she says, and I do what she asks. “Take another,” she encourages again and I listen to her. Once I exhale this time, the urge to cut has passed.

I look around the two tables. I see Bree sitting next to Adrienne, her eyes wide in an almost state of shock as she stares off into the distance, not really focusing on anything at all. This was not how things were supposed to go for her. She didn’t want him to find out this way. She turns to Adrienne. “He won’t let me explain,” she cries, heartbroken, eyes still wide in disbelief at how angry he was with her.

Adrienne nods. “He’s like that,” she says, and Kelsie shoots her a dirty look.

Evan is gone, but I don’t know where he went. I didn’t see him leave.

“What were you guys thinking?” Spencer asks. He says it quietly, and without judgment in his voice, but I can tell by the look on his face that he’s disappointed in us. “When will you two make up your minds?”

“We did!” I say to him angrily. “Bree chose Evan over our friendship! We were saying goodbye. The kiss didn’t mean anything more than that!”

Everyone turns to Bree in surprise, and she lowers her head in what appears to be shame. “Don’t judge me,” she says quietly. “I made a choice. And I don’t feel like I should have to explain that choice.”

“Try calling him,” Kelsie says to Derrick.

Bree shakes her head. “Don’t. I’m too pissed at him right now. I need time.”

I shake my head, disappointed in her. I’m completely exasperated by this whole thing. Evan is an idiot, and she deserves much better.

“I’m going back to my room,” I say, getting up from where I’m sitting across from Kelsie. I look at her and force a little smile. “Thank you,” I say, and she gives me a small, knowing nod.

I just want to go back upstairs to get my phone so I can call Parker and explain everything to him. He’s the only person that needs to hear it anyway.

I get up from the table and start back to the room. I take the elevator this time because I honestly don’t feel like I have the energy to walk it. As the doors are closing in front of me, Bree stops them with her hand, forcing them to reopen.

“Skylar,” she starts but I cut her off quickly.

“Stop,” I say wearily, shaking my head. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Her eyes look up at me sadly. “I’ll fix this for you… with Parker. I promise.” she says, turning to face the doors as the elevator climbs up to the second floor.

“Your stupid boyfriend has already done enough. I’ll take care of it,” I snap.

“I’m sorry,” Bree says as the doors reopen. I step out and walk briskly toward our room.

I swipe the keycard and enter the room, not bothering to hold the door open for Bree who’s following close behind me.

When I reach my phone, I immediately dial his number and put the phone to my ear. Bree is standing in front of me, waiting expectantly.

The call rings only one time before going to voice mail. He pressed ignore. My stomach feels sick.

“He won’t answer,” I say to Bree before franticly typing out a message to send him instead.

Me:
The kiss isn’t what you think it was. I love you. I only want you.

I can tell by the fact that the message never gets tagged with ‘delivered’ that he’s already shut off his phone and won’t be seeing it.

“Fuck!” I yell, launching my phone across the room. I should have texted him first instead of calling. He knew there would be a text coming once he ignored the call.

I turn to Bree. “I’m going to go find him.”

“What? You can’t just go for a stroll in a big city just before dark. And besides, you’ll get caught. There’s no way Mr. Cooper won’t notice you’re gone.”

“Curfew isn’t for another three hours. If you cover for me, it’ll be fine,” I say, putting on my boots.

She shakes her head. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

“Parker won’t listen to me if you’re right there,” I snap, making it clear how annoyed I am with her stubbornness. She should stay here and cover for me.

“I’ll make him listen,” she says.

I sigh in defeat. I know she won’t back down on this. “Fine,” I say with a roll of my eyes. I grab my sweater off of my bed and make my way toward the door. “We’ll both get into trouble, but whatever,” I say sarcastically.

She slips on her sneakers and then pulls a sweatshirt on over her head. “I don’t care.”

“Fine then. Let’s go.” I pick my phone up off the floor and shove it into my pocket.

We hurry out of the room and make our way toward a back exit of the hotel as quietly as we can.

I seriously hope I can find him. And if I do, I hope he’ll listen to me.

Evan

The first bar I come across ends up being about two blocks away from the hotel. It’s an Irish Pub called
McGuire’s
and it looks inviting enough for me to sit and sulk. I want to be wasted and the sooner the better.

I take a seat at the far end of the bar, close to the back exit in case one of the chaperones comes looking for me. I don’t know if anyone even saw me leave, but I’m not taking any chances.

A bartender walks over to me. “
Oui
?” she says with a tiny smile, as she looks me up and down. She’s cute, but I’m too annoyed to care.

“I need something strong. Whisky or bourbon or something,” I say, hoping she doesn’t ask for ID.

She laughs, but I’m not exactly sure why, and walks over to her bottles of alcohol and glasses. When she returns, she puts a coaster down and fills a small glass with a shot of something.

“Whiskey or something,” she says with a slight French accent, she’s still laughing as she winks at me. “That’s four dollars,” she adds.

I hand her a twenty. “Keep them coming,” I say. She nods, taking the money and walking over to another customer a few seats away from me.

A moment later she returns with the whiskey bottle and another glass. I drink the first one in one gulp and let the burning sensation take over, allowing me to feel something… anything. I reach for the second glass. “Another,” I say before I gulp that one down too.

“Are you sure?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Fucking positive.” I drink the bitter liquid down and attempt to keep my facial expressions in check. I don’t need her knowing that I’ve never tasted any hard liquor before.

“Ok,” she agrees, filling the glass again. “After this one you should take a few minutes break,
non
?”

“Fine,” I mumble as I chug the third glass.

I look around the pub. It’s covered in wood paneling and forest green linoleum; it looks like it was designed in the nineteen seventies. The walls are lined with booths and covered with pictures of people who’ve spent too much time here over the years. It’s a cozy place, and not too bright either, which I like. All the lights are dim and covered with bronze colored shades. Music plays from overhead, but I see a small stage off in the corner that they probably use for open mic nights or something similar. Maybe karaoke.

The front door opens and Parker walks in. If it’s at all possible, he looks even worse than I feel.

He spots me immediately, making me realize that choosing this spot next to the exit wasn’t as thought out as I’d originally hoped. I don’t want to talk to anyone. At first he sits at the bar about six seats away, making me think that he doesn’t want to talk either. A few moments later, however, he gets up from that spot and takes the seat right beside me instead.

The cute bartender walks toward us and smiles at Parker. She seems to know him somehow. “
Une bière
, Parker?” she asks and he nods.

Yep, she knows him.

She’s back in a few seconds with a bottle of
Budweiser
, the cap twisted off. “
Quatre et vingt-cinq
,” she says and he hands her a five. I notice them share an exchange with their eyes as she takes the money. “
Gardez la monnaie
,” he says in what appears to be very fluent French. What the hell is up with this guy? He’s like a fucking mystery. They know him by name here, in Madigan City, six hours away from Markson Grove!

“
Merci
,” she calls out over her shoulder as she heads back to her cash.

“Come here often?” I say once he drinks a big gulp of his beer and looks away from the bartender. I say it jokingly, but I’m honestly curious. What is this guy’s deal?

“I’ve come here a few times,” he replies with no amount of humor in his words, as ironic as they are.

I look up and attempt to call over the bartender once again to buy my fourth shot, but she’s not looking this way anymore.

“Isabelle,” Parker calls out and she immediately turns to face us. He smiles that winning grin that gets all the girls, and motions her over.

“I’ll take my next shot now,” I say as soon as she’s close enough to hear it.

“Ok.” She seems a little annoyed with me. She pours me the whiskey and then turns to Parker. “He’s your friend?” she asks.

Parker chuckles slightly. “For lack of a better word.”