The Choice (a Painful Past)

154

We both climbed out of the car and headed up the small flight of stairs.

"Wait." I said, jerking to a stop, in front of him.

Colby bumped into me, hard, from behind.

The contact should've sent me flying, but his hands grabbed my hips, keeping me steady.

"Damn it, Cal, I almost killed you! You can't just stop with no warning. Are you okay?"

I was, in fact, not okay at all.

Besides the fact that I could feel his warm fingers pressing into my hips, I had also just remembered what he had said in the car.

"You said no one is here yet. How many people are supposed to be here? Do I know them?"

That familiar anxiety was starting to claw its way up my back.

Surprisingly, Colby's touch seemed to be keeping most of it at bay.

"Oh, yeah, just a couple of people. Nate is visiting his family this weekend and our old buddy, Levi, still lives here. Tried to invite Alex, but he's away at school. Did you invite anyone?"

He let go of my hips and I let out a long, slow breath, before I started up the stairs again. "No. I only have one friend, besides Sherri, and she's watching Ben. Denise is the only one I talk to anymore. I honestly can't remember if I invited Sherri or not. It's been a long weekend. I'll text her when we get inside the room." I replied.

A few more steps and we were in front of the door. Colby pulled out his key card, swiped it, then pushed the handle down. He opened the door wide and set the bags from the liquor store down on the dresser.

The room had two queen beds, with ugly maroon blankets, and a small circle table with two chairs next to the window.

"Hey, Callie." Sam said, from his spot on one of the beds.

"Hey, Sam." I replied, smiling and throwing my hand up in a small wave.

"Sit anywhere you want." He said, as he got up to see what Colby had bought.

I sat down at the foot of the other bed and looked around the room. I was sure they were used to staying in much better conditions, but this was all we had to offer. There was an old red gym bag on the floor, beside the bed that I was sitting on. It was packed full, with the zipper open.

"Why'd you get this?" I heard Sam ask, so I looked over to see him holding a large bottle of flavored vodka.

Colby glanced up from where he was kneeling in front of the tiny refrigerator, then glanced at me.

"For Callie." He replied.

"Oh yeah?" Sam replied, looking over at me.

I gave him a small smile.

"I didn't know you got that." I told Colby. "You didn't have to. I told you that I wasn't going to drink." I mean, I had changed my mind since then, but he hadn't known that.

He shrugged, took the bottle from Sam, and packed it in the tiny fridge, as well.

"I got it, just in case you changed your mind. Which I'm sure you have, after what happened at the liquor store."

"What happened?" Sam asked, automatically, looking from Colby to me, and back again.

"Just her dick ex-boyfriend making an appearance." Colby replied, before he walked over to the bed that I was sitting on and flopped down.

The movement made me bounce a little.

"Oh. Did you punch him?" Sam asked.

His eyes were still going from me to Colby, like he was trying to see if we had any evidence of having been in a fight on us.

"Nope. Not this time. Next time, without a doubt." Colby replied, flashing me a grin.

I rolled my eyes and took out my phone to text Sherri, Denise, and my mom, before I forgot.

Mom was first. Ben wasn't home and my brothers would be checking in on Mom, so it was really just a formality to keep her from worrying when I didn't come home. I texted Denise to let her know that I wouldn't be home, and to let me know if there was an emergency, but to call my brother first. I was going to be drinking, so calling me wouldn't really help Ben.

Then, I texted Sherri. I would've called, but, in our usual fashion, I knew that she would call me if she were interested in coming. Considering that I didn't know anyone, except Sam and Colby, I really hoped that she would call me.

Hell, I barely knew Sam and Colby. Not the people they were now, because they were a far cry from being those geeky teenage kids that I had known.

"Wanna go ahead and take a couple of starter shots?" Colby asked Sam.

"Hell yeah." He replied, sitting up. "Callie?" Sam asked.

I shook my head. There was no way that I was starting with shots, when I barely even drank.

"You sure? Do you want a drink or something?" Colby asked, scooting over next to me.

"Yeah, I'll take a drink." I replied. "But do you even have a mixer?"

He grinned, like a little kid who had a secret that he was about to tell. "We do, actually. I got them yesterday. Even a couple of options for you, in case you changed your mind about drinking." He replied, jumping up from the bed.

I watched him roll out a giant red cooler, that was stuck under the desk/dresser, and open it.

"We got Sprite, Coke, Mountain Dew, Pink Lemonade, Fruit Punch, and, as disgusting as it sounds, pickle juice. I don't know why anyone would use that." He pretended to gag and shook his head.

I laughed.

"It's because it rehydrates you, dummy." I replied.

"For real?" Sam asked.

"How do you know that?" Colby asked, narrowing his eyes. "You don't drink."

"Yeah, but over half of my family are alcoholics. I know a lot about it." I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, I'll stick with drinking two gallons of water the next day, cuz nuh uh. That's fucking nasty." He said, shivering in disgust.

"Even more so, if you're a weirdo that doesn't like pickles." I quipped, as I bumped him with my shoulder.

"Me?! Weird?! I'm offended! It's the pickle lovers that are weird. Why would anyone treat a poor, defenseless cucumber like that?" He exclaimed, using exaggerated hand gestures to emphasize his point.

"You're a dork." I laughed. "A dork with no taste."

"No, you're a nasty pickle lover." He replied, bumping me back. "I have impeccable taste."

"Yeah, whatever." I exclaimed. "What kind of vodka did you get?"

"Oh." He said, jumping up from the bed. "I got the sour watermelon. Like you used to drink. That's why I got the Pink Lemonade."

"You remember that?" I asked.

That was my drink of choice, when I had the option. I didn't have that option at most high school parties. I mean, come on, we were a bunch of kids who would drink the cheapest thing that we could.

On the occasion that I did, I made it every single time.

"I did." He replied, softly, giving me one of those slow smiles.

I felt my cheeks flush and my heart speed up.

Christ, what was he doing to me?

"Well, are you gonna make me one or do I need to do it myself?" I joked, trying to cover the fact that my body was reacting in a way that it should not be, in reference to him.