At some point, I ran out of tequila. And by that point, I wasn't drunk enough, and certainly sober enough to make a trip back to the kitchen for another liquor hunt.
So, I went into the kitchen, and looked around for liquor. And I also noticed it was too quiet. I poked my head around the door to see Cayden attached to John. Both of them looked like they were enjoying it more than they should have, and I'm pretty sure that alcohol had nothing to do with that.
I didn't feel another panic attack coming on, like I'd expected. I just felt empty. In the back of my head, there was a voice babbling about how drunk they are, and how it was probably meaningless. But it wasn't a convincing voice, it was a hysterical one.
Instead of going back to my liquor hunt, I walked back into the back yard, wondered vaguely what to do with myself, before ending up in a street I don't recognise.
I have never seen this road before in my life. So how I ended up sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, my head in my hands and trying to figure out where the nearest off-licence might be, is totally beyond me.
Brushing my hand up my arm, I feel my nicotine patch sort of peeling off and I pick it off absently. I don't want a fucking patch. I want a cigarette, cancer or no cancer. In fact, alcohol and a cigarette, and somewhere that isn't in a road, would be brilliant right now.
I look up tiredly, glancing down the residential road, wondering how the fuck I'm going to find my way to an off-licence from here. I heave a sigh, and rub my eyes. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I freeze for a second, before fishing it out and looking at the screen.
"Wat am I gna do w/ u, eh? Lol. I cn come get you if u want." Alex. Oh god. I wasn't texting Alex, was I? A quick flick through my sent messages tells me all I need to know. Drunk, rambling, whiney texts, asking him to come take me home.
Groaning, I figure it's easier to call him, than it is to keep texting.
"Hey, Max," he says, a smile in his voice.
"Lex," I mutter, "I'm sorry about the texts... I was clearly more drunk than I thought."
"It's fine. Are you okay?" Oh, haha. Funny boy.
"No," I snap, "I'm lost, I have a headache, my boyfriend was making out with his ex and enjoying it more than he should have, and I've only just realised that I spent my self pitying walk texting you. How can I be fucking okay?"
"Chill," I can still hear him smiling. Apparently me shouting down the phone at him doesn't bother him. "I didn't make you start going out with a whore." Of course. You running off with some bint had nothing to do with it.
"Sure. Y'know, we'd have been together nine and a half years by now if you hadn't fucked off with a whore of your own," I say coldly and he's quiet for a while.
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, Max," he murmurs. Hah. Not smiling now are you. Wanker.
"So you fucking should be."
"I've been trying to tell you that I wanna make it up to you somehow since I got back, Maxxie. Just say the word, and I'll do it," he pauses, apparently waiting for me to say something. When I don't, he continues, "want me to kick Cayden's ass for you?" I shake my head, and then remember he can't see.
"No, not really," I whisper.
"Hmm?" he asks, apparently unable to hear what I'd said.
"No... he was drunk," I exhale gustily, closing my eyes, "I shouldn't have freaked out. It was just a drunk kiss. Right?"
"Probably, Maxxie. You don't sound convinced, though."
"Hows about I find a motel nearby...? You don't know anyone else there, but I can be there, if you want."
"I don't care. I'll make Hadley beat him up if I have to."
"His brother." I sigh, running my free hand through my hair as I look up at a passing car. "I gotta go. If you turn up and make this worse, I'm going to kill you." I hang up, and pull myself to my feet, suddenly realising why I'd plonked myself on the sidewalk.
In that moment, I almost wanted Alex there. All I wanted was a hug, and to be told it would be okay.
And maybe a cigarette.