PYKE
“Thanks for coming back, man.” I look at Kyland after serving me a drink. It’s been a week since we talked and that was on New Year’s Eve.
“I’m not doing this for you, asshole. This is for Mom and your parents.” He shoots me a glare and goes to the next customer two stools away from me and serves her a drink.
“Boss, good to see you again,” says Forrest.
“Happy New Year, dude. Tell Wright to see me in my office.” I drain the smooth as silk bourbon into my mouth and get on my feet.
“Okay,” Forrest says tentatively, eyeing me in a more confused look.
I leave the bar, walking directly to the hallway that leads to my office. The music is still blaring, but enough for me to sullen again.
My mind goes back to Camila. I stayed drunk before getting home so that I won’t remember how I hurt her in front of my door. I missed her—everything about her, how she rode me on my couch, how I ate her on that wall, and
