Twenty One

I finish my beer and ask for a vodka soda next. I should probably stick to my plan and head back to my room. But what I should do and what I want to do are two different things.

Even if I go to my room right now, I doubt I’ll be able to catch a wink of sleep. Not with the image of him and that girl burned into my mind.

I finish my drink and ask for another one. I have a different plan. Get drunk enough that when I go to bed, I’ll collapse on the mattress and not wake up until morning.

Or get drunk and have enough courage to go and ask him what the fuck he is doing without giving a shit whether he thinks I’m being clingy or not.

I remember that day on my house’s front porch, when Jared said I claim to want something real but always end up with coldhearted players.

Maybe what he really meant to say was that I was the reason it always ends up like that. Because it’s true, isn't it? I wouldn’t be hurt by bad boys and players if I didn’t let them, would I?

For eight months, I was perfectly