Bittersweet Symphony (Bittersweet #4)(24)

I reach into the back of the car and pull out the bottle of whiskey. I wasn’t much of a drinker until college. I still don’t like it except for that it’s a really good way to numb out the shit in my life, to remove the pain and cloud the shitty picture.

“Are you going to drink that whole bottle?” she asks as her eyes examine the bottle in my hands. Her eyes show just how worried she is for me. Am I going to drink this whole bottle? Probably not, but I can try.

“No,” I say, twisting the cap off and putting the bottle to my mouth. Her eyes grow wide again. I don’t know if she likes drinking or not, but I swore if she says she doesn’t want me to drink, I will put the bottle down.

Then she does something totally unexpected. She reaches across the center console to grab the bottle from my hands and brings it up to her own pink, plump lips. I want so badly to grab her and bring her onto my lap. Her eyes close tightly as she takes a swig then shoves the bottle back at me.

“That is the worst shit ever,” she says, her eyes watering. With a disgusted look on her face, she wipes the small droplets of whiskey that are left on her lips with the back of her hand.

“It is pretty strong for a half pint like yourself,” I say, slamming back a chug or two. The warm liquid flows down my throat and into my belly, immediately warming me all over.

We sit quietly watching the sunset as more and more cars park around us. They aren’t up here for nearly the same thing as us, to admire the beauty of life. Then again, I wouldn’t mind doing what they are doing with Kennedy.

She reaches across the seat again for the bottle. This time I stop her though. Her eyes linger on me, and I have to force myself not to reach across and grab her.

“I want a drink…” Looking at Kennedy, never in a million years did I think I would have found someone like her.

“Here,” I say, giving her the bottle. I reach for the door handle and get out. I go to the trunk and get out the blanket I have back there. I’m not the romantic type, but I’m not going to make her sit on the ground. She is like a fine China to me.

“What are you doing?” she asks slightly giggly as she gets out of the car. She holds the bottle firmly in her hands. She looks calm, maybe even free.

“Are you drunk already?” I joke. I know she doesn’t drink, so I know she needs to go slowly, especially with whiskey. No matter what way you looked at it, she is a lightweight.

“Negative, ghost rider.” I pass her, slipping the bottle from her hands and into mine. I shoot her a smile that has most girls spreading their legs. I lay the blanket down over the small sprigs of grass. There are rocks on both sides of us, and it kind of feels like a little fort with the trees above as our canopy.

“Good. I don’t want to have to carry you back to the car.” I actually wouldn’t mind carrying her anywhere, to hold her body in my hands, to run my fingers over the dips and curves of her luscious…

“Can I ask you something?” she asks, interrupting my very nice thoughts.

“Sure. Isn’t that the point of today? Getting to know one another?” I have to know her more than anyone else.

“I suppose…” Her voice stops and her eyes grow large. I see a terror and agonizing pain flow through her. Someone behind us is making a bunch of racket, but I didn’t pay it any attention until now.

I turn around, taking notice of a chick being bent over the hood of a car. To me it is not a big deal, but to virgin ears well… I’m sure it is disturbing. Not so disturbing that it should scare her, though.

Then I hear it: the scream of a woman, the woman face down on the car. Above her I can see a man, about my height holding her firmly in place with one hand as he uses his other hand to undo his zipper.

It is then that I see red. Every bone in my body pushes to bring this f*cker to the end of his life. I’m a douche, but not even I would do something like that.

I get up, hearing Kennedy’s protest to not start a fight. Once I am directly behind him, I tap him on the shoulder. The girl struggles to get free, whimpering.

“What the f*ck….” he mutters, taken completely by surprise as he turns around. It’s then that I pull my fist back, plowing right into his nose over and over again. He’s a disgrace to the male species and I don’t stop until there’s blood coating my hands and Kennedy’s screaming.

I look up from the mess, the reality of what I’ve done sinking in. I release the man, but not before getting a look at his face. Sam? Suddenly it all makes sense. He rolls over to his side, groaning loudly. I kick his foot, wanting him to get up so I can deliver another blow to his face. I could kick him, but I’m not the type to kick a man when he’s down. That’s more my father’s thing.

“Get up!” I yell. I know everyone’s eyes are on me. I know Kennedy is scared, but at that moment, nothing matters to me more than making this pitiful excuse of a human pay. He gets to his knees, his chin raising ever so slowly.

“You’ll pay for this,” he says, spitting blood from his mouth.

I should feel badly, but I don’t. I bend down, gripping his jaw in my hand. My fingers ache to crush his jaw, so he can never mutter another word to anyone.

“Next time you try and take advantage of a woman, maybe make sure there isn’t anyone around to hear her screams. Or better yet, just don’t do it.” I can’t help myself as I bring my knee quickly to his chin. Sam falls to the ground helplessly. His body gives out.