Crazy Stupid Love (Crazy Love #1)(17)

“I... I should go.” She pants, stumbling backward slightly as she steps out of my embrace.

I open my mouth to speak but then close it again, not really sure what to say. Instead, I sit silently on my motorcycle under the dark night sky and watch her disappear from view.

Letting out a slow shaky exhale, I run my hands through my hair. What the f*ck was that? I can’t ever remember a time when a kiss has gotten me so worked up.

I must want this girl a lot more than even I realized.

****

“Wait, so let me get this straight. You took her out to dinner?” Gavin stares at me in disbelief from his bar stool. “Like a date?”

“Why is that so surprising?” I ask, not seeing the big deal.

“Because date is not part of your vocabulary, dude. I don’t think you’ve ever taken someone on a date.”

“It was just pizza at Maria and Bob’s place.” I shrug, taking a swig of my beer before setting it back down onto the counter.

The bar closed over an hour ago, but neither Gavin nor myself seems to be in any rush to call it a night.

“Still, dude, that’s huge for you.” He leans over the bar and drops his empty bottle into the trashcan.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. She’s not the kind of girl you just f*ck. She’s the kind of girl you get to know first.” I drain the rest of my beer, sliding my empty bottle towards Gavin who immediately drops it into the trashcan as well.

“That may be, but I’ve never known you to waste your time on girls that require any type of work to bag.” He lets out a gruff laugh.

“I don’t know, man, I’m just sick of the same old shit I guess. Women who are willing to spread their legs for anyone are a dime a dozen. Women like Kimber, now that’s a prize.”

“Whatever does it for you I guess.” He shrugs. “She got any hot friends that aren’t quite so difficult to woo into bed?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Maybe. Her friends that came here with her last weekend seem to fall under the work-free category from what I gathered.” I let out a slow exhale, stretching my arms.

“Then what are we waiting for?” He laughs.

“I’m not lining up girls for you to f*ck. You can take care of that shit yourself.” I open a fresh beer and toss the bottle cap at his face, laughing when it pings off the top of his forehead and then bounces to the floor.

“Not cool, dude.” He shakes his head before pushing out of the chair to his feet. “Alright, I’m over your pansy bullshit. I’m heading out.” He grabs his jacket off of the back of the bar stool, sliding it on.

“Be careful,” I say, knocking his fist with mine when he holds it out to me.

“Always am.” He throws on his cocky ass smile before practically skipping towards the exit. “Don’t forget to lock this shit,” he says, pushing the front door open; disappearing outside without another word.

The door no more than latches closed before I feel the onset of what has become almost a daily struggle in my life. Headaches so severe they are downright disorienting. I drop my head into my hands, the sudden and violent pain shooting through my skull causing the entire room to seem to shift sideways. I groan out, squeezing my forehead with my hand as I wait for the pain to pass. It always does, eventually.

Just another reminder of how much the accident changed. How much it changed me, both physically and emotionally. I guess that’s what happens when you suffer severe head trauma; it f*cks you up in all kinds of ways.

While the headaches are enough to bring me to my knees sometimes, they have nothing on the pain I feel festering deep within myself. I can take the physical pain, no matter how bad it gets. I think of it as somewhat of a punishment; God’s way of torturing me even further for what I’ve done.

Another sharp pain and my stomach twists violently, my body fighting to deal with the intensity of it. I struggle to take a deep breath, and it seems I can’t get my lungs full enough as the pain continues to grow.

“Fuuuuck,” I scream out, pushing against the bar as I try to fight through the feeling that my head is on the verge of exploding.

I try to focus on my breathing, forcing my lungs to inhale and exhale despite the fact that it feels like there is a thousand pounds sitting directly on top of my chest. But just when I feel like I can't take any more and my body has reached its capacity for the pain coursing through it, it eases, dying away completely within a matter of seconds.

Straightening my posture, I slowly open my eyes one at a time, afraid to push too hard too fast and have the pain come billowing back. Taking another deep breath, I push out of the bar stool, my body still feeling slightly shaky.

As soon as I’m sure it has passed, I make a grab for the bottle of whiskey directly across the bar from me. Not wasting my time on a glass, I tip the bottle to my lips and let the heated liquid drain down my throat.

When I finally resurface, a third of the bottle is gone and my chest burns like fire. I relish in the pain, the heat searing my insides as it soothes my mind.

Sliding on my jacket, I make my way towards the front door, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it the moment I step out into the chilly night air. Taking a deep drag, the smoke fills my lungs, calming me.

It always takes me a few minutes to come out of the daze my pain-riddled episodes leave me in, and tonight is no exception. Taking another hit from my cigarette, I try to focus on the taste, the smell, the way the nicotine seems to calm the small tremor still running through my hands.