neighborhood shit, pt. II

“I’m so glad you were able to come by tonight!” my phone chimed as I pulled the truck onto the main road.
“I am, too!” I quickly typed and dropped my phone into the center console.
The sunset was smeared across the sky. I’d been crying so much these days that I didn’t even feel the tears casually streaking my cheeks.

Queen of taking the long way home on the days that have overstayed their welcome.
What’s the cure for a heavy heart, if not whiskey?

“Hi baby!” I squealed to the brunette behind the bar.
“Hi honey!” She called back to me, counting tips, as she slid her eyes down the bar.
My eyes followed hers, and they landed on a friendly sight at the other end.
“Hey!” I heard him call out to me.

I didn’t see his truck when I pulled into the parking lot. I didn’t see much of anything at all the entire way there, to be honest. Shout out to muscle memory for getting me there safely.

A fleeting memory of the night before crossed my mind.
“I’m sorry things are so hard right now,” he told me, “You’re a tough girl.”
I tried to play it cool. I’m always trying to play it cool.

“How are you?” I sang to Amanda.
“Don’t you dare sit on that stool!” He called to me from 30 feet away.

I swung a leg over the stool between him and another guy, and immediately caught onto the fact he was annoyed with the amount of small talk that was being done by the strangers around him. He grabbed at my thigh the way he always does before he steals a kiss. I pretended to not feel it. I pretended to not feel like I wanted to unbutton his wranglers and gobble his dick in front of everyone in that bar.

“You get a new car?” He nodded towards the keys that had been sitting in front of me on the bar.
I sighed. “No… I’m just- uh… test driving.”
The bartender scrunched her nose at my story.
Most of this bar had seen what happened to my car just a few weeks before.

Just one more, we kept hollering to her.

“So, what do you want for your birthday this year?” He asked me, 4 whiskeys later, “A baby goat?”
I laughed as I caught a glimpse of my contact photo in his phone.
You’re the prettiest girl in my phone, he told me on the couch last summer when he updated it.
“Just your hand in marriage, will be fine I guess.” I pushed another empty glass to the bar mat.
He slapped my ass as he stood up, “Maybe it’s time.”

I tried to play it cool. I’m always trying to play it cool.