There is no such thing as being cold; there is only the absence of heat so there is no hate, there is only an absence of love.
James McNair slides the bottle towards me. I don’t hesitate. I just take it between my fingers and sip the beer through clenched teeth. He knows that I can handle it but he doesn’t know that I am screaming inside and that I need the trigger to let go.
“Just keep it light, buddy,” he says softly. He has messy dark hair that curls behind his ears, small dark brown eyes and fair skin. I would call him good-looking but I don’t want to be called gay. Sitting next to him is Tristan Patterson who’s got long black hair tied in a ponytail and a long nose. He might’ve been called gay as well but he looks cool that way. He’s not drinking anything for the night.
“What happened anyway?” Tristan asks and his eyebrows tug in confusion.
“The usual,” I answer and Evan O’Neil claps me on the back. He’s the one sitting next to me and he has light brown curly hair and large light brown eyes with glasses. He frowns.
“It’s alright, man,” he says, “It’s just two years left before we all go to college.”
“Which means two more years of hell,” I sneer and I take a long drag of beer. I’m starting to feel lightheaded now.
I put the bottle down and James gives me a hard look.
“Maybe you just need an anchor,” he says, “Something to keep you at bay so that you won’t go insane or depressed or maybe your inspiration; something to keep you going even when life throws all everything it’s got at you.”
“What, we guy friends aren’t enough to cheer you up?” Tristan jokes and he gets my answer when I say nothing. Absolutely nothing to correct or agree with him because James is right.
I need to find an anchor and my inspiration.
