Against the Odds

Chapter 7

"Why are you wearing sunglasses?" Kimmy asks as I listlessly sit down in front of her. "It's raining."

The sound of her high-pitched voice is causing my brain to vibrate. I woke up this morning with a pounding headache, the kind where looking at anything white or bright causes your eyes to shake. I didn't think I was that drunk last night. I mean, I didn't feel sober, but this? This is why I have the four limit rule. Stupid evil brown elixir.

"This is barbaric. Why did you drag me out of the house?" I whine. "Also, why aren't you dead today? You probably had way more to drink after Hunter and I left."

"Oh yeah! I was totally out of it. Jack had to carry me to my bed!" Kimmy laughs. "But, I woke up around 3 a.m. and puked for an hour, so ta-da! Cured!"

A waiter sets down two large iced lattes on our table. Kimmy must have ordered them while she was waiting. I grab one and take a massive sip.

"Kimmy!" I shriek spitting the latte back into the glass goblet, drops of white cream splash all over my face. I remove my sunglasses. "What is this?!"

Kimmy slowly places the straw in her mouth and mumbles.

"Kimmy..."

"Coffee!" Kimmy exclaims and looks sideways. "Of the Irish variety."

"How much "Irish" did you ask them to put in here?!"

Kimmy shrugs. "I don't know? I just told them to replace the milk with Bailey's."

Shaking my head I flag down the waiter and order a regular iced latte. Kimmy frowns.

"You're crazy. You know that, right? It's 11 a.m." The subtle hint of whiskey lingers in my mouth as I take a sip of ice water.

"Hey! I did this for you! Hair of the dog, or whatever," Kimmy says defensively. "Sorry for caring about your hangover!"

I sigh. "Thanks, I appreciate the gesture but I'll just take some more ibuprofen and ride this out like a normal person."

Kimmy scoffs. "Whatever, suit yourself!"

We sit in silence as the waiter returns with my new drink, Kimmy shooting me death glares every time our eyes meet.

This is our classic stand-off. It's like we're cowboys, and this quaint wall-papered café is the desert, and our mouths are the pistols; except if you shoot first, you lose. We're sitting at about 100 to 2, in my favour, but it's cute that Kimmy thinks she has a chance. I can sense she's about to break, her tiny body literally can't handle this much silence.

"OK! Enough, you win!" Kimmy yells. I smile. 101 to 2. "Tell me about your night! I'm dying to know. DYING!"

And we're back.

I give Kimmy a detailed run down of the night, purposely omitting the Jason parts.

"He totally likes you!" Kimmy squeals. "Oh my God, how adorable would it be if we married brothers? We'd be like sisters-in-law and our kids would be cousins and we could all live in a Brownstone together!"

"I think Hunter needs to take me on a real date first," I laugh. "Plus, we just met. I don't think we're going to get married anytime soon."

"Ok, I know that!" Kimmy sighs. "But could you imagine how fun it would be?"

I glance up to the ceiling and try to visualize Kimmy's picture; Jack, Kimmy, Hunter and I sitting around a dining room table laughing about something we read in the Sunday paper but then the picture tears in half. "I guess so... but for all we know, Hunter could be one of those guys who never wants to get married." Like Miles.