Addiction in August | Completed

Chapter 11: Insight

Insight

      I admire how Max and I are matching as he leads me toward the far side of the room. He really does look good, too. His beard is trimmed and the back of his shirt is stretched across the wide span of his shoulders, wrinkle-less. When I look down at our conjoined hands, I remember the end of the tattoo I saw on his arm, for whatever reason. I wonder if I'll ever get to see it.

"What do you want?" Max asks, and I realize he's now leaned against the short bar. "A sprite?"

"Hm?" I ask, stunned into reality when he lets go of my hand. I look past him to see the bartender staring at us expectantly.

"No alcohol, right? Or just not a fan of whiskey?" Max asks.

I smile and tell him, "Right... Water's fine."

Max nods his head and looks back to the bartender, who heard what I said. He tells him, "And a whiskey sour for me."

When the bartender leaves us, Max shuffles to the corner of the bar and out of other people's way. I follow like a puppy and I see that when he stops, we're far enough away from anyone so that we can have a private conversation.

"So," he starts to say, looking at me with expectancy. "What's the matter? Is the owner a dick or something?"

I can't help but laugh, and say, "No. Alice's not a dick, she's... different, but not bad."

"Alice," he repeats, the name holding a silent question.

"We went to the same high school, not that we were too close. She was a lot cooler than me. Anyway, we dated the same guy and he got me a slot here tonight. I'm not nervous, though, it's not like a big money opportunity or anything... It's just a little exposure, I guess? I don't know."

"Interesting... A lot to unpack in what you just said."

"Like?"

"Well, you still talk to your ex?"

I find a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Yeah, we're still friends. He's actually here tonight."

"Ah, cool," he said, and it surprises me that it sounds genuine.. "But are you sure you're okay?

"Yeah, Max. I'm sure, I promise. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your night or anything."

"You didn't."

"Oh, okay," I say, looking down to see the bartenders placing our drinks in front of us.

Max reaches for his drink, looking like he wants to say something. Finally, he does, "You know, if you want to come over after this, we can talk."

"To your... apartment?"

"Yes, to my apartment."

"... Talk about what?"

"Anything," he says, rolling his eyes. "Or you don't have to? Is someone holding a gun to your back? You can say no, August."

"No," I say, and see a quick flash of embarrassment in his face before it goes away. "I mean— yes. I'd like to come over. But I thought we were going clubbing...?"

"I don't really want to," he replies. Then after a pause he says, "It didn't seem like you did, either."

I shake my head and take a ginger sip of water.

"Then we won't go," he says simply.

"...Okay."

"Auggie!" I hear before warm arms encircle my waist from behind as I'm facing the bar.