After talking to my parents, I still feel hollow and sad. I rub my face. I check my phone, and I still find no message from her. I remember the picture she sent to me, our picture together at the Gardner. I open it.
She’s so beautiful—her eyes were vibrant and happy, her hair is a little bit messy, but it makes her look feminine, and those dimples were so deep that make her look so ravishing. Her lips—those lips that I kissed senselessly, and those lips that are once all over me. God, Abby, what have you done to me?
I need another drink.
I take a bottle of whiskey from my minibar and pour it directly into my mouth. It burns my throat, but I don’t f*****g care. I drink half of it and grab my keys. I take the bottle with me. I go down to my parking area and press the button on my key. Gre
