"I was surprised to hear from you."
Two huge green eyes peered at me over the top of some vile looking fruity cocktail drink. We had moved from the bottom story of the cramped piano bar to its roomy patio for a little fresh air.
I took a long drag from my cigarette. "It's good to see you, Brittney," I said, and followed it with another drag. It's a bad habit, I know. My mom always told me that even saints sin, so I consider this my sin. Well... one of them anyway.
What was I doing here? I didn't really know. I needed to stop thinking for just one night. Brittney and I had a few classes together, but we'd never hung out off campus before. She'd been out tonight for a friend's birthday party and asked me if I wanted to grab a drink.
I didn't know why I was here, but I didn't really have a reason NOT to be here, neither.
"We don't know too much about each other. Let's change that," she said.
"What's there to know?
Over the next hour, Brittney and I talked about our childhoods and what we plan to do once we graduate.
"Are you going to be a good teacher or a mean teacher?"
"A MEAN teacher, of course!" I said with a laugh.
She rolled her eyes at me. "I don't believe you could be mean if you tried, Mr. Cullen," she said. "I'm going to be nice to the kids but mean to the parents."
"Your principal is going to love you!"
"What's not to love," she said with a laugh. "I'm stealing the next question, too. I see you on campus a lot with friends. Well, with a lady friend. Anything I should know?"
Brittney had a warm smile and kind eyes that looked a bit apprehensive at the moment. She twirled her drink's umbrella in her fingers as she waited for me to answer.
"Bella is a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in... an extremely confusing and messy burrito," I began.
She narrowed her eyes at me, visibly trying to figure out what existed in the mile-wide lines I'd left for her to read between. "Well, I don't really know what means, but I definitely want Chipotle now."
The girl was funny. I really liked that about her.
"Bella and I lived on the same floor in college. She called me a wrong name the first month we knew each other. And she still calls me 'Ernesto' when she's feeling feisty."
"That's a terrible name!"
"Try being called it by your entire floor for a full year! We just hit it off and have been very close ever since," I finished.
"I'm sorry if it seems I'm asking a lot of questions," Brittney said. "But my boyfriend of four years left me for another girl earlier this year, so I'm feeling very cheated by your kind at the moment. I just want to make sure I'm not stepping where I shouldn't step."
"Bella and I have never been anything official," I said honestly. "We've both had our own partners off and on the entire time we've known each other."
I watched as Brittney oddly put her hand up to her face, peeked between her fingers and grimaced. "Have you...?"
Ah, so she was embarrassed to ask. Truth be told, I was feeling a little embarrassed to tell.
"Had Chipotle tonight? No, but it's all I can think about now! Thanks," I said with a laugh. "But, honestly, can we save that question for another time?"
She bit down on her straw and sweetly nodded her head.
We hung out at the bar until we decided to call it a night around 1:30.
"Thanks for walking me home," she told me as she climbed up the extremely dilapidated steps to her front porch.
"I think you're a good one, Mr. Cullen. I would love to see you again."
"I think I'd like that too," I replied.
"Until then," she said softly as she opened the door and disappeared into her house.
As I walked home, I tried to referee the competing thoughts in my brain. Brittney. Bella. Beer.
It had been a long day.
Long fucking day.
I didn't know what I was doing. Part of me wanted to make Bella jealous by going out with Brittney. Part of me knew I needed to cut the cord for a while and distance myself from Bella. Yet there was always a small part of me that thought it was a great idea to call Bella and ask her to come over.
George Santayana said that those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. I'm not a fucking tortured guy, so why do I feel like I am absolutely miserable? Because I want what I can't have. And it's consuming me. Because I'm doing the same fucking thing every single day and expecting a different outcome.
I stumbled up my front steps and suddenly realized how much I had to drink over the course of the night. My brain churned as my stomach rolled. I couldn't keep living like this.
I leaned over the railing and took deep breaths in and out. In and out. In and out.
"Hey," I jumped as a voice appeared out of nowhere.
Bella.
"How was your….. 'date?'" She asked, making a face.
"It's late, Bella," I told her as I struggled to fit my key in the lock.
"Not really," she argued. "It's usually about this time every Friday.."
"Not tonight, Bella."
She hugged me from behind and started rubbing my chest.
"Can I come in?"
"Let's just talk tomorrow," I told her and finally made my way through the door.
"You're seriously not going to let me inside?"
I turned around and looked in her eyes. "I can't do this anymore, Bella. I can't. I'm sorry. You know how I feel."
I saw her lips tremble. "You don't want me?"
"No, Bella," I sighed. "The problem is that I want you too much. And you seem to only want me when you're drunk. I can call you a cab, but I can't do this."
Her eyes steeled over and she turned away from me.
"Whatever, Edward," she muttered and walked away.