Intoxicated

Chapter Five

Something's off. Not just with me, or everything that's happened. Dad's acting weird. I wouldn't have noticed unless I glanced at the front, to look at the darkening road ahead - too wound up in my thoughts.

I wish they'd be quiet. For once.

He shifts in his seat, and opens his mouth to speak, but presses them shut. "Look," Dad begins as we drive along the road. "I know I haven't been the best dad lately, but..." he trails off, his eyes narrowing towards the window before settling at the front. "But I will be. I have more work tomorrow, so we'll start getting more income and... I don't know. We could..." he glances over at me, just before his eyes bulge from their sockets.

He slams on the brake. The car jolts back with a sickening screech. My air ways seem to snap shut as a dark figure flashes by the front of the car, disappearing into the night.

I swallow hard. Gasping, I dig my nails into either side of the seat. "That - did we -"

He lets out a shaky sigh. "No, it was just a stupid possum. It's okay." He assures me, peering out his window.

I follow his gaze, only to see a small, round possum scurrying into the treeline. But -

"I'm sorry, I should've been paying more attention," he says, shooting me an apologetic look. "Are you okay?"

I nod weakly, forcing my shoulders to drop. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He pauses for a moment - a moment I should prompt him to keep talking or ask him if he's okay. But I don't. I just sit there as he continues to drive, his brows furrowed together.

The screech. The figure. An image flickers in my mind.

Alex, stumbling onto the road, running a hand through his tousled dark hair. Glancing up, only to be met with a blinding light and then nothing. Darkness.

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. Don't cry. Not now. He's at peace. It didn't hurt. Or if it did, it doesn't now. He is okay. He wants you to be okay, too.

By the time we get there, it's pitch black. The street lights are on, cars whizz by like big, dark shadows. But there's a chaotic calm to it. 

I half climb out of the car before turning to Dad. "I'll order," I insist, knowing he's just as much of a people person as I am. Which I'm not, for clarification. "What do you want?"

He runs a hand through his short cut brown hair. "Pepperoni would be nice, and some garlic bread."

I nod and step out of the car. "I'll get some coke, too." Anything to keep him off alcohol, I think as I shut the door. The cool night breeze caresses my exposed skin.

I walk over to the pizza place and push open the door, the overwhelming scent of melted cheese and freshly baked crust invades my nostrils. It's warm here. I step up to the counter, only to meet a familiar face. Too familiar.

Oh god. Dread churns in my stomach.

His eyes meet mine, dark, strands of his rustic brown hair falling in front of his face. He pauses for a moment, as if coming to the same realisation.

It's him.

He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his fist. Trying to appear unbothered. "What would you like?"

My mouth turns dry. "Er, just a pepperoni pizza with garlic bread and two cans of coke, thanks."

He nods nonchalantly. "Cool. It'll be ready soon." He adds, heading into the kitchen.

A small flare of fury sparks inside of me. Damn it. You should've said something. Anything.

I take a seat in the corner, staring out onto the street. I try to push away any thoughts other than that I'm here, getting pizza for dinner. Trying to focus on that alone. Not the fact that it's him, Noah, one of Jace's lapdogs - working at the one and only pizza place in town. 

I think I can live without pizza. Butter chicken works just fine.

I look at him from the corner of my eye, watching him pretend to busy himself at the counter. Disappearing behind it and into the kitchen, staying as far away from me as he can in this small building. Utensils clang in the background, along with sizzles and the creak of an oven. God knows why - I'm the only one here.

Mind you, they'd have deliveries, too. 

I'd like to deliver a cold-cut knuckle sandwich to -  The realisation dawns on me. I can ask him about what Jace said, what Alex did. 

I could, but... confrontation. I find myself biting my nail. I shove my hand back into my pocket. This may be my only chance. I have to do this. 

For Alex. And me - mainly me.

I rise to my feet, my heart quickening as I step up to the counter. We make eye contact, his flickering with something - fear, maybe. Or it could be my own reflecting in his. "Hey -"

He ducks into the kitchen, a shout coming from it. 

Goddamnit, what is he - 

Noah emerges, holding out a pizza with garlic bread and two Cokes. "Order's ready."

I trace my tongue over my lips, tentatively taking it from him. Ask him. Now. Go go go - "T-thanks," I say, pressing the box against my chest so it doesn't fall. He taps away at the till. "Look, about -"

The bell dings behind me. We both turn to look. 

Noah puts on a half-hearted smile as another customer walks up to the counter. "Hello, how can I help you?"

I'm already stepping back, giving him a begrudging glare before marching out the door. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I think as I make my way to the car, Dad slumped in his seat, watching me as I climb in. 

"You all good?" he asks as I slam the door shut, setting the stuff on my lap and buckling up.

I set my jaw. "Yep." I should've just asked him. Right then and there. 

Dad narrows his eyes before starting the car, and pulling out of the parking lot. "Thank you, hon."

I press my lips together, and stare out the window yet again. Annoyance smoulders inside of me, just like this stupid, greasy pizza box that's hot against my lap. I tuck my hands under it, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. Coward. My stomach grumbles. I'm definitely hangry this time.

Now I'll never find out what happened. 

Butter chicken won't do, I decide - but pizza will. It'll have to do, it's the only chance I'm gonna get.