A New Normal

Chapter 9: Liar

The elevated mood I had been in at the bar is long gone. The air is now heavier, the atmosphere darker, and my aggravation increased. "Eat," he demands, pushing the paper plate toward me. The scowl on my face deepens at the authority in his voice. I ignore the urge to shift in my seat, to crack my knuckles, to play with my hair. I'm uncomfortable. This whole situation is uncomfortable. I feel as if I'm a child being forced to sit at the dinner table until all the food is gone.

Humiliated and annoyed.

I grin petulantly, playing into the child narrative. "I'm not hungry," I respond, over-enunciating every syllable and keeping my voice low. I've grown to hate the sound of silence. Though, Sam's snoring is providing more than enough noise. He passed out onto one of the beds right as we walked in the motel room. He didn't even stop to take his shoes off. There's nothing I'd love to be doing more right now than sleeping. My head is spinning, the euphoria of the alcohol has worn off, and the grumpiness has set in. I've been sitting at this rickety table for over forty-five minutes.

He grabs one of the potato chips and pops it into his mouth. His eyes never leave mine, he's adamant about the point he's trying to make. "You're gonna regret it in the morning."

"I'll live," I quip. My words come out harsh and quick.

"You're acting like a kid."

"Screw you," I hiss. "What- You're allowed to get drunk and I can't?" The hypocrisy is my only weapon in this conversation right now. My actions tonight have been juvenile and immature but I'm not going to admit that.

"That's not what this is about," he says, his voice calm and collected. It seems I'm the only irritated one in the room right now. "If you were responsible, we wouldn't be sitting here right now."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Not sleeping," he retorts, "drinking on an empty stomach, and sneaking off with random guys isn't what I'd call healthy."

I narrow my eyes at him, again, the hypocrisy is evident in this conversation. "You can go to hell."

He smirks and I feel my blood begin to boil under my skin. My cheeks heat up and I'm not sure if it's because I'm angry or if it's because of the alcohol. "Eat."

I drag the plate closer to me and pick up the burger. I rip off a small piece of it and shove it into my mouth, barely chewing before swallowing it. I hate to admit it, even to myself, but it feels good to put food into my body. "Happy?"

His mouth twists, forming a tight line. "What the hell is going on with you?" He gestures to me and I let a small breath out. "I'm trying to help you, Chrissie."

"Don't." I shrug and push the plate back toward him.

He sighs while a defeated looks takes over his face. "Look, I know things have been-"

"We don't need to do this," I say, cutting the rest of his sentence off. I know where it's going and I don't want to hear it. Especially in the state I'm in now, it'll just hurt me. He knows how to hurt me, he knows exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. He knows me better than anyone.

I intend to change that. If he continues this, I'm going to say things I'll regret. Things filled with longing, sorrow, and sadness. That's the Chrissie he knows. And that's who I intend to leave behind. "I don't want to hear anything else you have to say," I mumble, leaning over the table a bit.

The smirk seems to wipe itself off of Dean's face. And, I swear, I can see some color come to his cheeks. Like I've embarrassed him. "Now, you know how I've felt," he says, matching the tone of my voice.