Grace

2- the next morning.

When I woke up the next morning, I noticed Angel had put a couple blankets on me and must've lifted my head to put a pillow underneath it. I surprisingly felt okay. I think I was starting to get numb from all of this. All of him.

I normally slept in her guest room. It was beautiful. She always made sure it was clean and decorated for me. It was more MY room than the "guest room".

Angel made me her special coffee. The one with whiskey in it, that she has every morning. Her remote hours were flexible. It was a Thursday and we had slept in half the day. I didn't even bother to check my phone. There were probably a dozen missed calls from Hunter, when he realized I wasn't home. He always knew I would go to Angel's house, but he still felt insecure enough to call a dozen times. 

Angel had a screened in back porch, with super fancy, expensive chairs. Ones that I could never afford. She sat the way she was sitting when I pulled up to her house at midnight the night before. We sat there and talked for what felt like hours. I think it was hours. She was probably so tired of picking up all the pieces every time Hunter breaks me. 

When I finally looked at my phone, nothing. I was happy about it, but slightly worried. What if he didn't come home from the bar? What if he's dead in a ditch somewhere? I started to panic. I called him. He answered saying, "What?"

"I'm just making sure you're not dead". I said.

"Well, I'm not," he kept it short and snippy. 

"Okay, bye." I said.

"When are you coming home?" He started to seem to care. 

"You already know I'll probably stay a few days", I sounded sympathetic, even though I wasn't trying to be.

Angel looked concerned the whole time I was on my phone call... She only rolled her eyes once. Which was surprising for her. I loved that about her. She always knew when people were bad for me. She always stood firm on her opinions and firm by my side. She never once betrayed me. But she did get pissed every time Hunter would say he's sorry and that he won't make the same mistakes again. I didn't blame her for being pissed. He always did make the same mistakes again.

She gestured for me to hang up the phone. She was over my call.

"I have to go," I told him. "Angel's about to make us strawberry margaritas and needs help cutting the tops off of the strawberries."

"Bye" was all he could say.

It wasn't a lie though. She really was making strawberry margaritas. She always knew they would cheer me up. 

He was always jealous of Angel. He thought we were in love with each other because he never understood what it was like to have a best friend. Especially one from childhood. He was always so mean to his friends that they wouldn't stick around for long. I guess I should've saw that as a red flag. He probably only had one close friend, and even then they weren't even that close.

As she handed me my margarita, I sipped it with pure bliss. My favorite. I liked it even better than I liked my rum. 

We decided to watch more movies. By now it was 4pm. We flipped through the channels. Nothing seemed intriguing enough for us. We had no clue what we wanted to watch. She just decided to pick something and turned it on. We spent the rest of the night doing the same thing we did the night before. And so on.