This Diary I Found

09 :: No Van Gogh

CHAPTER 9: No Van Gogh

The pain in my nose numbed down a couple of vodka shots later. I didn't even remember how many I've had. Maybe somewhere between 5 and 20? Vague, I know. Could you blame me?

I was about to down another shot when it got snatched out of my hand.

"Hey!" I slurred, but my expression lightened when I saw a familiar Asian girl on the stool next to mine.

She was a hard contrast to the grimy bar that we were in. What with her baby face and childlike features, you'd never know she'd be in these types of clubs.

"Cassie!" I garbled, slinging an arm over her shoulders as she took the shot.

"You're drunk," she said, stating the obvious.

"So observant," I commented sarcastically, beckoning the barkeep for one more drink.

When the drink arrived, Cass quickly snatched it and gulped in down in one go.

"Fine, we can do this all night," I said, signaling for another glass, but Cassie caught my arm before I could.

"Trev, whatever it is that you're going through, alcohol isn't the solution," she said.

I chuckled. "Technically, alcohol is a solution."

She sighed. "What happened?" This time, she was the one who ordered the drinks.

I didn't speak up until I had a shot in my hand. "Louie found out," I said.

Her eyebrows shot up. "About you and--"

"London?" I cut her off. "Yup."

"Oh, boy."

"My sentiments exactly," I said, gulping down the devil drink. "Hey, wanna get out of here?"

Cassie easily caught on to the suggestion. Of course, she would. We've been playing this game for a while now. But she snickered at my suggestion, saying, "Alcohol might technically be solution but I don't think sex is."

"Why don't we try it and find out?" I proposed, twirling strands of her black hair on my fingers.

She leaned in closer. "Hey, Trevor?"

"Hmm?"

"Your inner fuckboy is showing," she whispered, pushing me back.

"Oh, come on, Cass," I whined. "Why you so uptight tonight?"

"I'm not," she replied. "But you're being an asshole."

"I'm always an asshole." I shrugged.

"Not always," she commented. "That is why I am taking you home. Come on."

She hopped down the barstool and tugged on my arm. Seeing the Asian girl's efforts to get me to stand, I humored her and stood up. Only, I stood up too fast with too much alcohol in my system.

My legs wobbled the moment I tried to take a step. And the next thing I knew, I was face plant on the floor.

How Cassidy got me home that evening, I didn't even know. But I woke up the next morning with one hell of a hangover and in my bedroom. There was a glass of water and a note on my bedside table.

"Fubus take care of each other," Cassie wrote with a winky face emoji at the bottom. I reached over grabbed a green notebook from my bottom drawer and held it up along with the note.

The cursive penmanship on Cassie's note was way different than the one in the diary. It was final. Cassidy Sijin-Franck wasn't the diary writer. But even though she wasn't the one, Cassie was still a special girl for me.