Like A Bad Boy

~Chapter Twenty-Five~

            Three in the morning, the worst time to be awoken by a ringing phone, was the exact time I was graced with a phone call from the one and only Blane Cole. My heart skipped a beat when my gaze set on his name, but most definitely not in a good way.

            “What?” I harshly snapped into the receiver. As much as I wanted to ignore it, if he’s calling at this time of night something had to be wrong. A bad feeling would’ve settled in my stomach if I had ignored it.

            “Indie,” He whined, holding out the ‘e’. My eyes instinctively rolled. “Indie, come pick me up,” His words were slurred, meaning he was intoxicated.

            “Why are you drunk?” I demanded, sitting up in my bed. My elbows propped my body up.

            “Why does it matter?” He mumbled. “Just come get me, I made some mistakes,”

            “You can say that again,” I muttered under my breath. Shaking my head, I spoke again. “I shouldn’t help you,”

            “Yeah, you’re right,” He replied, before groaning in pain. “Shit,”

            “Blane, what happened?” My worrisome instincts kicked in before I could stop myself. I bit my tongue afterwards, scolding myself.

            “I just-“ There was some shouting in the background. It was then that his words came out quicker and more slurred. “Listen, just come please, I’m at some bar, like Linda’s or…shit,” And the line went down. A long breath exited my lips.

            Blane didn’t deserve my help. I didn’t deserve to worry over him like this. Yet, throughout these thoughts, I couldn’t help but continue to panic. The pit in my stomach only seemed to grow. After a mere two minutes, I had slipped on some sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, with one of the rental car keys in hand.

            The decision would be regretted, and that’s a fact. But that did nothing to stop me from climbing into the range rover and driving down the driveway. My fingers drummed along the steering wheel as I drove. Anxiety began to eat away at my brain as I flew down the empty streets.

            Blane was so stupid for going out. Earlier that night, I heard him getting in a cab, hell I heard him call it here. All the others had long since gone to bed. Of course, I had no clue what he was going to do, but I didn’t care. Now he’s dragged me into it. This is the point where we’re both fucked.

            The moment he got in trouble, I would be in trouble somehow also.

            Five minutes later, the car was parked in front of some random bar. ‘LuAnn’s Drinks’ was blinking above the doorway, and only a few cars cluttered around the street. Without any thought, I burst through the door with my eyes darting around the room. Dimly lit and filled with a smoky haze, you could see that the room had a decent amount of people in it.

            And then, there he was, slouched over a bar stool in the corner. A heavy sigh heaved from my lungs. My decision in helping him was the wrong one, but I still did it.

            “Blane,” I barked, still sighing in relief. He immediately sat up and turned to look at me. It was then that his wounds became evident. His lip was busted, and his eye blackened. A small gasp left my lips at the sight.

            Without speaking, he tossed some cash on the counter and tried to pathetically stand up, only to stumble back to the support of the bar. Quite frankly, he looked pathetic, and it gave my heartstrings a tug. It shouldn’t have, but I think what I should be feeling and doing for this boy are out of the window at this point.