Chambers of the Heart // Jake Kiszka

IV

Warnings: drinking; smoking

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On Friday it only seemed appropriate to go out and get drunk. It wasn't the best way to go about my emotions, but after my last encounter with Jake and me regretting washing away his scent he'd left on my sheets, all I could think about was drowning my anger, sadness and utter confusion in copious amounts of vodka with my best friend at my side.

I met Josh inside the hole-in-the-wall bar we'd been going to since we turned 21, a place that was a little rough around the edges but always fun. There was a pool table, a giant screen playing old movies–subtitled, so the music from the speakers could play uninterrupted–and cheap drinks and greasy bar food. In essence, all the things one could want for a mindless and familiar night out.

Even though I was there for Josh, I had done myself up to, one: feel good about myself and, two: maybe get some flattery from some other people. My mission was to drown out the little yet annoying crush on Jake with the vodka and also, maybe, with some lingering looks from strangers. At least they might be less cold than the looks he gave me.

I didn't need Jake's approval. I didn't even need him to like me.

"Ooh, look at you!" Josh cooed as I approached him at the bar, immediately reaching out to feel the silky fabric of my jacket. "Is this new?"

"It is," I told him, settling down on a bar stool, already laughing a little at his enthusiasm.

"I like it," he said, bringing his hand up to the tiny silver sun and moon pendant resting against my sternum. "Hey, I gave that to you for your birthday. What was it, two years ago?"

"I think so," I affirmed, glossing over his own outfit–black pants and a very familiar forest green and dark blue sweater, an orange sun stitched at the right side of the chest. He always looked cute, not to mention comfortable.

"First drink is on me," Josh announced, taking out his wallet. "Probably more after that, too. I'm just so grateful you're in my film."

"I really feel like I should be buying you the drinks," I replied, also taking out my wallet. "You're the one doing all the work, Josh."

"We're all equals, let's say," he said, swatting at my hand holding my wallet. "But you and Jake have selflessly volunteered your time to help me, and I really appreciate it."

With our vodka shots and vodka tonics to match, Josh raised his shot glass and motioned for me to do the same, which I did.

"You do the first toast," he said, grinning at me.

I thought for a moment. "Okay–cheers to completing one whole scene," I proposed, inching my glass toward his. "Caught on film and everything."

"Cheers indeed," he affirmed and clinked his glass against mine.

The vodka tasted almost as bitter as I felt. I let it linger on my tongue and in my throat for a moment before washing it down with the vodka tonic, the lime cutting through the alcohol. I already felt better, truly better, with the single shot down. I was there to be with Josh and have a good time and that was it.

We were only on our third round, both of us nursing a fresh pair of vodka tonics and playing cards at the bar, when Josh poked my arm and I looked up to see Jake walk in.

I was so mystified by his appearance–black on black outfit minus the silky navy, almost entirely unbuttoned shirt underneath his jacket, hair a little greasy, dark circles under his eyes, lips a little pouty–that it took me a minute to notice the girl next to him.

I hated that her innocent, bystander presence made the vodka churn in my guts insidiously, almost painfully. I hated that I cared enough about Jake to let that happen.