The Probability of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence #4)(5)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

For the last couple of months, my nights have been filled with booze, gambling, partying, and fights, some of which I go looking for and others are thrown at me like when I get caught cheating during a game. I know I should stop, not because it’s unhealthy, especially because I’m a diabetic, but one of these days I’m going to piss off the wrong person or take one too many drinks. But I can’t find it in me to give a shit. Live or die. It’s all the same to me anymore.

Sleep’s become a foreign concept, along with eating and drinking anything that doesn’t come in liquid form and gives me an after burn that numbs my heart, soul, and mind. When I do manage to close my eyes, my past haunts me. It’s becoming impossible to escape, so I try not to sleep as much as I can. I think it’s starting to show, at least that’s what I wonder when I walk out into the living room. Seth’s sitting on the sofa when I walk in, yawning and dreary-eyed from no sleep.

He glances up from the laptop with a disgusted look on his face when he takes in the sight of me. “No offense man, but you look like shit,” he says, closing the computer up as he takes in my sunken eyes and the healing bruise on my cheek, remnants of last weekends fight after I was accused of cheating down at Denny’s. Thankfully, the guys that hang there are a bunch of pussies and I got away with minimal scratches and quite of few swings myself. Unfortunately I can’t go back there anymore to gamble so I’m going to have to find somewhere else to make some cash.

“Shut the f**k up,” I grumble back at Seth, running my hand over my messy brown hair. It’s getting sort of scraggily since I haven’t been in for a haircut in a while. But I haven’t cared enough to go.

Seth flips me off, then rolls his eyes. “You need to get over this shit. Seriously. It’s going to kill you.”

“Get over what?” I play dumb.

He rolls his eyes again. “I’d tell you but I don’t dare say her name because you’ll give me that wounded Bambi look and then rip my head off.”

“I’m not a wounded Bambi,” I snap harshly, but have to swallow the lump forming in my throat. I snatch my jacket off the counter, before going over to the fridge. “Where the hell did the bottle of Jack Daniels go? And the Vodka?” I ask.

Seth puts his laptop aside, stands up from the sofa, and walks over to the counter area. “You finished it off last night before you went out to wherever it is you go.” He pauses like he’s waiting for me to tell him, but I don’t because I can barely remember myself what I did five minutes ago, let alone five hours ago.

I slam the fridge door and open the cupboard next to it where Greyson, Seth’s boyfriend, and my friend and roommate, keeps his stash of Cherry Vodka. “You think he’ll mind if I drink some of this?” I ask Seth, reaching for the bottle which is only about a quarter of the way full.

Seth shrugs as he leans against the counter. “I don’t think he’ll mind that some is gone since he barely drinks.” He wavers. “But I think he’ll mind that you’re drinking.”

I grab the bottle, wanting—needing—to get some in my system. I’m starting to shake just thinking about it—starting to think way too f**king much. “I always drink.”

“Yeah, but…” he trails off, massaging the back of his neck tensely.

I scowl at him. “But what? Just finish whatever it is you’re going to say.”

He sighs, letting his arm drop to his side. “Look, I get the whole drinking thing. I do it myself a hell of a lot, but Greyson and I have been talking and it seems like…” He shifts his weight, appearing uncomfortable. “You’ve been doing it more lately, particularly in the last month or so.”

“You mean since Violet left.” I ignore the knife slashing at my chest and it’s easier with the vodka in my hand.

He reluctantly nods. “Yeah, pretty much.” He blows out a breath, tugging his fingers through his blond hair. “Look I don’t know what happened between you and Vio…” He trails off when he catches sight of my face. “Her. But it’s obvious that you’re having a hard time dealing with it and you might… You might want to think about taking it easy on the shots and whatever the hell it is that you do all night.” He gives a pressing glance at my unwashed jeans and my wrinkled plaid shirt, then at my face. “It’s starting to show. Seriously, you looking like the walking dead all the time. I don’t even know how the hell you manage to go to school. And what about football practice? Doesn’t the season start in a couple of weeks? Shouldn’t you be getting in shape or whatever the hell you athletic types do to get ready for game season?”

He’s telling me things I already know and that I don’t care about, so I disregard him and start to unscrew the cap off the vodka. “I’m fine. I don’t do anything I can’t handle. And I work out all the time.” Lie. I’ve been slacking, something my best friend Kayden noted the other day when I didn’t show up for workouts. But not enough that I’ve lost a lot of muscle tone or anything and I honestly have a hard time finding the will to go, which is strange for me. My normal need for structure and order all f**ked up, the only thing on track at the moment is school.

Seth shakes his head. “That’s the biggest bunch of shit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. You’re not fine—nothing is fine with you anymore. In fact, I think you’re about two seconds away from falling apart.”

I tip my head back to take a swig, the sweet burning liquid instantly coating my mouth and I feel twenty times better. I take a long gulp, ignoring the bland cherry flavor, then lower the bottle from my mouth. “Since when did you become so concerned about my life?” I wipe my lips with the back of my hand.

He shakes his head, disappointed by something. “Since you obviously stopped caring about yourself.”

I drop the bottle of Vodka into my bag, swing the handle over my shoulder, and brush by him, heading for the front door. “I care about my life.” Lie. “Otherwise I wouldn’t get up every day and go to class.” Another lie. The only reason I do is a) because I have a weird issue with needing structure and school is the only thing that gives it to me anymore and b) It’s the only place I get to see Violet—seeing her consistently for the last week has been worth the pain in the ass of getting up to go. And even though it hurts like a motherfucker every time I see her, I must enjoy self-inflicting pain because I still want to see her.