Ashley’s POV

Spinaker’s. I was back. Bo was there again. I wasn’t even hoping for the hot blonde or the sizzling redhead to notice me. I just wanted a drink. A strong drink. A shot. That’s what I wanted—a shot of tequila. To comfort my thoughts and burn my veins. I needed a shot of tequila.  I left the bar.  I could find tequila at home.

I slammed the door to my house. I knew nobody would care. Madison was meeting her new coworker, and probably being a royal bitch. The thought made me smile—that’s how vindictive I felt at the moment. I kind of wanted to pummel Madison for making me go see Chelsea at lunch. I didn’t need that. I didn’t miss Chelsea. We grew apart. That’s happens for a reason. People grow apart so that they can grow up. I didn’t need Madison jumping in and making me make friends again. I didn’t need Madison showing up out of nowhere and screwing with my perfect life. I slammed cabinets and drawers until I found the tiny little glass I’d gotten from Cozumel two years earlier. A cute little worm on the side told me to drink more tequila, and I obliged.

I poured shot after shot. Burning inside. Letting myself calm down. Feelings bubbling beneath the surface needed to be squashed before they erupted. I need to rid myself of all of the feelings. Chicago. Nobody likes Chicago. I don’t like Chicago. I find Chicago repulsive. Stupid Chicago. It’s the second city. It got the silver medal in cities. What’s the first city? It’s weird that I don’t know that. I wonder if anybody really knows that. Everyone knows that Chicago is the second city, but does anyone know what the first city is? I shook the thoughts from my head and poured another shot.

As the alcohol burned my throat, my anger grew by the second. Three years. They were roommates for three years. No reason exists in the universe for me to be upset about hearing such a fact, but something made my blood boil. Something inside of me was screaming. She was too close. She was so close. Chelsea was in Chicago. I had lunch with her. She lived with Ashley for three years. They still talk all the time. She’s too close. I can feel her all around me. I left this feeling years ago. I fled this feeling. The feeling of a presence that can’t be touched or appreciated. It’s back. The feeling is back, and she’s drowning me. I seethed with anger as I threw back another shot.