“I didn’t drink any whiskey in college though,” I said and Beverley was laughing.
“Of course not. It was beer-pong and body shots for you then,” she said and I fell silent. I didn’t want to discuss college with her. That was a whole different story that needed to be talked about in a sober state. I was afraid of making any confessions that I wasn’t prepared for. Beverley had started humming a tune, I smiled again. I didn’t know that she was a funny and pleasant drunk.
When we hadn’t spoken for a few moments, I decided to break the silence. As nice as it was to just sit there and listen to her breathe, I didn’t want her to just hang up either.
“I’m sorry, Beverley,” I blurted out and she started laughing.
“Because you made me come?” she asked and I sat up straighter in my couch. Drunk Beverley was much more bold than sober Beverley.
“I’m sorry if you didn’t want to,” I said.
“Who doesn’t want to have an orgasm? Orgasms are great,” she said and I couldn’t help but laugh. I’d never heard her talking this way.
“You’re right, orgasms are great,” I said.
“So why are you apologizing then?” she asked in a quieter voice.
“You were angry after that and stormed out of my house,” I said and sat back in the couch, with the phone wedged between my head and shoulder. I had started to take off my slippers and lie down on.
“Yeah. I got angry. What are you doing now?” she said and I smiled again.
“Lying on my couch. What are you doing?” I said.
“Lying on my bed,” she replied and we were quiet again.
“I’m sorry about the company, Beverley, I really am. I want to help,” I said and immediately realized that it was a wrong thing to say. I was going to spoil the moment.
“Goodnight, Grant. I hope we never have to see each other again,” she snarled and cut the call. The voice I heard in the end was more recognizable, that was the Beverley voice I knew from college and the one she’d used when she fought with me and then left my house earlier.
I remained on the couch, hugging the cushions and cradling the phone against my ear still. This was such a high-school thing to do, but these were also high-school feelings I had for her. I wanted to hold her hand, I wanted to make her laugh. The sex was good. I wanted her body too, but I wanted to be the man who could make Beverley happy.
I figured it was just the alcohol talking. She had been drinking as well. In the morning, I’d feel better. So, I closed my eyes and tried to drift away but the only thoughts I had were of Beverley and how interesting she was.
Chapter 13
Beverley
To say that I woke up with a throbbing headache would have been an understatement. When I looked up at the clock, it was already midday and I had been lying on the couch, cradling the empty bottle of whiskey.
Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed and went in for a shower. I was stupid to assume that I didn’t need to get into work. I knew the rest of the team would be there, and I was immediately guilty for being hungover.
I managed to dress myself, into a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt and while fixing the sunglasses on my face, I left the house.
I walked to work as usual, and found the others huddled on a table when I walked in. I could still feel a dull ache at the back of my head, which was beginning to make me sick.
“Bev! You look like you had a rough night,” John said and I didn’t bother to respond to that.
“What are you guys talking about?” I asked, hitching the sunglasses up on my head.
They exchanged looks, till Susan cleared her throat and fixed her eyes on me.
“We heard about your decision. The lawyers got your email,” she said.
“Oh, that!” I said and shrugged my shoulders. “That was a no-brainer. It had to be done,” I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
They were still exchanging nervous looks, till I placed my hands on my hips and stared them down.
“You don’t look like you’ve taken it well, Bev,” Sasha commented and I rolled my eyes. That was a bad idea, because it made my brain hurt and I winced.