Page 12 of Pretty Broken Wings

Rolling the woman over, I check for injuries, but I can’t fucking see, thanks to her. All I see are blobs of light and dark contrast. I rub my hands along the lighter patch where I assume her face is, and my fingers meet soft skin.

I don’t feel anything wet. I pull in a breath and don’t smell copper.

I let out the air from my lungs as a confusing mix of relief and annoyance flashes through me.

Fucking hell. She thinks I’m stalking her?

My brother did it again. Fucking Axel for the motherfucking win. I can always count on him to crash out and take everyone else with him.

I’m actually gonna kill him.

I feel down the woman’s body, trying to find her legs to hold them over her head. From what I can feel, she has cargo pants on and sneakers. What the hell? Is this a new thing? She’s also light as a feather.

I get her legs up and then look around. I try to wave at the vague blur of people on the other end of the club. At least, I think it’s people. The dim light doesn’t help.

Ironically, I come here for the dim light. I stop by when I want to shut everything else out, feel the music, and watch the fuzzy lights flash across my vision. It’s also the place no one will think to look for me, so when I need to feel like I’ve disappeared, I come here.

And now, instead of feeling better, I have Axel’s current baggage passed out on the floor.

No one is coming over to help, and I dig in my pocket for my cell phone, flip it open, then dial my brother. I listen to thetones and pray I hit the right numbers. Dialing my brother is something I try not to do on a regular basis.

No one picks up the first time. Because, ofcoursenot. Then, on the second dial, the line connects.

“What’s up, prude?”

I grind my teeth. I’m only a few minutes older than him, but Axel thinks that because I don’t fuck every woman who crosses my path, I’m against fun.

“Come get your girl.”

“Huh?” I hear music in the background. Is he… at the bar?

“Come get your fucking girl,” I snarl into the phone. Said girl is starting to stir, making a pitiful little moan.

“Which girl?”

Of course he doesn’t know which one this is because it’s a new one every day. And yet, he’s never slut shamed. Everyone looks at him like the golden standard. They praise him for his charisma and pat him on the back.

Except me. I’m over it. “Well, I can’t tell you what she looks like ‘cause she broke my fucking glasses.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“She… what?”

“You’re blind, not deaf. Now get the fuck over here.”

The woman groans, rolling over, so I stand up. Clearly, she’s fine. Well, if not fine, she’llbefine when she sleeps it off.

Axel laughs. The fuckerlaughs. “Oh my god!”

I hang up. I don’t have time for this. Almost immediately, my phone rings again. I let it go to voicemail. My glasses are special prescriptions. It will take weeks to get new ones in. How the hell am I going to work?

Finally, when Axel calls back the third time, I pick the phone up and growl, “What?”

“Where are you, bro?”

My face heats. I don’t tell him I come here. And now, I have no choice.

“Trick or Treat. Your girl had too much to drink and passed out.”