She jumped as his phone flipped through the air, the graceful motion ending when it struck the fridge and fell to the floor.
Without an apology or even a fluid stream of profanity, he ignored his phone. And her. Instead, he reached into the small freezer and pulled out a bottle. The door didn’t even close before he started drinking. Why dirty a glass when you’ll finish the bottle soon?
She stood by the front door like she was contemplating the answer in a game show. Should she leave? Should she cry? Should she pick a fight?
She didn’t know, so she stood and tried to determine the moment when the sweet boy who waited months to email her to ask her to get coffee turned into this . . . when the cute blue-eyed couple with elfin smiles turned into the ugly reality-tv couple on MTV.
Silence. That’s what she should have chosen, but she confronted him instead, judgement oozing from her words: “Haven’t you had enough?”
If he was being honest, yes, he had had enough a few shots ago. But honesty disappears as the drunken ego makes its appearance. At least for him.