“Excuse me?” She stops rambling and looks at me wide-eyed.
“My name… it’s Ashton.” She studies me thoroughly as I drag my palms down my face and rest my head in my hands.
“Would you like a coffee?” I slowly nod, she finally says something I’m grateful of. “Black, no sugar,” I tell her and rest my head on the back of the couch as she leaves the room.
I must have drunk more than I thought. My head is pounding.
~*~
A few moments later Acacia comes into the room with two mugs in her hands. “Here you go.” She says as I take the mug from her and mumble a “thank you.”
“You’re not rude when you’re hungover then, that’s good,” she says sarcastically.
“Funny.” I roll my eyes at her. Even that move makes the throbbing worse.
We sit in an awkward silence for a while as we both sip our coffee until finally, Acacia can’t take it anymore. “How’s your head now?”
“No better.”
“That’ll be the bottle of whiskey you drank.” She looks away from me down into her coffee.
“It was half of it,” I smirk.
“But it was the strongest one on the shelf,” she taunts, shaking her head.
“How long have you worked at Smokey’s?” I ask, and I don’t even know why.
“A couple of years now. The owner is hardly ever there, he had me working a twelve-hour shift yesterday and never even showed his face all day, the dick! I ran the bar all day and night…”
“Do you ever stop talking?” Jesus, I asked her only one question.
“Sometimes this happens… especially when I’m nervous, sorry.” I watch her look down into her coffee again. I don’t take her as the timid kind of girl, which makes me feel like a bit of an asshole.
Taking a long sip from my mug, I ask, “Why are you nervous?”
“What?”
“You said you talk a lot when you’re nervous.”
“Ah, that… well, honest answer?” she smiles. I nod, waiting for her answer.
“You make me nervous.”
I chuckle, “Me?”
“Of course, you. You’re like the strangest person I’ve met. One moment you’re yelling, the next you’re worried about my wellbeing. One moment you’re rude and the next we’re having a proper talk. Is there any chance of you having multiple personality disorder?”
“Let’s get this straight. You hit my car, you were the distracted one. You were the one who can’t drive a car. I had every right to be rude, but also yes, I was worried about you being hurt. You should be the sorry one.”
“This is exactly what I’m talking about! You keep saying you don’t care about the car, but you remind me of that every chance you get… and just because I got a little distracted does not mean I can’t drive!”
“I’m just trying to teach you what your family didn’t.”
“STOP! This is your second attempt at talking about my parents. Okay, you can be angry at me and thank you for worrying about my wellbeing even if you had a sick way of showing it. But never talk about my parents.”
“I…”
“They are dead, okay? They died in a car accident so I know how much my distraction could have cost me. But please just shut up, say a thank you and leave!”