But . . . I couldn’t not say something.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “She’s pretty wasted.”
“Pretty and wasted. Can’t beat that combo.”
My stomach turned, and my fists clenched.
Kelsey wobbled past me, and I almost reached out and grabbed her. I almost told the douchebag to back the f**k off.
God, I wanted to.
She was drunk. Too drunk. But she was also holding on to the guy’s neck and leaning her face against his chest like she wanted to be there. I didn’t have any right to tell her what to do. She had to make her own f**ked-up decisions, just like I had.
So I let him pull her into one of the shower stalls, her delirious giggle echoing out at me even once I could no longer see her. Squeezing my eyes shut, I dragged a hand across my face, suddenly battling the urge to punch something.
A piece of clothing, her dress most likely, was tossed over and out of the shower. The water turned on a few seconds later, and I heard her squeal rupture into peals of laughter.
I forced myself to leave then, my gait wooden and stiff. I didn’t know what the right thing was to do in this situation. I shouldn’t give a f**k. But I did.
My fascination with figuring her out had began to mesh with my attraction to her, and now I couldn’t tell the difference between the two anymore.
I had to think this through. If I went back in there and interrupted, I was definitely outing myself. It was one thing not to pay attention to a random guy you walk past. If I tore open the shower curtain and beat the shit out the guy she was probably having sex with . . . I had a feeling she’d remember that, no matter how much she’d had to drink.
How would I follow her after that, when she could recognize me from even the slightest glance? And as far as I knew, she might be sober enough to know exactly what she was doing. She could tell me to f**k off, and then I would have burned myself for no reason whatsoever.
No, it was better if I minded my own business. And yet, when I lay down to sleep a few minutes later, I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities. What if that guy had gotten her drunk on purpose? What if he hurt her? That would be my fault.
How would I explain that to her father? How could I live with myself knowing I could have stopped that? I rolled out of bed and stood to go find her, and got halfway across the room before I ground to a halt.
Goddamn it.
So she was wasted. She’d been wasted a lot on this trip so far. And she’d hooked up with random guys regardless of her sobriety level. I was overreacting. Clearly, she knew what she wanted out of this trip, and I just needed to let her do her thing.
I took a deep breath.
I needed to relax. Normally, I would have reached for my sketchbook, but the last four drawings I’d made had been Kelsey, and I had no doubt what number five would be, too, unless I wanted to draw the pimply guy snoring in the bunk next to me.
No, that wasn’t going to do the trick this time.
I stripped off my shirt, and ignoring the fact that I’d just taken a shower, I got down on the floor and started doing push-ups.
There was a sharp twinge of pain in the shoulder that I’d separated in Afghanistan, but it eased into a dull, familiar ache after a few reps.
I needed to tire out my brain, and the fastest way to do that was to tire out my body. So I bent my arms, my breath huffing out across the dusty floor, and then pushed myself upward. I did it again and again. I reminded myself of all the people who’d tried to help me when I’d been off the rails. They’d only pissed me off and pushed me farther away.
I did push-ups until my arms ached, and then I switched to sit-ups.
By the time I crawled back into bed for the night, I wasn’t thinking about Kelsey or alcohol or the past. I was only thinking about sleep.
6
THE NEXT EVENING I followed Kelsey to the train station. As we approached, I immediately raised my guard.
It was just after midnight. Gara de Nord loomed ahead of us, but as we got closer, I couldn’t help but pick out the dilapidated buildings that dotted the street. I was used to seeing a lot of people out and about, considering Kelsey frequented late-night businesses, but these streets showed a different side of city life. A man lay curled up on his side next to a metal trash can. I saw Kelsey pause, and mentally urged her to keep going. He was likely harmless, but these streets were dotted with beggars, and I’d read enough of my guidebook to know they were likely to try and take advantage of Kelsey if she acknowledged them.
After a few seconds, she kept walking, her eyes fixed on the train station up ahead. A few people called out at her as she walked past, but she kept her eyes forward. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad at least that I didn’t have to worry about her behaving recklessly when she was sober.
Inside the station, the atmosphere was much less tense. It was still fairly busy, with a few shops and fast-food restaurants still open for business.
I took a risk standing behind her in line, but I needed to know where she was going, and this was my best shot. She had a Eurail pass, as did I, which covered travel to most places in Europe. But if she was at the ticket counter that meant wherever we were going wasn’t covered.
I was fairly certain she wouldn’t recognize me from the night before. I didn’t think she’d ever really looked at me, but I kept my baseball cap pulled low over my eyes just in case. She stepped up to the ticket counter, her Eurail pass and passport in hand.
I tried to listen for a clue to where she was going, but the attendant’s voice was muffled by the glass, and with her back to me, I couldn’t understand what Kelsey was saying either. I fidgeted, tapping my passport against my palm, trying to decide the best way to handle this. I could always wait and see what platform she went to, and then come back and buy my ticket based on that. But I didn’t know how early she had arrived and didn’t want to risk missing the train. The attendant next to Kelsey finished with her customer and beckoned me forward.