It's a long half hour. It's time enough for Colt to feel like he's being stupid, like he should text and call it off, like he's inviting trouble into his life. On the other hand, there's the off chance that maybe things will be okay. He can just imagine that he's some cliché guy from a Southern small town come up to the big city and finding himself in over his head.
He doesn't wanna be that guy.
Since leaving Texas, he's played his life very smart and to the letter. He's worked hard. He's been a good person. He's been thoughtful and careful with every decision he's made. Everything in his world is under his control as much as it can be.
Right now he feels reckless. It's an odd feeling and he isn't sure he's cut out for it.
He hears the rumble of an engine and peeks outside from a window to see a shiny sports car pulled up in front of his house. It's not the kind of car he would have imagined Marc driving. He lets the curtain fall back in place when he sees Marc getting out of the car.
He waits until he hears the knock on the door before going to it, taking a deep breath and opening the door.
Marc stands there, bruises still on his face and looking pleased to be here. The man carries a paper bag in one arm and has a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
"Here. Take this." He gives Colt the paper bag.
A peak inside shows two six packs of beer and a bottle of something. Drinks.
Colt steps aside to let Marc in. "You were serious, huh? About the drinks."
"Yeah. You're gonna drink with me."
Colt watches as Marc sets the duffel down and looks around the small living room, dining room and joined kitchen. When Emmitt rises and pads over to inspect him, Marc offers his hand and lets the dog sniff at him before petting at his ears.
"Well, that clinches it. If Emmitt likes you then I guess you're alright."
"He's a hella big dog. What is he? Great Dane?"
"Yeah. He's an old man dog." His pup loses interest and goes back to lay down. "See? He mostly just lays around."
Marc grins crookedly at Colt. "This is a cool place."
"Thanks." Colt tries to search for something to say. Their normal ease of conversation at bars is lost now that it's just the two of them and Colt is nervous as hell. "I uhm... uh..."
"Hey. I'm glad you invited me over."
Did he invite Marc over or had it been a mutual decision? Had he been pushed into it? Had Marc invited himself over? Colt can't really tell right now and he supposes that it doesn't really matter now that the man is here.
"To be honest, I'm nervous and I have no idea what I'm doing right now."
Marc steps closer to him, that mischievous grin still in place. "Breathe. It's just me."
Colt studies Marc's bruised face up close. "Who hit you?"
"That's not important." Marc shakes his head and reaches out for Colt's hand.
Colt looks down at his hand in Marc's and slowly his fingers curl to hold onto Marc's hand as well. His thumb brushes over the cuts and bruises on Marc's knuckles. "It's important to me."
"Let's have a drink. Yeah?"
The paper bag is sitting on the small table where he'd left it and Colt looks over to it. A drink won't hurt. In fact, it would probably help. He's drank before, usually when alone at home.
Having a drink now does not make him his father, he reminds himself.
"Yeah." Colt says with a nod.
Marc lets go of his hand and goes into the kitchen to find two glasses. He comes back with two small tumblers that Colt usually uses for orange juice and then grabs the bottle from the bag. It's whiskey, Colt can see now. Marc fills two glasses and brings one back to him.
"Let's shoot it." Marc says.
"Aren't you classy coastal folk supposed to toast with this kind of drink?"
Marc smirks. "If you think I'm classy, you got me pegged all wrong. But alright. Let's toast to adding some spice to the vanilla."
"Oh come on now..."
"Hey you wanted a toast." Marc holds his glass up, waiting. "Come on."
Colt lifts his eyes to the ceiling and back down. "To adding some spice to the vanilla."
They clink glasses and the both of them drink all of what's in the glass. It burns its way down Colt's throat and he feels himself making a face. Marc, however, makes no face and is watching him with amusement even as he pours more of the liquor into Colt's glass.
