"You threw up on my shoes. And your own," Jack said. "That's bad luck. Because if you had only thrown up on your shoes I would let you borrow mine. But I don't think there's any chance you can fit into Aaron's shoes."

They all looked down at Aaron's size 14 and a half EEEE sneakers. They were immaculately white. No puke. No beer.

"She's going to be here in like what? Five minutes?" Aaron asked.

Alan tried to answer but his words came out blurred like drunk vision.

Jack looked at his phone. "Yeah about five minutes. Maybe sooner. She doesn't seem to be the one who texts and drives. I haven't been getting updates."

"You're texting her more than buddy boy here." Aaron laughed while punching Alan's shoulder.

He tried to say something. But had to stop before he felt like puking again. He was screwed. She would see him in a low state. It was too soon for this. And the sad thing was that he never got drunk like this anymore. It was these two guys who had enabled this. Bastards.

---

When she stepped outside she was reminded of summer. For just a moment. Then the cold finally hit. She saw Aaron's SUV. The lamps cast the parking lot an orange.

This was exciting. She hadn't been out in a long time. Probably not since early October. Ashley had taken her out for her birthday. Imogen wished that she was here now. Wondered what she was up to now. Probably at a big city bar.

Images flashed in her head. City lights. Interesting people. Tall buildings. And then she was back here. In 

Westcity

. She was surprised not to be jealous that she wasn't out there. It was cool to be here now.

She felt the strap of her purse on her hand. Made her way across the parking lot towards the bar. Rust Bar. Where the boys were.