Page 36 of When There Was You
I light a cigarette and adjust to the shock of being somewhere other than our condo in comfy sweats. The blaring music and staccato lights threaten to give me a headache. Everything screams…and not in a welcome, I’ve really-missed-this way. I’d pay money to be back in my bed immersed inLonesome Dove. I’m halfway through and it’s the best book I’ve ever read. Reading and school are my escapes. My safetynets. If my mind is allowed to wander, it inevitably lands on Mick and all we’ve lost.
He hasn’t called. Written. Crawled back, realizing he can’t live without me. He’s made zero moves to reverse his decision. And I’ve honored it, as excruciatingly hard as it’s been. I haven’t phoned him once, dropped by the marina, or shown up at his house. I’ve hardly left the sanctity of the condo unless it’s for school or work.
I’m a hostage trapped in a fucked-up type of limbo. Even though my captor gave me up, there’s a ransom to pay…and it’s steep. My crushed heart barely beats, limping along at minimum capacity to keep me alive.
I prefer to stay busy, my brain occupied and my body tired. Avoidance is the name of the game. Mick and Remy still find me in my dreams, but the rest of the time, I actively fight their intrusions while conscious.
Jas waves a hand in front of my face. “You with us?”
I blink. “Yup. Sorry.”
Kit scans the nearby tables. “Fine-ass men at nine o’clock.”
Jas and I look. Five guys stand around a table. It’s hard to see their faces, but a few might be attractive. As if I care.
The waitress arrives with our drinks, and Jas buys the round. We clink our shot glasses together before slamming them back. The schnapps flames a hot trail down my throat, and I follow up with a long pull of my sea breeze.
Kit’s actively flirting with the table of guys now, further jangling my nerves. I dread interacting with anyone other than my roommates.
I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.
When Kit saunters over to their table, paralysis grips my chest.I’m not ready.I stare into my cocktail, pink from the cranberry juice with a bright segment of lime notched onto the lip of the glass.
“Hey.” Jas seeks my gaze. “Just let loose a little. Drink. Dance. Okay? You’ve got to start somewhere.”
The prickling behind my eyelids reminds me how broken I am. Sucking in a breath, I realize she’s right. Mick’s not coming back. There is no one to save me. There’s just me in this equation now, maybe forever. I need to take some baby steps, so I nod at her in silent agreement.
I inhale the rest of my cocktail and get going on another. The tension in my muscles and posture begins to relax.
As I down another shot, Kit returns with the stable of guys trailing her, and we make room at our table. I engage, laugh a little, lower my guard. The stocky blonde—Rick…Ray?—asks me to dance, and I say yes. My body moves of its own volition. It’s always responded naturally to music, and soon I’m blissfully unaware of anything aside from my hips and arms swaying, matching the energy on the floor.
Rick-Ray grins, assessing me top to bottom. A pang of sadness washes over me, but it’s dulled by alcohol. His appraisal reminds me I’m desirable, and I flash him a smile.
We stay out for a few songs, then return to the table. I long to fling off the hand he rests on my lower back, the weight of it unfamiliar and unwelcome as he ushers me to my seat. But I don’t.
A couple of hours later, I’m trashed—and consumed with calling Mick, or better yet, showing up on his doorstep. When I exit the bathroom, Rick-Ray is leaning against the adjacent wall.
“Just making sure you’re alright,” he slurs.
“Mm-hmm…fine.”I’m so not fine.
He braces a hand on the wall, maybe to hold himself upright. “What do you say we get outta here, beautiful?”
I balk at the inference and shake my head.
His face registers surprise. “C’mon. You know you like me.”
“You seem nice, but I’m not interested,” I say, moving past him with a forced smile.
He grabs my hand. “Your number then. Gimme that.”
I yank out of his grasp. “I repeat:not happening.”
“So you’re one of those?”
My head jerks, meeting blue eyes that have turned cruel. “One what?”
“Cock tease.”
