Give Me a Chance (BYC #2)

29. Natalie

29

NATALIE

“ W e had an amazing year. We have the largest number of kids in our care to date, we expanded the reach of our programs and grew the number of volunteers.” I try to focus on my task tonight—boasting about the BYC so everyone here tonight gives us money. “We hope to have enough funds to continue the same way next year.”

“I’m sure you will, dear. We’ll do our best to help you.” The Taylors were with us from the start. The grumpy looking husband is a sweetheart to his wife, and if she decides they’ll give us an obscene amount of money, he’ll go for it.

“Thank you. You’re like our fairy godmother.” I take her hand and she chuckles.

“Oh, dear. You’re too much.” She swats my hand away but loves every moment of me sucking up to her. I know this dance well. They leave the bar area, giving me clear view of the one person I’m trying to avoid.

He looks way too good in his tux. It fits him as if it was tailored to him, his black bow tie pronouncing his jaw, his hair perfectly styled. I’m not the only one to notice.

No, the whole night he’s been accosted by numerous women. Wealthy cougars are eating him up, using every spare second to lay a touch on his arm. But what really makes my blood boil are the younger ones. Barbie-like princesses using daddy’s money to attend these kinds of events in hopes of finding their Prince Charming. By the way they never drop him out of their sights, I’d say they found him.

And he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks,” I murmur to the server, grabbing another glass of champagne. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had, turning Matt’s schmoozing into a twisted drinking game. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. This stab to my belly every time he gives his attention to another woman. The stab I try to soothe with alcohol.

Every time he gives them his panty melting smirk—I drink, every casual touch they lay on him—I drink, every time they look infatuated while staring into his deep emerald eyes—I drink. When he pockets a number one of them gave him, I sway on my heels, collecting myself with another drink.

I talk to a few guests, explaining our theme, Matt’s theme, which only grates on my nerves more.

“This year we decided to go a more sustainable way,” I explain.

“And it turned out great! Sustainability is definitely trendy right now,” one of our biggest donors responds. I smile politely, thinking about Matt and the fact that sustainable isn’t a trend but a lifestyle for him.

Once again, my attention is back on him. On the way he works the room like a pro, with ease and confidence, while I drink myself stupid.

“You good?” Noah asks as I sit down next to him. Matt barely ate before getting back to socializing.

“Yup,” I respond while he eyes me curiously, pouring me a glass of water I eagerly drink. But when Matt puts his hand on the small of one girl’s back, water doesn’t cut it.

Grabbing another glass from the server is the last thing I remember.

As soon as I wake up, the scent of alcohol invades my nose. Bile rises in my throat when I realize the smell is coming from me. My heart beats faster as I open my eyes, noticing the unknown bed I’m lying in.

“No! No, no, n-no!” I whisper yell, breaths becoming shallower and faster.

Quickly, I get up from the bed, but the rest of the bedroom is unfamiliar as well.

“No, not again.” Looking down, I notice I’m dressed in an oversized male T shirt, and this time, I’m unable to keep the contents of my stomach down.

I rush to get to the bathroom, barely making it before puking my guts out. It does nothing to settle my panic.

A soft knock sounds on the door, and I struggle to catch a breath.

“Natalie?” A voice calls to me, but it’s far away. My vision blurs as a big figure approaches me.

“No! No, please no.” I sob, tears falling down my face.

“Natalie, it’s me.” A soft touch on my shoulder. “Look at me.” Strong hands picking me up. “You’re OK. Hey, you’re OK.” We lower to the bed.

“What did you do? I can’t remember. I can’t remember!” I hyperventilate.

“I just put you to bed in my guest room. It’s OK. You’re OK.” My head falls into the crease of my captor’s neck, and on a short inhale my nostrils fill with a scent that grounds me.

“Take deep breaths for me,” the voice continues, and I try to listen, still unable to look at him.

His scent is the only thing keeping me tethered; I slowly match my breaths to his. A hand draws circles on my back, and it feels good. It doesn’t feel unwelcome. Not like the last time.

After what feels like eternity, I’m finally able to get enough oxygen into my lungs to open my eyes. Matt’s eyes stare at me wide open, his heart beating just as fast as mine. He continues breathing deep with me, soothing me with his touch until I believe the worst part is over.

“What happened?” I croak out.

“You had a panic attack,” he whispers, and I nod. “Is this the first time it happened?”

I shake my head before clearing my throat. “I haven’t had one in years.” Not a full blown one, at least. “But what happened? Why am I here?” A hint of panic still laces my voice. The attack is gone, but the fear is still very much alive.

He grabs a glass of water from the nightstand, which he probably left last night next to a couple of Advil’s. I take a big sip while he watches me intently.

“You had a bit too much to drink last night. I was driving Anne and you home, but by the time we arrived at your place, we couldn’t find your keys. So, I brought you here to sleep it off.” He takes my hand in his, his eyes piercing through mine. “Nothing else happened, Natalie. I helped you out of your dress,” another sob escapes me, “and into this shirt so you’d be more comfortable and put you to bed here in the guest room. As far as I know, you still have your underwear on. Nothing happened, you have to believe me.”

I look deep into his glossy eyes, trying to hold back his own tears and see nothing but honesty. I believe him. I believed the second I realized it was him. But the whole thing triggered me into spiral.

“Yeah, there’s no way you could have put on this contraption of a bra back on me.” I sniffle, deflecting, but my joke falls on deaf ears.

“What happened, Natalie?” he whispers.

I sigh, knowing there’s no way out of this. He saw too much. Might as well know the whole story.

“You know I never drink a lot. Maybe only a drink or two, but never more.” He nods. “There’s a reason for that.” My gaze drops to my hands, unable to look at him anymore. His touch is feather light, but never leaving my back.

“In college, I had this boyfriend. We were together for about six months, and I was in love.” I shoot him a shy smile while my eyes fill up with tears. “He had this vibe around him, everyone flocked to him. Guys wanted to be him; girls wanted to be with him. I was the lucky one he chose.” I sniffle, and he hands me a tissue. “We were the life of the party everywhere we went. And one night, at a frat party, I had a lot to drink. It wasn’t unusual for me to get drunk, that was our M.O., but this time I got wasted. So much so I blacked out.”

My voice breaks, so I take a second to compose myself. He doesn’t say anything.

“When I woke up, I was relieved to see him on the bed next to me. Until I saw him zipping his pants. Then, I noticed I was naked from the waist down and it clicked. I loved him, and he used me. Used my moment of weakness in the worst possible way.”

He’s silent for a second before shaking his head.

“He didn’t use you,” he spits out, venom in his voice. His words pierce my chest.

He will seriously blame me for this? Pure shock stops my tears, and I look up at his eyes. His nostrils flare, and his eyes burn with rage.