Chapter Fifteen
Dani
I was drunk.
Not my usual warm-tingly tipsiness, either. Drunk. I’d only had three tequila shots and a few sips of rum and Coke, but my dinner had pretty much consisted of chips and guacamole, and I hadn’t been pacing my drinks like I usually did on the rare instances I had hard liquor.
I now understood why it was called that, by the way. Because that was how it hit—hard.
Robin and Kelly sat in the booth alongside me, more tequila shots lining the small round table of the karaoke bar. It was Saturday night, a week and a half since the art gallery “not date” with Jase, and if I’d had any doubts about just how much of a “not date” it was, those had been well and truly cleared up this past week.
Jase was avoiding me.
I hadn’t been sure at first. I’d woken up Thursday morning feeling like a Disney princess, ready to fling open my windows and break into song while birds helped me get dressed for the day, still flying high on the incredible donation Jase had landed for me. I hadn’t even been nervous to head into the office to share the news with Talia and finalize the details, worries about hate mail and death threats far from my mind. Geffery had escorted me to and from my car, but aside from his company, it had felt no different from the hundreds of other times I’d gone into work.
It had taken two days to get the silent auction finalized and squared away, and by Monday, I’d been eager to get back to Ardena. I could pretend it was just because I liked the atmosphere, which I did, but that wasn’t what had put the flutters of excitement in my stomach. It had been the thought of seeing Jase.
For a “not date,” that night had been more fun than any actual date I’d ever been on. And it wasn’t just the paintings. It was how easy it was to talk to Jase. How effortlessly he made me laugh. How hours fell away with him without me noticing, and how never once throughout the night had I felt the need to hide.
Maybe I should have. Maybe I’d shown too much. Maybe I’d made him uncomfortable by kissing him on the cheek.
I didn’t know.
What I did know was he hadn’t been there when I’d shown up on Monday. And when he still hadn’t come in by the afternoon, I’d asked Aubrey if he was sick. She hadn’t heard anything from him.
I’d thought of texting him but then worried that’d be weird. After all, it hadn’t been a date. He didn’t owe me a phone call.
But when he’d come in Tuesday, perfectly healthy in all his tall, rugged glory, I’d gotten only a cursory “Hey” before he disappeared into the kitchen. Whereas before the gallery, he’d make hourly trips up to Jillian’s office to get something, or sometimes just to check in, this past week, he’d only come up a grand total of two times, not even looking at me when he did.
That was what hurt the most, the not looking. Like he’d seen enough of me and wasn’t interested in seeing more. Like he’d rather I was invisible.
Only, I didn’t want to be invisible anymore.
Hence, karaoke.
I wore a pink slip dress that had hung untouched in my closet for years because I’d been too intimidated to wear it before tonight, and a pair of lace-up stiletto boots that spent more time on my shoe rack than on my feet for the very same reason. Robin and Kelly had convinced me I looked sexy, and you know what? I felt sexy. Free. For once in my overly analytical existence. And maybe it was the tequila, but I liked that feeling.
Someone on stage started a rendition of “Since U Been Gone” by Kelly Clarkson, and when the chorus hit, we all sang along at the top of our lungs before bursting into laughter.
“ Why have we never done this before?” Kelly shouted, her blond hair crimped and pulled back in a messy half bun.
“Right?” Robin replied. Her red lipstick was the same bright color as her hair, both still managing to pop under the dim lights.
The three of us had already performed on stage once—“Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child—something I never would have done a year ago for fear of sounding bad, of not being perfect. Which was exactly why I’d never done this before.
It was suddenly, blazingly clear. I’d spent my entire life trying to be perfect, convinced I had to be in order to receive the affection I craved.
Want Dad to show up for my dance recital? Better nail that routine. Want my report card hung on the refrigerator? Only if I got all A’s. Want Mom to show any interest in my career? Time to climb that corporate ladder.
It was a mask I’d constructed early on in an attempt to make order of the chaos my parents had dealt; one I’d only fastened on tighter with most of the guys I’d dated. No wonder I’d always been bored. They’d probably been doing the same thing as me, wearing masks of their own, presenting the versions of themselves they thought I wanted to see, leaving us with nothing but the performance of perfection between us.
Maybe that was why none of them had ever lived up to Alec.
Alec, who was so comfortable in his own skin. Who walked into any room and took ownership of it. Who knew exactly who he was and exactly what he wanted for himself. Alec, who, if I was honest with myself—and maybe the tequila was responsible for this, too, because I was all about the honesty tonight—had probably been a big part of the reason I’d felt the need for a mask at all. Or at least the need to keep wearing one. Because how could someone that perfect ever want to be with someone as ordinary as me?
Another singer got on stage, this one choosing a slower song I didn’t know, and Kelly drew our attention back to her.
“All right, ladies,” she said as if calling an official meeting to order. “Who are we serenading tonight? I call dibs on Mr. Man Bun in the back corner.”
She pointed across the room at a guy with muscles usually only seen on NFL linebackers, his dark blond hair pulled back into a messy bun that matched his gruff beard. He was all hers. I preferred lean muscle. Like the kind an infuriating chef I knew had.
Robin held her palms out in front of her. “No serenading for me. I want to see how things play out with Neela.”
My lips rose. “You two going on another date?” They’d been on one so far since the night we’d stayed late for drinks at Ardena, and from the bubbly smile on Robin’s face, it had gone well.
“Brunch tomorrow. Which means I need to cool it on the tequila shots. I’d like my hangover to be curable with waffles and hash browns and not the kind that requires half the day with my head in the toilet.”
“We’ll allow it,” Kelly decreed before turning to me. “That leaves you, Dani. Who’s it gonna be? Or are you holding out for a certain ex-boyfriend’s super-hot brother?” She crawled her fingers across the table. “Robin told me you two were making eyes at each other the other week.”
Robin and I shared a look. I’d filled her in on the whole Jase-avoiding-me situation, but I didn’t feel like rehashing it now. Tonight wasn’t about him. He’d made it clear where we stood, which was apparently as far from each other as physically possible, and that was fine by me. I didn’t need him to see me. I’d make sure someone else did instead.
“No brothers,” I said. I tossed back another tequila shot, letting the burn dissolve Jase from my thoughts. “Let’s go serenade it up.” I headed for the stage.
“Here, let me.”
Robin took the keys from my hand and opened the door to my building. I wasn’t fall-over wasted, but I’d hit that sleepy stage of drunkenness where even the wooden doorframe outside my apartment looked like a nice comfy place to lean my head and rest my eyes for a minute. She held the door open and ushered me up the stairs to my apartment, opening that door too and dropping the keys on the end table before flicking on the light.
I stepped into my small space and sighed, the familiar coziness like a warm embrace.
“You good?” Robin asked as I tossed my clutch onto the couch. “Want help getting your shoes off or anything?”
I smiled a lazy smile and shook my head, ambling back over to wrap her in a tight hug. With my heels on, I towered over her by a good three inches. Her hair smelled amazing . Like cotton candy and bubble gum.
“Thanks for getting me home,” I mumbled with a sigh. “You can black out on my couch any time.”
She chuckled before pulling away. “Noted. Drink a glass of water before you fall asleep, yeah?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I still had to take off my makeup and brush my teeth anyway. I didn’t care how drunk I was—even drunk me knew waking up with clumpy mascara and sour alcohol breath only made the morning after worse.
“And no drunk dialing Hot Chef McFart Face,” she added, leveling her finger at me.
I huffed. Like I would ever call him for anything again. I was done with him. Not that there was anything to be done with in the first place.
The door clicked shut behind Robin, and I flipped the lock before shuffling into the kitchen. Grabbing a cup, I turned on the tap and watched the water line rise in the glass.
What would I even say to Jase anyway?
Nothing. Except that he was being a total dickwad who deserved for his showers to run cold every morning.
I chugged down the water in one go and plunked the glass into the sink, then headed for the bathroom.
Or maybe I’d demand to know why he was avoiding me in the first place. I deserved to know that much, didn’t I? Grown adults didn’t get to just stop talking to people they had a problem with. We weren’t in second grade. He couldn’t pretend I didn’t exist.
The thought stewed as I quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth. It solidified in my mind as I sank onto my bed to take off my boots. The softness of my comforter was almost enough to make me screw getting up for pajamas and just strip out of my dress and crawl under the covers naked, but my studio was practically all windows. Flashing my neighbors wasn’t really the approach I was going for when it came to meeting new people.
I managed to change into a baggy T-shirt and slid under my cool sheets, a gentle breeze grazing my cheek through the open window above my bed.
Why shouldn’t I say all that to Jase? Why should I have to sit with this jumbled mess of rocks in my stomach when this was all his fault in the first place? He’d invited me to the gallery. He’d walked me home. He had no right to treat me this way, and he should have to hear it…or at least read it.
Robin had said no to drunk dialing, which, of course. But a text was fine, right? I mean, a text was different. He wouldn’t be able to tell I was drunk from a text. Not if I read it over extra carefully before I sent it. He’d get the truth, I’d get the last say, and my dignity would remain intact. It was the perfect plan.
My phone was in my hand with the screen unlocked before I had time to second-guess that logic. I winced at the brightness as I pulled up my messages and opened my conversation with him.
The last text exchange between us had been when he sent me the address of the art gallery. I’d responded with a smiley-face emoji. Somehow, that made everything worse.
My fingers itched to start typing, to send him the message that would take whatever this thing was battering around inside me and shove it into him instead. Make him deal with it.
Embarrassment.
Shame.
Rejection.
Disappointment.
But when I tried to think of the words, my brain could only come up with three.
Me: I miss you.
I stared at them typed out, knowing I couldn’t send them but not wanting to send anything else. Not really. All that anger and hurt were only covering up this one truth, and I couldn’t bear to admit it, no matter how drunk I was.
I’d deleted half the message when a loud bang erupted outside over the low city rumbles. My body froze, my thumb hovering over my phone screen as my tequila-muddled brain stumbled to identify the sound. It boomed again, louder this time, rising up from below my window, and it was only when the shouts started alongside it that I realized what it was.
“Let me in!” yelled a deep voice I didn’t recognize followed by three more bangs. Someone was slamming against the door to my building.
My pulse hammered at the base of my throat as I stared into the darkness of my apartment.
The glare from the streetlamps provided just enough light to make out the edges of my furniture, only instead of comforting shapes, they were looming shadows that might lunge at any moment.
Another bang, and this time, I flinched.
Could it be the person who’d left the death threat on my car? Had they followed me home? It wouldn’t have been hard. Maybe they’d just been watching me, waiting for the right moment or building up the courage to…what?
What happened if they got inside?
I closed my eyes against the thought and tried to stay calm, but hard angry slashes of black ink flashed across my lids, recounting every word of the note in vivid detail. All the ways they hoped I would die. All the things they’d do to me first.
Murdering whore.
Fucking cunt.
Get ready to get r ? —
“Come on!” The slamming was a constant now, what must have been their fist connecting with the wooden door and rattling the latch.
No air reached my lungs.
How strong was that door? How long until they got fed up and kicked it down?
With silent gasps, I tried to unlock the darkened screen of my phone. I shook so badly it took three attempts for it to accept my fingerprint.
Jase’s text conversation glowed back at me, and I didn’t pause to think before tapping the phone icon in the top corner.
“Open the fucking door!”
I squeezed my eyes shut and brought the phone to my ear. A tear escaped, trailing over my cheek and onto my pillowcase. “Please,” I whispered at the first ring. “Please.”
The slamming switched to jangling, like whoever was down there had grabbed the door handle and was trying to rip it off.
I dragged air through my nose as the line rang twice, trying to control my breathing and gather my thoughts.
What if they got in? Did I have anything in my apartment I could use as a weapon? The standing lamp by the couch, maybe? I had knives in the kitchen.
Oh God .
Would I have to stab someone? Could I stab someone?
Bile burned the back of my throat.
The line rang again, my whole body shaking as my breaths grew shallow. Each pound against the door rattled through my bones, echoing the pounding of my heart against my ribs. I clutched the phone to my ear, clinging to the silence between rings, and willed the line to connect.