Chapter 23
Ryan
Christine abandons me on the dancefloor. She turns her back on me and leaves, offended by something I’ve said.
What have I done wrong? I gave her what she wanted – or rather, I offered her exactly what she was looking for, because I knew what it was. What else could anyone want with someone like me?
What the fuck did she mean, ‘I wasn’t here’? I was holding her. I thought my intentions were clear to the whole room. What else did she expect?
She’s impossible, bad-tempered, out of her mind. She thinks she knows everything about everyone.
Fuck her.
She can’t just turn her back and leave me on the dancefloor looking like a dick without accepting the consequences.
I follow behind her, shoving through crowds of people. I get to the toilet door and lean my back against the wall next to it, waiting for her to come out. But patience isn’t my strong point, and neither are good manners, so I open the door and stride into the women’s toilets.
Two girls touching up their makeup in the mirror look at me in surprise, as I ask them not very nicely to kindly piss off.
I glance under the cubicle doors and, when I find her feet, I knock loudly.
“Occupied!” she shouts from the other side.
“It’s me.”
“What the hell…?”
“Come out.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Come out or I’m coming in.”
She opens the door, furious.
“What do you think you’re doing? This is the women’s toilet!”
“You’re the one who shouldn’t have even fucking thought about walking away from me like that.”
“Oh my God! Are you insane?”
“I’m not someone who likes to be messed around.”
“Are you serious, Ryan?”
“Never been more serious in my life.” I step closer to her, threateningly, as she backs against the door. It’s only once I feel her sigh onto my face that I realise her eyes are red and her makeup is smudged.
I take a few steps back, letting her take the breath she was holding in. I know, because I was holding mine too.
She heads towards the sink and leans her hands against the counter. I go over to her and stop behind her – and when she lifts her gaze, what I see in the mirror kicks my pride.
“I went too far,” I say.
“No, you think?” she says, her voice dripping in sarcasm.
“I lost control,” I say, coming closer to her and placing my hands on the counter next to hers. The electricity when our fingers touch clouds my senses in an instant.
“You make me lose control,” I whisper into her ear, watching her skin shiver.
I look at her shoulders, her arms, her hands.
I watch her breathing, her anxiety. I feel it wrapping around me, because it’s the same anxiety that weighs down on me.
When I look back up to catch her eye with mine, she shakes her head and breaks contact.
It feels like she’s broken my spine, cutting off my airways.
I feel empty, a shell. As if I could be trampled by one clumsy step.
“I haven’t done anything,” she says calmly, but her voice betrays her.
“You do, Christine. You…” I say, drunk from her scent, manipulating my thoughts just like last night.
I brush against her ear with my lips, closing my eyes to feel the trembling in my bones.
The longing to slip my hands under her dress devours me, the desire to feel her all-consuming.
The desperate need to touch her makes me slowly glide my hands up and down her sides; they’re moving of their own accord, as if someone else were controlling them.
I reach her waist and increase the pressure of my touch.
I need to feel everything, just once – the longing bursts through my fingers, controlling my actions.
I can’t avoid it.
I don’t want to.
“Ryan…” she wriggles away and turns. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing what I want.”
My longing starts to possess my tongue, too.
“And what do you want?”
“You.”
She narrows her eyes, and the light in them vanishes, just like this moment of madness.
“Are you crazy? Do you really think I’d just fuck you in the toilet of a bar”
She gets angry, her face flaming up, her voice rising. Rejection plasters across her face, her body.
“Is that not what you want?” I raise my voice too, overcome by anger.
And it happens again.
The second time she’s slapped me. This time it’s harder.
And I deserve it even more than last time.
“Don’t you dare lay your hands on me,” I say, intimidating, even though she had every right.
She drops her hands to her sides and looks at me, furiously.
“It’s actually you who put your hands on me.
And if you don’t let me leave right now, I’m going to scream.
I’m not desperate enough to fall to your feet – not here, or anywhere else.
You’re not attractive enough to get away with playing the Alpha male, who takes without asking.
You might think you’re a good guy deep down, but there’s nothing good in you.
Being a sex God doesn’t give you the right to treat people like shit. I won’t let you treat me like shit.”
She turns on her heels and goes to open the door.
“You shouldn’t pretend to be a tough guy when you’re not even a man, Ryan. You’re nothing.”