Chapter 10
TEN
Allison
Before
“You look like Hell,” Catie says as I stare blankly at my sandwich sitting on the beige table in front of me.
I feel like hell. After the party, I spent the rest of the weekend icing my body and being ignored by my husband.
My father-in-law took me across the water in his boat, and I drove myself home.
I haven’t seen or talked to my husband since.
It’s been days. The silence between us grows deeper with each passing hour, each passing day.
Normally, I’d cave. I’d call or text and apologize, beg him to come home. But I’m sick of caving.
Maybe I’m realizing that I deserve something better.
I sigh into my sandwich. “I feel like Hell.”
I haven’t seen or heard from Gabriel since either.
I know he’s at work today because his name isn’t on the sub list. I thought about wandering to his classroom during my planning period, but I know he teaches during that time and didn’t want to interrupt.
And then I realized that I knew his class schedule and my stomach twisted into knots.
There’s absolutely no good reason for me to know his schedule.
No explanation I could rationalize to myself why I want to walk by his room and stare in at him constantly throughout the day.
I’m married. Crushes are for my students, not me. I need to get my head on straight.
I am not weak. I am in control.
“Maybe you need a night out?” Catie suggests with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
“On a school night?” My mouth hangs open in surprise. “Don’t you have kids to put to bed?”
She rolls her eyes. “My husband can handle bedtime for a night. You look like you could use a strong drink.”
I scan the table to make sure no one else is listening. I don’t need my nosy, elderly, judgy coworkers listening in.
“Alright, I’m down,” I whisper conspiratorially. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll pick you up around eight,” Catie says with a gleam in her eye that promises trouble. “We can head downtown and have drinks. I’ll drive so you can drown your sorrows.”
She laughs as though it’s funny but she’s not entirely wrong.
I have been feeling pitiful. I spent all of Sunday wallowing in my sweatpants and watching terrible television.
Maybe I do need to do something to turn things around.
My phone buzzes against the table, pulling my gaze down towards the illuminated screen.
It’s a bank notification. I grab the device and hold it up to get a better look.
My shared card has been used to purchase an airplane ticket.
Well, I certainly didn’t buy one.
I unlock my phone and slide over to the airline app that we use to keep track of flights and get points.
Right there, staring at me from the screen, is a round trip ticket to Vegas that my husband purchased.
He’ll be gone for two days, it looks like.
My stomach swoops when I realize there wasn’t a second charge for a hotel.
Throwing my phone back down on the table I turn to Catie. “Yeah, I’m down. Let’s go out.”
When I agreed to go out tonight, I pictured us at a cute little wine bar, maybe nursing a glass or two of Pinot and pairing it with a dessert. This is not at all what I had in mind.
The club is loud and hot. Bodies writhe against each other under the flashing lights above.
Everything is so…overstimulating. The sounds, the smells, even the air seems to be thick.
I take another small sip of my rum and coke.
I haven’t really gone out since college.
I don’t even know what grown women drink at clubs like this.
I ordered what my twenty-one-year-old self used to order, but it’s too sweet, too syrupy.
“Regretting that sugary shit?” Catie asks as she eyes me nursing my glass.
She’s such a chameleon, able to seamlessly adapt into any environment she enters.
Tonight, she looks casual and fun in tight pants and a sequined swing top that shows off some side boob.
I chose a simple black dress and cardigan—thankfully, Catie convinced me to leave that in the car.
She sways to the music, her blonde hair shimmering slightly under the flashing lights.
“Yeah,” I admit solemnly. “I don’t really even know what to order, though.”
She gives me a pitying look that I know shouldn’t make me annoyed, but it does. I don’t want to be boring. I’ve just been so focused on being this ideal of what I should be for so long that along the way I might have lost myself. Too controlled for too long…maybe I need to just let go.
“I got you, babe,” she tells me with a smirk. “Stay right here.”
Not like I have a choice.
I don’t dare leave the comfort of my small, ill-lit corner.
I stand at our tall table awkwardly holding my drink between my sweating palms. I carefully glance up at the dance floor.
People grind against each other, their bodies molding to fit against the curves and lines of those around them seamlessly.
A beautiful woman catches my eye. She’s tall and curvaceous with long black hair and tanned skin.
She sways seductively to the beat of the music while a man grinds against her ass.
She looks so powerful, so sexy, so free.
My shoulders slump as I recede in on myself.
It was silly to come to a place like this.
I’m not this type of girl. I’m not effortlessly attractive and sexy.
I’m not powerful, not full of feminine allure that some women just seem to possess.
Eyes catch mine. Red glowing orbs stare at me from across the dance floor. My blood turns to ice in my veins as I take in the face of the Devil that’s been haunting me.
Not here. Not now.
The strobe lights flash, bathing us in darkness for a moment.
When they turn on again, he’s gone. My eyes scan the dance floor, desperately searching for the masked monster that I’m certain has been watching me, staking me like a predator toying with its prey before it strikes.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can feel the Devil watching me.
My chest constricts and my knees threaten to buckle beneath my weight.
And before I can even consciously register what is happening, I’m moving.
My feet carry me swiftly through the sea of swarming bodies.
It’s too hot, too dark, too overstimulating here.
I need to get out. I need to get away. The all too familiar sense of overwhelming dread and fear threatens to pull me under.
My breaths come in short stuttered bursts as my fight or flight response spirals me closer and closer to full-blown panic.
I haven’t felt this out of control in so long.
I thought I was past this, but here I am, fleeing from a ghost who haunts me as if he can sense the broken pieces of me that have been buried deep, deep down inside.
I push and shove people out of the way, barely registering their annoyed comments as I hurdle toward the emergency exit on the side of the building. I run for the door, pushing on the metal and throwing myself into the darkness beyond.
The cold night air pricks my lungs as I swallow down deep breaths. It burns, but the burn is comforting. I’m alone. I’m safe. There’s no one here to witness my breakdown. I hunch forward, place my hands on my thighs, and close my eyes.
In for five, out for seven. In for five, out for seven.
I repeat the breathing exercise, forcing myself to slow down. It’s a trick I learned long ago when I was a different me in an inferential lifetime. I thought I’d moved past the fear, the flight, the fury. But apparently, some things refused to stay buried, no matter how far down you dig the grave.
”Ali, you okay?” a deep voice asks from behind. A strong, steady palm lands on the small of my back.
I reflexively jump and spin, turning to look at the intruder. Piercing blue eyes stare back at me, worry swirling in his ocean irises.
“Gabriel,” I balk as I try to regain my composure. “What the hell are you doing here?” My words come out jagged and uneven as I fight to steady my ragged heart rate.
He looks slightly taken aback and a twinge of guilt runs through me. He doesn’t deserve my ire. He’s been nothing but nice to me. And yet, I can’t help feeling annoyed with everything right now. It’s not him, it’s the entire world. It’s the spiraling mess of my life.
“I was grabbing a beer with my friend.” He shrugs his shoulder casually, but I don’t miss the way his tight black sweater pulls taut against his muscular frame.
Everything about him is imposing. “I saw you rush by and run outside. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He takes a step toward me, swiping a loose strand of hair off my cheek.
His touch is light and sends shivers skittering down my skin. “I can leave you alone if you’d like.”
I swallow down the lump building in my throat and shake my head. I’m unable to form words as his scent wraps around me, intoxicating me with his smoke and pine flavor. My head swims and I feel unsteady on my feet. He leans in further, his hand landing lightly on my hip.
“Are you drunk, Ali?” His words whisper across my skin as he leans down toward me. His fingers lay teasingly on my hip. I want him to grip me, to feel his fingers dig into my flesh. It feels as though I might combust if he doesn’t truly touch me. But I don’t dare move.
“No,” I tell him softly as I stare into his stormy irises.
“Good,” he says as he leans closer, our lips barely a breath apart. “I’d hate for you to do something you’ll wake up and regret.”
“Like wh—” I begin to ask, but before I can even finish the words, his lips crash against mine.
My breath leaves my lungs for just a moment as surprise racks through me. His fingers grip my hip, pulling me to him as his mouth moves against mine. For a moment, I’m frozen in shock.
I shouldn’t kiss him back. It would be wrong, unfaithful, traitorous.