1. Chapter 1 #3
“Nope.” I pushed the glass further away from me to make my point, and I watched a flicker of annoyance cross his features.
“I guess we know which of you two is the fun one,” he said snidely, sipping from his own glass.
What the fuck?
Just as I was about to tell the bastard off, our waitress returned carrying a huge tray of steaming dishes. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but admire the bowl placed in front of me. It was beautiful–red broth steaming with bits of seafood and savory aromas. The scent alone made my mouth water.
Deciding to ignore Gabe’s rude comment, I didn’t wait for anyone else. I took a big spoonful of the cioppino and was overwhelmed by flavor.
The broth was rich and tangy, hints of spice, herbs, and the faintest touch of sweetness. I dipped a slice of the bread into the broth and let it soak, savoring every bite.
Everything else around me went dim as I devoured my food, my grumbling stomach finally coming to an ease. It wasn’t until I finished my last unladylike slurp of the broth that I looked up and reality hit me square in the face.
Across the table, Chad topped off Tara’s glass with the remainder of the champagne. She was swaying in her seat, oblivious to my hard stare from across the table. I sighed and turned to glance at Gabe.
To my horror, he was already watching me. His smile was crooked, his upper lip wet with sweat. A bead of it dripped from his forehead onto his plate.
“So,” he slurred, “nice place, huh? Good food?”
I stiffened. “Yes… My dinner was astounding. How was yours?”
He scoffed. “Yeah. Astounding.” His breath reeked of something far more vile than the liquor he’d been drinking. He leaned in suddenly, and I felt his sweaty hand sliding up my thigh under the table.
I shot up from my chair. “Seriously? What the hell is your problem?” I shrieked.
Heads turned. Conversations paused.
I grabbed my purse off the floor, voice shaking. “You’re absolutely revolting.”
I turned away from the table, heart pounding, scanning the restaurant for the restroom. I spotted a sign near the back and beelined toward it, weaving through waitstaff and crowded tables. My heels echoed against the floor with each hurried step.
Thank god there was no line for the bathroom. I knocked twice out of habit, then pushed the door open and quickly locked it behind me.
Shock racketed my system the second I was alone. My hands trembled as I stepped to the sink and turned on the faucet. I scrubbed them hard, as if I could wash away the memory of Gabe’s hand on my skin.
Then came a knock from outside the bathroom.
“Lucy, open the door!” Tara’s voice hissed through the crack.
I shut off the faucet, flicked the water from my hands, and turned the lock. Tara stumbled inside, and I closed the door behind her.
“What just happened?” she asked, her brow furrowing. She grabbed my arms, whether to comfort me or steady herself, I wasn’t sure.
“What happened?” I repeated with sharp disbelief. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy living in some kind of fantasy world, you’d notice these guys are absolute creeps!” The anger had been building since we sat down. Now it bubbled over my last ounce of self-restraint.
Her expression shifted. Her fingers slipped away from my arms, and she crossed her own. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means they’re total douchebags, Tara! You always find the most obnoxious, toxic guys and then wonder why nothing works out. It’s so pathetic and desperate, and I’m sick of being dragged into it!”
She stared at me, blank-faced. Then her glazed eyes narrowed.
“I’m pathetic and desperate? You would never meet anyone if it wasn’t for me,” she slurred.
“You’re going to end up single and alone forever if you keep acting like you’re better than everyone else.
” She spun toward the door and yanked at the handle.
When it didn’t budge, she swatted at the deadbolt with a dramatic gasp. “Agh!”
She flung the door open and stormed out before I could get in another word.
The bathroom was silent again, but inside me everything rattled. My eyes stung. I blinked fast. We’d never fought like that before.
I always tried to avoid conflict with Tara.
I let things slide. Like when she left clothes on the bathroom floor for days or filled our fridge with old takeout containers I’d eventually throw away.
I tried to be the one who kept the peace.
I supported her through every ridiculous relationship, every messy breakup. Always.
But tonight…I’d reached my limit.
She was wrong–I didn’t think I was better than anyone. My scholarship depended on good grades. I couldn’t afford distractions, and I refused to risk it all just so I could have a boyfriend.
That didn’t mean I never felt lonely.
On the nights Tara stayed at some guy’s apartment, I curled up alone with my true crime documentaries or drafting my next designs.
In the mornings when I saw cute couples holding hands on the bus.
Or even earlier tonight when I watched that old woman brush the hair from her partner’s face, and he kissed her fingers so intently.
Yeah, sometimes I felt alone.