Chapter 30 Molly
Molly
The club we end up at is one that Devi’s dragged me to before.
I don’t love going out but Devi forced my hand on her birthday the last couple of years, and I can admit I begrudgingly had a good time.
I felt like it was an essential human experience for a millennial living in New York City, though, and while Elijah claims that vampire parties sound not so dissimilar to human clubs, I still think he needs to see it first-hand.
Elijah picks me up from my house to take the train with me and my mouth goes dry looking at him in black pants with a matching black button-up.
No baseball hat. He looks hot as hell, the kind of hot that has people staring at him on the train, probably wondering what kind of famous he is to be looking like he does.
I look hot, too, for the record. I’m wearing a navy dress that hugs my curves and has a long slit up the side.
I also broke out my old pair of black cowboy boots.
My hair is half up, the top half tied using a bow that’s the same colour as the dress.
Elijah has picked up the ends of my hair three times already, running his fingers through the strands as he stares at them.
Devi, her roommates, and, for some reason, Kenneth are already there when we arrive. I invited Hailey, too, and she chats with Devi. They both squeal when they see us, pulling me into a tight hug.
‘You look so hot, this eye shadow is insane on you!’ Hailey pinches my cheeks lightly. ‘You’re the coworker?’ she asks Elijah.
I can tell some pre-gaming has been done.
‘Yes, and you’re the best friend,’ Elijah says, smooth as usual. She beams and pulls him in for a hug, too.
‘Bro, how have you never clubbed when you look like this?’ Devi asks.
‘Like Molly says, he grew up Irish,’ Kenneth says.
‘Amish,’ I correct.
‘Right.’ Kenneth sips on a bright blue drink. Something fruity with a shitload of alcohol, I’m sure. ‘Can I get you two a shot?’
‘He doesn’t drink,’ I tell him.
‘That’s okay! I’ll get you a soda.’ Devi drags Kenneth with her to retrieve the drinks.
Devi’s roommates ask Elijah questions I have a hard time hearing over the music while we wait.
As soon as the shots are brought back to the table, we down them at the same time before I let Hailey and Devi pull me to the floor.
Hailey and I used to party, not frequently, but sometimes to celebrate a hard semester or any other grad school-related accomplishment.
The three of us dance and jump together, arms in the air while we shout the words to the Black Eyed Peas remix thrumming through the club.
It’s loud and hot and a line of sweat is already sliding down my back, but Elijah is looking at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever witnessed, and his attention does more than the shots did to loosen me up.
Three songs in, a pair of cold hands touch my shoulders and I smile, knowing without looking that it’s Elijah behind me. I’ve learned his touch, his scent, his hands, his body, and I don’t hesitate before leaning backwards against his front and swaying with him, his hands holding my hips.
‘You’re a good dancer,’ Elijah says into my ear. He spins me so we’re facing each other, and my arms fall around his neck while we move to the beat. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or his otherworldly charm, but I don’t give a shit if our friends see us dancing together.
Well, maybe I give a little bit of a shit. One single shit given, because I know I’ll have to explain tomorrow to Devi that there’s nothing going on between us beyond a sort of temporary situationship that we both know leads nowhere.
For now, though, pop club remixes play through speakers and I sing along, letting Elijah pull me closer to him, my middle firmly against his while he looks down at me. It’s pure fun dancing with him like this, and he’s looking at me like I contain a whole universe in my eyes.
‘I like you,’ he tells me.
‘And I like-like you,’ I yell into his ear.
Elijah’s dimples make their appearance before he presses his mouth to mine. I’m smiling too big when he pulls back, too far gone now to pretend I won’t have some explaining to do to my friends.
Something catches Elijah’s attention over my shoulder and his face falls, something haunted taking its place.
I stop dancing and raise my eyebrows at him. I try to turn to look but he tightens his hold on my shoulders.
‘What’s—’
‘You’re so beautiful, Molly,’ he says, voice strained as he speaks to be heard over the music.
‘What’s wrong?’
Elijah puts his hands on either side of my face and kisses me again, a harder press of his lips to mine. ‘I want you to have everything you want in this life.’
He drops his hands and rushes off the dance floor without me. Stunned, I follow him, trying to keep up with his much faster steps as we weave through bodies. I grab my jacket as we pass our table, but Hailey stops me, her hand on my forearm.
‘Did you see Matty?’ she asks, oblivious to my hot pursuit of Elijah.
‘What?’
‘Matty,’ she says again, louder, though I heard her fine. I am just having a difficult time comprehending. ‘He’s here.’
Hailey points in the direction of the bar where, sure enough, none other than my cheating ex-fiancé is standing, looking at us.
I wince, startled to see him after so long.
His hair is a little longer, but still coiffed just-so on his head, and his pale blue button-up is unbuttoned enough to show the top of his dark chest hair.
He nods to me and pushes off the bar, headed obviously in our direction. I decide that this is the last thing I need when Elijah is almost at the exit.
‘Tell him hi. I gotta go, I feel sick,’ I lie, and she frowns.
‘Love you love you love you,’ I say making rushed kissing noises before turning and almost jogging out of the club.
I tug on my jacket as I get to the door, but when I push outside, already calling Elijah’s name, he’s nowhere to be seen in either direction.
What the hell happened in there?
I’ve never seen that haunted look on his face, the stricken concern around his eyes, the tight frown on his lips.
There was nothing of the flirty, smitten vampire he’d been when he picked me up this evening.
My shoulders slump as I stand in the night air, the cold a shock against my still-hot skin, the sweat on my neck and scalp cooling while my breath steams in front of me.
Elijah doesn’t pick up when I call, so I stuff my phone back in my pocket and turn to head to my train station in a confused huff.
When I hear my name called out behind me, I turn, hopeful for one stupid second that it’s Elijah, only to find Matt jogging down the sidewalk behind me.
‘Oh, Christ,’ I mutter.
‘Molly, hey.’
‘Hi, Matty,’ I intone, slowing to a stop despite wanting nothing less than to talk to him right now. When he reaches me, he pulls me into a quick hug, like we’re old friends.
‘What are you rushing out for? It’s still early.’
‘Not that early. I’m, uh, not feeling well.’
‘Where’s that guy you were with? I met him at work once.’
‘He had to go.’ I shrug. ‘Emergency.’
‘Too bad,’ he says, but he doesn’t sound like he thinks this is such bad news. ‘It’s good to see you, Moll, you look great.’
‘Thanks.’ I don’t ask him how he’s doing, even though I know that’s the polite thing to do, the thing I’m supposed to do. I don’t want to extend this conversation for any longer than necessary, and honestly, I think it’s been long enough.
Matt doesn’t feel the same, though, because he nods in the direction of the street behind me. ‘Walk you to your station?’ he asks.
I sigh, but nod and turn in that direction.
He falls into step behind me, his hands pushed into his slacks pockets.
I can smell the cologne he’s always worn and smelling it feels surreal, like a melding of times.
The scent of Matt used to be such a comfort to me, but now it feels sour in my memories.
I used to love how he smelled. He was so warm coming in after working late, stripping to his boxers and crawling into bed without showering.
I loved pressing my face into the crook of his neck while he rubbed my back. It was my favourite part of the day.
The memory isn’t one I’ve thought about in a long while, and it makes me feel angry. Frustrated. Embarrassed all over again. It’s a cocktail of emotions like the ones I felt when I was a teenager out of sorts and flustered by anything.
‘How you been? Did you ever finish your book? The one about the waitress?’
‘No, I haven’t really had time for that lately,’ I lie.
I don’t like that he remembers what I was writing.
He shouldn’t remember anything about me; I want to take every memory he has of me and give them to someone else.
Elijah maybe, if he hadn’t just sprinted away from me like I was plague-stricken.
Matty frowns. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
I don’t thank him for his condolences, and barely refrain from tapping my foot.
‘I was hoping to see you tonight—’
‘Wait, you knew I was going to be at the club? Is that why you’re here?’ I ask, hackles sufficiently raised.
‘Luke mentioned missing going out with some friends tonight and I just guessed—’
‘What do you want, Matt?’ I’m not one to fight on the sidewalk, but I’m mad and confused and still embarrassed by Elijah rushing away from me.
‘I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been thinking a lot about you, Molly.’
‘I haven’t thought of you,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t think of you, Matt. You cheated on me. Many times, for years.’
‘I know, and I know it was wrong, Moll. I’m so sorry I did that to you.’
‘I’m sorry you did that too!’ I say, voice too high and full of derision. ‘Why do you feel the need to keep trying to have this conversation? I get it, you’re sorry. Let’s move on.’
‘Get dinner with me sometime,’ he says. ‘Please, Molly.’
I squint at Matt, his apologetic and earnest expression so dissonant from the image of him I’ve kept in my mind for years, the man who thought I was foolish to end our relationship for something as simple as casual infidelity.
Now he looks repentant. It makes me feel worse.
I turn around without responding, not caring if I’m being rude.
‘Moll, please.’
Matt grabs my hand and pulls me back. I yank it from his grip and cross my arms over my chest. I’m overreacting, I know, but what the fuck? He holds up his palms in surrender.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. When I don’t accept his apology, he tries again: ‘Will you think about it? I’m–I’ve changed. I found a box of cards and notes you wrote me, those poems you’d slip into my laptop on the backs of receipts. Do you remember?’
‘What the hell,’ I mutter. Of course I remember the notes, the love letters, the impromptu poems, silly things, because I loved him. I loved him so freely, I trusted him so easily.
‘I know how it sounds,’ Matt starts. ‘I realised that I’ve been missing you for months–years if I’m honest.’
‘It sounds insane, Matt. You sound delusional.’
‘I was an idiot to lose you.’
‘Matt.’ I hold up my palm between us and he stops talking.
‘I’m going home. Don’t follow me.’
He looks disappointed but gives a reluctant nod and doesn’t follow me when I walk away.
I make sure he doesn’t follow me into the station, onto the platform, or into the train car. Elijah hasn’t called me back, nor texted.
When the doors slide shut behind me and I slump into a seat, I close my eyes, hot tears spilling over my eyelids and down my cheeks. I feel more acutely lonely than I have in a long while.