Chapter 3
Three
Ari
Sweaty bodies filled the club as alcohol mixed with the anxious yearning I’d been trying all week to forget.
I was no stranger to obsessing over someone before, but this?
Whatever this was was an uncharted territory that I didn’t know how to navigate.
I vowed to do whatever—or whoever—I could to get the red-haired violist out of my mind, but fate had laughed in my face and decided otherwise.
All week I’d been tortured by seeing that deep cherry red hair everywhere.
Maybe it was a new trend, or maybe karma had a sense of humor, but I was convinced at this point that I’d started manifesting them.
I wasn't sure what to do about it. Red hair followed me wherever I went like a lighthouse cutting through fog, and every single time my heart leapt into my throat at the sudden possibility that this time it really was him.
Except it never was, and every single time my heart broke a little bit more.
Tonight I was at a new club, hoping I could find someone that would take these thoughts away.
Hoping the bass would thud some sense into me until a cute man with blue or green or brown eyes and no inhibitions would magically appear in front of me, begging on his hands and knees for my attention.
I was happy to shove my tongue into someones mouth if it meant I’d forget what my own name was.
I’d even go home with him if he was cute enough, but no matter how long I looked, none of the boys compared to the man with red hair.
“Are you here with someone?” A man’s voice said loudly to my left. I turned to see a short guy with black hair who was swaying back and forth like he was out at sea. Obviously he was already over served, and it wasn’t even eleven yet.
I forced a semi-friendly smile onto my face and nodded lightly, “Yeah, I’m just waiting for my boyfriend to get here.” It was a lie, but this was always the easiest way to get people to leave me alone.
“Are you… sure?” he slurred, leaning closer until I could smell the sick stench of different flavored alcohols mixed with… what was that? A burger? Gross.
“I’m positive, yeah!” I shouted quickly, nodding as I tried my best to put some space between us.
I had no interest in making friends with him, but when I glanced down at the cup in my hand, it was still half-full.
I threw my head back and gulped until it was gone.
What better excuse to ditch this guy than saying I had to go get another?
But before I could get the words out, the song faded into a mashup of a popular metal song and some heavy dubstep, and a flash of color caught my eye.
Cherry red hair.
My heart did a somersault in my chest as I shoved my empty cup into the poor man’s hands and automatically rushed after my violist, nearly choking on the tequila still in my mouth.
I’d only seen the back of his head, but the shaggy shoulder-length haircut was unmistakable as it dusted the shoulders of a perfectly tailored black suit.
It was him. It had to be.
I frantically shoved my way through the bodies moving on the dance floor, unable to even say excuse me as I fought against the crowd.
I’d already made the biggest mistake of my life, and losing him a third time wasn’t an option.
I darted through an opening as bodies shifted, but no matter where I looked, I couldn’t see the red hair anymore.
My head swiveled frantically as my eyes darted from one person to the next, but all I found were odd glances and a few scowls.
How had I lost him again? He was impossible to miss!
My body ached for the familiar sight of high cheekbones and dark brown eyes, desperately going over every single head that loomed above the crowd for the red hair that was haunting my dreams. But he wasn’t there.
I was frozen in place, lingering at the edge of the crowd, until I saw red hair come out of the bathroom. Except, instead of my violist, this man was a stranger.
It wasn't him.
Why was it never him?
I tried to choke down the disappointment that hit like withdrawal, but it filled my lungs until I was nothing more than a brick sinking to the bottom of a lake.
I was drowning; consumed by the very idea of loving him.
How was I supposed to escape the spell he had unknowingly placed me under?
I stumbled around the back of the club as I choked back tears, motioning to the bouncer that I needed out as the start of a panic attack prickled the edges of my vision.
He saw me immediately, and shoved a few people out of the way to clear a path for me.
“Hey! Hey, are you alright?” The bouncer asked, quickly pulling me through the door that led to outside.
Cold air hit my face, and I took a shaky breath in, trying to ground myself back to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied, trying to wave him off as I clutched my chest. “I just got some bad news about my boyfriend, and I need to go home.”
The bouncer looked me up and down before narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “You sure you didn't take anything?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, giving him a genuine smile back as I tried to pretend I was fine. “I promise. I only had one drink.”
He stared at me as I absentmindedly thumbed the edge of my skirt hem, fully aware that he was trying to decide if I was lying or not, but then he nodded.
“Alright. You be safe out there tonight?”
“Yeah, I will,” I said through tears, but he was already halfway inside.
— ?? —
The incident at the club only made things worse, until I was so far gone, nothing relieved my pain.
I spent months on edge, looking for the man with red hair.
My life had been reduced to nothing more than eating, sleeping, drinking, and barely doing my job.
I tried fucking my feelings away, but no matter who I brought home with me, they couldn’t compete with the fantasy I’d invented inside my mind.
I was consumed.
Life lost its spark, and I spent every waking moment wondering if I’d ever get it back.
The same bars and clubs turned into a boring blur of monotony, until faces grew far too familiar for comfort, and I knew I couldn’t go back anymore. When a new event space opened up on the opposite side of town, it wasn’t even a question if I’d go.
I didn’t have high hopes for The Garden Pub.
The name definitely left something to be desired, but someone had bought one of the old warehouses on the outskirts of town, and I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to take my mind off my violist. When I got there, the outside still looked like it needed a week’s worth of power washing, but the line full of people in rock t-shirts and black jeans was a relief.
I was genuinely excited when I made it to the bouncer and found out the surprise music event was three local bands instead of another DJ.
The first band was already on stage when I flashed my ID.
A small crowd of people had already pressed against the front of the stage, and it made me smile as I watched them move to the music.
No one was shaking ass or grinding against the person next to them.
It was just people enjoying music, mingling at the long bar on the back side of the venue or hovering around the merch tables that had been set up on my right.
I smiled at one of the girls holding up one of the band’s t-shirts that was for sale, and headed straight for the bar, hoping to grab a beer.
“Excuse me,” I said, leaning over the wooden bar top as I tried to get the attention of the bartender. He was kneeled down in front of one of the mini fridges with his head halfway inside, digging for something towards the back. “What do you have on tap that’s good?”
I froze when crystal blue eyes and a boyish smile appeared, and my mouth hung half-open as he walked over. All I had seen before was a mop of messy brown hair and a grey t-shirt, but there was something about the worried crease between his eyebrows that make my breath catch.
“I’m so sorry. I know it’s opening night, but we only have lager because our other keg isn’t working, and it’s been a whole thing, but I can make you literally anything else if you want and—”
The words tumbled out of his mouth in a blur as he motioned towards the rows of liquor lining the back wall, and I bit my lip to stifle a laugh.
“No,” I interrupted with a chuckle, flashing him a smile as I shook my head. “Don’t worry. A lager is perfect.”
His shoulders were broad, and I watched as they relaxed slightly. “Cool, thanks. Again, I’m so sorry,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “It’s been a crazy night tonight.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. It doesn’t seem so bad, though.”
I leaned forward when he smiled, resting my elbows on the bar so that I could use my biceps to push my breasts together. When he raked his eyes down my body, I bit my bottom lip and smiled. He only stared for a second, but I caught a glance of flushed cheeks as he turned around to get my drink.
I expected our interaction to end there—bartenders never spared me a second glance—but he walked by the stack of clean glasses and made sure I was still looking before reaching for one of the glasses that had been tucked away on the tallest shelf above the liquor.
I smirked as the bottom of his grey t-shirt rode up, giving me the perfect peek of a chiseled stomach and the outline of a hip bone that begged to be kissed.
I didn’t miss the glance over his shoulder while he poured the beer to ensure I was still watching.
I absolutely was.
“This one’s on the house,” he said, only loud enough for me to hear. When he slid the glass into my hands, he didn’t let go quick enough, so the tips of our fingers brushed against each other and it sent sparks up my arm.
“Thanks,” I said softly, giving him the once-over with my eyes before walking into the crowd.