2. What’s The Worst That Could Happen? #3
And this woman, this stranger, she sure as hell isn’t her.
“Liam,” I eventually greet. The stranger smiles softly, raising her brows as I fight to think of something else to say to her.
God, I’ve lost my touch.
Then again, when was the last time I hit on a girl?
Don’t answer that, my subconscious tells me. But an answer screams out of me regardless: Aubrey.
Under the bar, Brennan smacks my leg, and I hurriedly clear my throat. “Uh, want a drink?” I ask as Brennan reaches behind to give me a thumbs up.
“Vodka soda.” She says to the bartender, who turns away and starts the order.
“Too good for a beer?” I jest, wishing I hadn’t said those words.
They feel wrong. Like they belong to someone else.
Someone she’ll never be.
“So, are you a freshman?” The woman asks.
I rub at my chest, pulling the fabric of my hoodie that is suddenly too tight against my skin. Clearing my throat, I shove her drink towards her. The bar is so loud, becoming a constant pulse thumping in my skull. My fingers find my eyes as I press down, trying to get the pounding to stop.
When I remember that she asked me a question, I finally reply, “No. A senior. Well, I guess a junior, technically—I don’t know, it’s complicated.” I manage poorly.
Why the fuck would I say that?
I watch her take a slow sip, her eyes dancing around the bar. Probably asking herself, of all the men here, why in the hell she decided to approach me.
Before I can stew on it anymore, the girl tilts her head and says, “Wait…” Her eyes narrow on me, “Was that you on the screen a second ago?!”
My eyes slam closed as I run a hand across my face.
Here. We. Fucking. Go.
A heavy weight settles over my shoulders, physically altering my posture as I stand from the barstool.
“Wait! OH MY GOD! It totally was you! You’re Liam Anderson!
” she exclaims, her hand finding my shoulder.
“Talk about disgusting! Your leg was like, backward! How can you even walk after something like that? Wait—I have to ask…how bad did it hur—” she begins, but I walk away before she’s done talking.
Brennan calls after me, but I wave him off.
I’m already gone, a world away, pulled back to that night when everything was taken from me.
I knew coming back would be hard. Nothing, though, could have prepared me for this—for having to face all my worst memories everywhere I go. It’s like I’m walking around, waiting for my feet to be taken out from under me, slamming me hard against the ground as my breath is stolen from me.
My chest tightens, a phantom weight spreading over me like a disease. My breathing turns shallow and frantic, each breath chasing the next, making it nearly impossible to slow down. I move aimlessly, ignoring the stares of the people I bump into.
My heart slams against my ribs—so similar to the brutal fucking hit I just witnessed on the replay, knocking the air out of you as you’re thrown against the glass in a game. The room feels hazy, like I’m watching it turn through the bottom of a whiskey glass, though I’ve had nothing to drink.
My thoughts spiral.
I’ve got to get out of here.
People are staring.
Pointing fingers.
Heat floods me despite the cold air seeping through the bar door, which lets in a steady stream of customers and the frigid night air.
I pull out my phone, my fingers near useless as they shake, buzzing with pins and needles. But I force them across the screen, sending a quick message to our group chat:
The Puck Boys (and Liam).
Clever fucking name. I think, cursing Brennan and his imagination as I type out:
Liam:
Calling it a night. Taking an Uber back.
I tuck my phone away after I find a driver and head for the exit, trying to prepare myself for the bone-chilling cold that awaits me.
But just as I near my escape, I collide with another person.
My nose twitches, a scent dancing everywhere around me.
It’s soft. Familiar. My eyes flutter closed, and for a second, it feels like she never left—like she’s curled up in my arms, hair plastered all around me as she drifts off to sleep, the coconut and lavender notes of her shampoo tormenting me.
Like maybe, I’ll wake up from this nightmare, and she’ll still be there.
I open my eyes and stumble back when I see it really is her standing before me.
Her skin is just as I remember it, soft and littered with freckles, standing out from the pale-faced crowds of the bar.
Her hair cascades around her, curls loose.
That’s no surprise. It’s never held a style, no matter how long she spends on it.
The short strands of her bangs fall over her eyes—just enough to hide them from me, making my heart sink.
My eyes find her smile. Once it might have been me behind that grin. Now, I’m the reason it disappears, like the sun burning away the morning fog.
And damn me if my heart doesn’t stop in my chest.
“Liam—” she says, calling after me.
But I’m already out the door, leaving her behind. Or at least trying to. Because there is no cure for erasing Aubrey Vaughn from your memory.
Trust me, I’ve tried.