10. Ten #2
My gaze lifts to his face, aching. “Why are you trying to make me the villain?”
“Because someone has to be.” He mocks, and there’s something hollow in it, “and it can’t be him.”
He leans in close to my ear, voice dropping to a whisper that slides right under my skin, sending shivers down my spine. He smells of a man and ashes and clean laundry.
“Congratulations.” His voice is low with caution.
I blink. “What—what does that mean?”
He crooks a smile as it flickers on his lips, looking away. But it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It means your games come with consequences now.”
Heat of anger floods my cheeks.
“What consequences?” I start, but then a shadow moves behind me.
Tyler.
He steps up to my side like a wall, tall and claiming.
“Everything okay here?” he asks, gaze locked on Liam as if he is ready for a fight.
Liam’s eyes go blood-hot, jaw twitching, holding back, and the sight of him bothered is slightly enjoyable. I’ve never wanted to plan someone’s funeral as much as do with his.
“Tyler, it’s fine,” I blurt, my hand on his arm.
“She said it’s fine,” Liam echoes, sarcasm sharp as a blade.
Tyler grins. “I think we have different definitions of being fine. You should leave.”
Liam’s voice comes like thunder. “You’re probably right, but just for now.”
He smiles and winks at me, a way that would be seductive to others, but only I can decipher the destruction passing through.
“Have a nice evening, bro.” Tyler wraps his arm around my waist, and it makes my insides turn, wondering why it bothers me he does it in front of Liam. I don’t want him to think I’d be able to move on so quickly from Joe, because I haven’t.
“Happy birthday,” Liam says again, stepping back as if he never intended to wish me anything good.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Tyler asks, closing up on me, snapping my focus back to him. For a moment I feel suffocated, but an edge of loneliness creeps in, and perhaps I’d rather be with him than by myself, which says a lot.
“Go where? To the pier?” I ask.
“The pier, or we can skip the pier, and you can come by and have a birthday shot with me?” He towers over me, his deep green eyes luring me in, his hand remaining on my waist. I’m not convinced of making any excellent decisions tonight.
“Sure, let me go say bye to the girls.”
Tyler is waiting for me, looking out at the boats on the port, hands in his pockets, looking like half of Liam’s charisma, but I can sense he has more kindness in him, not that it would be hard to beat.
The air outside the restaurant is cooler than I expected, brushing my bare arms like a shiver I can’t quite shake.
“So, what’s it going to be, beautiful? My place?” he asks, voice warm, with a lazy smile daring me, lacing his arm around my shoulder and brushing my arm to keep it warm.
“I just…” I glance back, scanning the street for any trace of Liam. My chest is still tight from the way he said congratulations, like it was a threat.
“Yeah, your place. Let’s walk. I could use some air.”
Tyler leans in enough for me to smell the faint bite of whiskey on his breath. “Air, huh? I can give you better than that,” he says, as if the night already belongs to him. All I can muster is a pat on his chest.
We stroll toward the corner street, my heels clicking against the cobblestones.
His hand brushes mine and holds it, thumb stroking lazily over my knuckles, but I’m numb to his touch, yet aware of it.
It’s like eating a pint of ice cream through tears, and each scoop tastes dull, yet you finish the whole thing…
We walk towards where I’m guessing his apartment is.
I feel trapped in a daring daze. I shouldn’t follow him, but I don’t know what I want anymore.
Tonight, I'm perhaps chasing a feeling because I want to feel something. As I’m about to step into his building, I feel a shadow crossing my periphery at the street above, but when I look up, it’s vacant, leaving a streak of goosebumps on my skin.
I shake it off as we walk into his apartment, wooden floors and plants and a beige atmosphere.
I’m surprised at how neat it is and that he already lives by himself.
“You’re quiet,” he teases. “Still thinking about your visitor?”
I stiffen. “It’s not…”
“Relax.” He cuts in. “I’m not gonna lecture you. I don’t give a damn about him. I care about you—and I’m not in the mood to share.”
He walks into his kitchen, pours us drinks, and takes my hand to follow him onto the patio. He stops inches from my back and turns me to face him as he hands me a shot of vodka that I shoot back and wince at the relief from the burn in my throat. His eyes scan my face, longing to have me here.
“You get to decide what you want. Who you want,” he murmurs, twisting them into something dark.
His fingers trail up my arm, lingering at my shoulder before brushing a curl of hair behind my ear.
The contact makes my skin tighten, heat pooling low in my stomach mixed with a feeling of not belonging.
A part of me argues I have to search for that place, put myself out there to find where I’d feel less alone.
Though right now, it feels like I’m swapping the cold tile of my bathroom floor for another distant fallacy.
“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?” he mutters. “Like you want me to kiss you?”
Bile forms in my mouth at his ego. Had I really been looking at him that way?
I swallow hard, pulse thudding in my throat. “Maybe.”
His mouth curves, slow and wicked. “Maybe it is. Come with me.” He says seductively, and it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s just another man with an agenda.
Inside, the bedroom are white sheets, a window cracked to the sound of cicadas, silence waiting with its hands open.
Tyler turns me to face him and steps closer until there’s barely a breath between us, his thumb grazing the corner of my lip.
I don’t move, and for a moment the world shrinks to the feel of him there, the space filling with tension.
“Say the word,” he breathes, “and I’ll make this the birthday you never forget. You trust me, right?”
I almost laugh.
Trust isn’t the word. I nod anyway because agreeing is easier than admitting I’m not here for him. I’m here to outrun a ghost.
“You’re beautiful.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
Something underneath that gentleness makes my stomach tight.
A little devil appearing on my shoulder tilting its head, promising relief. “At least you’ll feel something.”
A strap slides off my shoulder. My arms cross my stomach before I can stop them as he nudges them aside with patience that isn’t softness. The other strap follows. My sparkly dress gathers at my feet like a rebirth, shedding a new skin where moonlight cools every inch it leaves bare.
His mouth hovers over mine, and his hands find my waist. I turn my face a fraction, pretending to breathe him in, pretending it’s shyness and not distance I crave.
My mind attempts to quiet, to enjoy this moment, to let myself go and to stop protecting the version of myself that fractured the moment life sabotaged the illusion of permanence.
A version standing on a ledge, ready to lean forward just to end the wanting to want someone I’ll never be able to see again.
The rasp of his zipper somewhere far away. My own breath, shallow and fierce, as if I’m watching myself through glass.
“It will drown out his name,” the devil on my shoulder whispers.
My palms rest on Tyler’s chest, but they don’t pull him closer like the hunger I had once craved.