Chapter 3 #2
Now, though, I’m just tired and uncomfortable. It has been a busy day at the bakery and my body is aching from tottering around in Ashley’s ridiculous shoes. Whoever invented high heels obviously never had to wear them.
While I’m not here for anything other than support, there’s no harm in appreciating what’s in front of me, especially when he started it.
There is absolutely no denying that he’s gorgeous.
In fact, a warmth starts to build low down in my stomach as our eyes lock.
It’s a feeling I’ve not experienced in a long time.
He’s just a little taller than me, and I can tell from the way he fits his shirt that he’s muscular.
His arms are covered in tattoos; I’m assuming that they continue onto his chest as I can see some winding up the side of his neck.
It makes me curious as to what’s under that fabric.
I lift my gaze to his face. A smirk greets me – he knows that I’ve been checking him out.
My cheeks burn a little, but I refuse to back down.
He started this, I’m just returning the gesture.
Holy moly he’s handsome. Stubble covers his sharp jaw, his dirty blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, styled to the side.
It’s the type of haircut that looks deceptively low maintenance, but likely takes a lot more effort than he would ever admit.
Leaning against a wall, his arms are crossed over his chest as he watches me, a figure of stillness amongst a sea of moving bodies.
Maybe that’s why I can’t take my eyes off him?
Yes, that’s what it is, he stands out because of his lack of movement, definitely not because he’s gorgeous and watching me as though I’m a snack he can’t wait to devour.
He pushes away from the wall, his eyes locked on me, and starts to walk over. Time seems to slow, each of his steps smooth and purposeful, his body moving like a predator honing in on his prey.
Oh, shit. He’s coming over here. It’s one thing to watch him from afar, and another completely to actually interact with him.
I have no idea how to be around guys anymore, especially ones who look like him.
My heart pounds in my chest like a jackhammer, adrenaline pulsing through me as I try to decide what to do.
As far as I see it, I have two options: stay and talk to the mystery bad boy, or flee.
I choose the latter.
“I’m going to get a drink,” I shout over at Ashley, miming lifting a glass as the music swallows my voice.
She makes moves to untangle herself from the man she’s dancing with, but I hold up my hand, indicating that I’ll be fine on my own.
The look she gives me makes it clear that she’s not sure if she should believe me or not, but I force a smile on my face and turn away.
It’s probably a good thing that she can’t hear me, as she would’ve heard the panic in my voice and insisted she come with me.
With a final glance over my shoulder at the handsome stranger, I see he’s working his way around a group of people, annoyance making his face seem harsh in the dim pulsing light.
Turning away, I hurry from the dancefloor, my body hot and uncomfortable.
The queue for the bar is huge and the last thing I want to do is stand amongst a group of sweaty strangers.
I feel like I’m burning up. I shouldn’t be here.
This was a bad idea. I’m not ready for this yet, and I might never be ready for this.
The person I used to be doesn’t exist anymore, and the future that I once imagined for myself is gone.
My greatest trial at the moment is simply existing, so expecting myself to cope in a nightclub surrounded by people was never going to work.
No, I need to get out, go somewhere quiet.
Scanning the club, I see a sign for the restrooms and hurry towards them, trying not to stumble in my borrowed heels.
Weaving around groups of people, I manage to slip into the bathroom without freaking out.
Thankfully there isn’t a queue and I get into a cubical straight away.
Shutting the door behind me and closing the lid of the toilet, I sit down and drop my head in my hands.
I’m not ready for this. The damage that Jake did to me destroyed the person I was, but the cracks were already there; all his betrayal did was break something that was already broken.
My insecurities were laid out bare, as you do in a relationship.
He knew everything about me, and when he left, he threw them all back in my face.
I’m barely able to go to work, why did I think that leaving town and going to a nightclub was going to magically fix me?
Talking several slow, deep breaths, I sit up only to lean against the bathroom stall, the plastic cold against my face, helping to cool me down.
Thankfully, as my temperature lowers, my thoughts settle and I’m able to think more rationally.
This trip was perhaps premature, however, I’m out now so I should try to make the most of the evening.
If nothing else, it’s time that I get to spend with my best friend, something we’ve not been able to do in years.
Ashley’s going to wonder where I am if I don’t join her soon. Knowing her, before long she’ll send out a search party to find me.
Straightening my clothes, I exit the stall, wash my hands and splash some water on my face, and make my way back out to the club.
It’s manic out here. Pausing at the edge of the dancefloor, I look around for Ashley in the sea of people.
They seem to move as one, their bodies swaying and jiving in time to the music, seeming more like one solid organism instead of hundreds of individual people.
Glancing at the bar, I search for Ashley, but I still can’t see her. Already I can feel the uncomfortable feelings rising again. A cold breeze brushes my cheek and I glance to my left to see a door leading outside. The smokers’ door.
Ashley doesn’t smoke, but she may have gone outside for some fresh air, possibly to look for me when she couldn’t see me at the bar. Yes, that must be it. Now I have a plan, I can feel my panic receding. Even if she’s not out there, I could use the space and to feel the breeze against my hot skin.
Tottering over, I smile at the bouncer and receive a stamp on the back of my hand which will allow me re-entry to the club once I’m done.
Stepping over the threshold, a huge breath of relief escapes me as soon as the cool night air surrounds me, swallowing me in a calming bubble as the music from the club is dulled by the door.
Thank the pastry gods.
Glancing around, it doesn’t take me long to see that Ashley isn’t out here, but I’m not too worried.
I’ll stay put here for a bit and I’m sure she’ll track me down eventually.
Walking over to an empty space, I lean up against the wall and sigh in relief once more.
Closing my eyes, I drop my head forward, rubbing at my temples with my fingers, massaging the tension away.
“Bad night?”
My eyes shoot open at the deep voice and for a heart-pounding second I think that the bad boy has found me. Nope. A tall, lanky man in his mid-thirties stands close to me, smiling sympathetically, and my heart sinks. Wait, do I actually want him to track me down?
I don’t have time to think about that now, not when the guy in front of me is waiting for a response.
“Oh, it’s just been a long day,” I reply with a tight smile.
“Sorry to hear that.” His word are at odds with the slow smile that stretches his lips, not looking at all apologetic. “My name is Chris. Why don’t I buy you a drink?”
Something about him makes me uneasy, even though he’s done nothing to indicate he’s anything but a friendly guy looking out for a woman he thinks is in distress. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I smile back and shake my head slightly. “That’s very kind, but I’m fine.”
Annoyance flashes in his eyes, his smile tightening. “Come on, just one drink.”
Instantly, alarm bells are going off in my mind.
This guy wants a lot more from me than one drink, and if he’s offended by my gentle rejection then he’s definitely not the type of person I want to be around.
Still, I’m British and awkward, so instead of telling him where to go, I smile politely and take a step away.
“I need to go and find my friend; she’ll be looking for me.”
Face twisting, the stranger drops his mask and allows his frustration free range.
“You don’t need to make up a story. What is it with women?
You turn down a nice guy offering you a drink, but you’ll jump to impress the fuckboys.
” He looks down at me like I’ve just told him I eat babies for fun, his disgust written clear across his face.
“Fine, I can be an asshole too.” He reaches out and grabs my arm, fingers wrapping tightly enough to cause a mark.
Pulling, he jerks me forward towards him.
“You’re coming for a drink with me and we’re going to be civil. ”
I stumble, my stupid heels making me totter about and I have to reach out and brace myself against the wall. There is no way in the flaming pits of hell that I’m going to use him to steady myself and would rather faceplant the wall than have to have any more physical contact with him.
What the hell is wrong with this guy, thinking that the only way I would spend time with him is by force?
This sort of behaviour can’t possibly work on women; his sense of entitlement is sickening.
Clearly, he seems to believe that women should be flocking to him, and because I rejected him, he’s showing his true colours.
I may be broken-hearted, but I’m also strong enough to know an asshole when I see one.
“Get off me.” Frankly, I’m impressed with how even my voice is. There’s not a hint of a wobble or fear to be heard, just a simple order. Should be easy enough for him to understand.