“Hope you didn’t buy a new glass case for all your awards,” Zayn drawls with a smirk in David’s direction. “Would be such a waste.”
David just grins at Zayn.
“Seems like you’re not so much a winner tonight, either, if you ask me.”
Confusion furrows my brow as I take in the way the twomen glare at each other, hostility lacing the air between them.
“What does that mean?” I ask David, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Zayn as he answers me.
“I think Zayn knows.”
Hating knowing that there’s something going on I’m not aware of, I avoid turning to face Zayn as he stands and walks away. It doesn’t take long for his spot to be filled byMonica.
“So, Gianna. How do you and Zayn know each other?”Monica’svoice is soft like butter, feminine to match her beautiful face, but there’s a subtle stand-offishness to her demeanour, like she doesn’t know how to take me. My spine stiffens as I swallow my mouthful and turn to face her.
“We went to school together.”
“Ah. You were friends at school?” she inquires not-so-subtly, running her fingers along the stem of her wine glass. Her eyes, which were doe-like in Zayn’s presence, narrow to slits as she stares at me.
I hover my spoon in front of my lips, my shoulders rigid. “Not quite. He was my first love.”
“Ah.” She nods slowly, more to herself than anything. Then her gaze slides over my shoulder, her eyes softening as she stares at something, or someone, in the distance. “He would have been hard to get over, yes?”
I almost respondyou have no idea,however, something in her voice makes me pause.Longing.Maybe she does have some idea about it.
My heart crumples inside my chest. Is Zayn in love with her, too? Why didn’t they come to this event together?
Like she read my mind, she says, “You know, Zayn and I have attended these events together in the past.”
I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and turn, seeking out Zayn amongst the crowd. I find him easily, myeyes forever drawn to his beautiful face, laughing at something someone said. His dimples flash, and an ache so intense it threatens to eviscerate my heart completely settles inside my ribcage.
“We usually leave together, too.” It’s spoken softly, more like a fact than an insult intended to cut, still my head snaps back to the woman beside me.
I guess social etiquette has left the chat.
I study Monica’s face, which is even more stunning up close. I can see how Zayn would easily fall in love with her. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s obviously incredibly smart to become such a prestigious lawyer. Like Zayn, she’s taking home more than a few awards tonight.
Useless. Dumb. Nothing.
How could I, a divorced mess of a woman, ever compare to her?
I have a flicker of a vision of what they would look like at their wedding. A perfect couple. The breath escapes my lungs.
“Well, don’t break tradition on my behalf,” I find myself saying, my voice nearly unrecognisable with forced joviality. “We’re just friends. He’s all yours.”
The knife is no longer being twisted, instead it’s been yanked clean and I feel like I’m bleeding out from the wound.
I stare longingly at my empty wine-glass. I haven’t had a drink out in public since I was drugged, and right this very moment is the first time it’s been a problem for me. I would absolutely love to smash back a glass of liquid courage right now. Wouldn’t say no to a bit of foggy memory loss tomorrow morning upon waking up either, to erase this very moment from the old temporal lobe.
“It was so nice to meet you, but I think I can see someone calling me over to the bar.”
I stand abruptly and head straight towards the makeshift bar that’s been set up next door to the DJ booth. Lingering near the end of the bar so not to catch the bartender’s attention, I wait for him to be distracted by a group of already half-cut patrons ordering shots before I slip my hand behind the counter and snatch an unopened bottle of wine.
“I saw that.”
I turn, startled, to see the smiling face of the young DJ lad. With a hand over my racing heart, I step closer and rest my hip up against his decks.
“You gonna snitch on me?”
