I clench my fingers into fists, readying myself to go to her. Someone bumps into me hard, my plastic beer cup hitting the floor and showering a whole host of ankles in weak lager.
‘Shit, sorry man,’ A young guy exclaims, spitting saliva at my face.
‘No worries,’ I say, shaking off my trousers.
‘Oh my god. You’re him!’ My stomach sinks at his excited shout. ‘The guy from the videos.’
He hits his buddy on the shoulder. The buddy’s face changes, morphing into recognition.
‘I fucking love you, man. Wish I had the balls to do what you do.’ The urge to flee rises. It’s one thing to get the digital praise from the safety of my iPad screen, but when confronted with it in person, it always makes me uneasy. These people who think they know me, whobelieve everything I say. Who cheerlead things I no longer even believe.
Stupid things.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I shout back at them, feigning ignorance.
‘You do. I’ve watched all your videos.’
Pulling out his phone, he goes to my social media page as I back away. ‘Nah, man, wrong guy.’
Then the video is in my face —my animated conversation with a fellow influencer, thankfully unable to compete with the music.
Turning away, I flee for the door, seeking an escape.
The cloakroom attendant hands my leather jacket over with a gruff nod when a feminine hand settles over my bicep.
‘Going so soon?’ A lilting voice whispers in my ear, the long scarlet nails dragging slowly over my skin and causing goose pimples to rise in their wake.
Interesting. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a bust after all.
‘I am. You coming?’ Facing her, I take in her dark, glittering eyes full to the brim with promise. I wait to see if recognition kicks in. To see if she either recoils from me or decides to make me a conquest.
It doesn’t come.
‘As long as you’re not going to kidnap me or anything…’
She shivers as I run a hand up to her jaw, pulling her close but refraining from sealing the kiss that lingersbetween us. Even with the promise of a night of lust-laced passion, the void inside me deepens.
Ignoring it, I swallow.
‘Promise I’ll have you in a cab home by morning.’
The whole ride home, I justify it in my mind.
She wants it. I want it. There’s nothing wrong with it.
Liar.
Hypocrite.
When we stumble into my hall, I see a paper bag on my door handle. Confusion fills me until I peer inside the bag and see some misshapen chocolate chip cookies.
Why does the void feel slightly less empty at the sight of the slightly too brown treats?
‘Come on,’ my evening distraction coos. ‘Take me inside and make me forget for a while.’
I don’t ask what she wants to forget.
And she doesn’t ask me, either.
