“I know, Thallor.” I let the door swing open a little bit more before patting his chest twice, needing to bridge the gap between us but not trusting myself to get any closer. “You’re not as tough and scary as you pretend to be, you know?”
I watched as he brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. The golden undertones of his cheeks were replaced with something pinker and more flushed. And even though wewere standing closer together than ever before, he still struggled to hold my gaze, instead looking downwards as if his socks were the most interesting thing in the world. “You might be the only person who thinks that,” he said quietly.
“I’m the only one that matters, though, right?”Right?
When he didn’t say anything, I patted his chest one last time before letting my hand drop. It was like that one perfect scene–one that was also completely unscripted–where Mr Darcy’s hand flexes after holding Elizabeth Bennet’s hand. I felt the absence of his body so starkly, so acutely, that I cradled my hand in the other, just to give it some semblance of comfort.
“Sterling,” he said again, stepping in closer. The space between us was so small I could feel the shift in temperature; I could feel the warmth that radiated off him. I glanced up, the flicker of uncertainty behind his eyes not going unnoticed. I could see the question behind it. Behind the word.My name.I could see the ‘Are you sure about this?’and the ‘I promise I’ll be there.’
But I wanted this. I wanted this distraction.Neededthis distraction. Probably more than I’d needed anything in my life. I didn’t have the energy or the emotional capacity to deal with what happened to me at the end of last year. And I wasn’t sure I ever would. And more than that, I needed to push all thoughts of Thallor from my mind. All I wanted to do was convince myself that the dynamic between us was as it always has been. I needed to convince myself that I was capable of swallowing down the emotions that reared up every time he looked at me.
“I’ll be okay,” I said a little too quickly. The smile I forced onto my lips was one I used when I was trying not to acknowledge the void I felt inside.
“Just be careful.Please.”
It was thepleasethat almost undid me. It was thepleasethat had me faltering where I stood, pulled one way by my own heartstrings and another by logic and sense. It was thepleasethatplunged deep into my chest, unearthing every feeling I worked to keep hiding. It was thepleasethat left nothing untouched. Thallor’s words coiled around me and assailed the stone tower entwined with vines of barbed thorns that I’d build around my heart.
With all the feelings that began to pour out of me into the silence that stretched between us, all I could think to do was run.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Iwas partially grateful that I could not hear my own thoughts over the sound of music that blared from the speakers. The heavy base continued to vibrate through me as not one, but three people bumped into me in the space of the five minutes I’d been standing at the bar.
I felt like I stepped in superglue. My feet were plastered to the floor, stuck in a myriad of splotches and wet patches that littered the floor like an infuriatingJackson Pollock.I’d resorted to standing unbelievably still to avoid stumbling over because I considered any type of heeled shoe–including the ones I was wearing–to be a modern-day torture trap moonlighting under the wordfashion.I’d expected to be sitting down for most of the night, which is why I’d worn the stupid boots in the first place. And given the lack of lighting in the bar, whatever they were meant to be doing for my legs and ass was likely going unnoticed anyway.
Much like the floor, the seat next to me was spattered with a suspicious white liquid, one that could be found in any number of socks in a college frat house. While Jude had rattled offsomething about his father’s finances, my mind had been furiously calculating whether someone’d had one too many piña coladas or whether they were having a much better time than I currently was.
“I wish you had told me we were going to a bar instead,” I yelled over the sound of Pitbull’sGasolinaas Jude took a sip of his single malt whiskey. He’d ordered it neat, meaning no ice and no citrus garnish. I still had PTSD from the night I had to make far too many whiskey-based drinks only to find out the guy hadn’t even wanted whiskey in the first place. I still couldn’t look at orange rind without feeling inexplicable rage.
By the look on Jude’s face, I don’t think he was enjoying his liquor choice much either. He was on his second whiskey of the night, and whilst I would never judge someone for their drinking choices, I had to question his sanity as he grimaced whilst taking another sip.
Jude smiled at a pretty blonde girl as she ambled past us with a few friends, bobbing his head to the music. “Don’t worry, what you are wearing is fine for this bar.”
Gee, thanks. Not why I wanted you to tell me.Because if he had, I would have almost definitely declined. Which probably would have suited Jude just fine, given that his attention seemed to be elsewhere. More specifically, on thefivegirls who had caught his attention while we were standing there. It’s clear he had a type. A type that I was decidedlynot.They were all unbelievably attractive, tall with high cheekbones. They had Pilates sculpted bodies and likely a series ofMyFitnessPalentries that consisted of green juice and kale salads. Even though I was relatively active, I hadn’t bothered to download the app. Because there was nothing as sobering as entering a bowl ofFroot Loopsor gummy worms for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
But the longer his gaze seemed to linger anywhere but on me, the faster my self-esteem seemed to wither away until it wassimply another marred puddle on the light-up bar floor. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but I had stumbled directly into the plot of a Robert Louis Stevenson novel. I had signed up to go on a date with Jude Watlings, not Mr Hyde. And for a long moment, whilst Jude stared aimlessly at the tits of yet another woman, I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the Jude from my course and who this imposter was that I was sitting with.
He had the same brown hair that framed his face well. He wore the same cheeky smile I’d seen on our last date and countless hours of study sessions–one he had flashed at a number of girls who had been in the unfortunate position to be on the receiving end of his attention. He even wore the same round glasses that were migrating, at light speed, into ick territory.
I guess there had been signs–character traits I chose to ignore because they were wrapped in the charming façade he wore so well. Countless study sessions and lectures had left me unguarded and distracted. He had presented himself as a beautiful bouquet of red roses, the colour unnoticeable due to my own rose-tinted goggles. And now I’d taken them off, all that seemed to remain were thorn-covered stems that prickled at my self-worth.
“Are you sure you don’t want an alcoholic drink?” Jude leaned in, putting a hand on the bar behind me.
“Oh, no thanks.” I lifted my glass of water in mock cheers. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
Especially when I hadn’t eaten (I’d flushed the promise of dinner with any lingering attraction I had of Jude down the toilet). And even more so because I wasn’t a fan of places like this. I didn’t shun or judge people that did, for the most part, I could understand and appreciate the appeal, I’d even been to a few myself when I’d first started university because that was what everyonedid.
But I’d learn quickly that places like this left me feeling anxious and overwhelmed. Drunk people were messy and obnoxious. Nightclubs were loud and expensive. And the idea of being hypnotised by strobe lighting and jarring music into handing over the little money I had for watered-down booze, all in the name of ‘having a good time’,didn’t seem like a good one to me. Because nothing really screamed fun like being charged eighteen dollars for a lukewarm gin & tonic whilst another drunk idiot groped you.
“I guess I shouldn’t have brought you to a bar then.” He laughed as he attempted to swallow down another sip of hisGlenfiddich.
You took the words from right out of my mouth.I let out a nervous breath as I took another sip of water. “Yeah, I guess not.”
“Let’s go find somewhere quieter,” he yelled before ordering another glass of whiskey. Jude downed his current drink as if trying to convince himself that he liked it before grabbing the drink the bartender had just poured in one hand and mine in the other and pulling me toward a dimly lit table in the corner of the bar. My phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked down at my notifications and bit my lip.
Spawn of Satan: Are you bored of that asshole yet?
Spawn of Satan: Can I tempt you back with gummy worms?
