Six
BLAIRE
Ialways knew I was bound to tumble at some point in my life. You never truly leave the depths of the ocean with breezeblocks still tied to your ankles.
I knew it even as I scrubbed under my nails at night, washing away the grime from the day, as if doing so would cleanse my soul.
I knew it as I avoided people likehim.
I’d button up my white shirt, and I’d pull my hair into a tidy bun, and I’d see it out of the corner of my eye. My downfall had always been waiting for me, for the smallest crack in my defenses to wiggle through.
I guess I never expected it to happen this way, headed back to a café to meet with a boy I couldn’t stop thinking about, to purchasedrugs,of all things.
Half of me was absolutely terrified, wondering where the hell my brain had disappeared to. The other half couldn’t help but embrace the thrill running through my body.
I was going to see him again.
As much as I wanted to deny it, something deep in my core, in the very makeup of my bones, called out to him. It was a strange feeling, really. I had spent so much time holding myselfat arm’s length from people, the sensation of wanting to be close to someone disrupted my stability.
My plan to get my life back on track would have to wait. After all, I couldn’t do much without getting rid of this nightmare haunting my sleep. My eyelids were weighted, begging to close. My bun wasn’t as tight as it usually was, and hairs kept escaping, tickling the back of my neck. Without looking, I knew my exhaustion would be scrawled across my face, despite my mask of carefully applied makeup. But my walk to the café was sure, confident even.
I’d step inside and order my coffee, no different than usual. Caffeine in hand, I’d walk over to wherehestood, and meet his gaze with a knowing look. He’d slip me the tiny baggie filled with something that would knock me out, and I’d slide him back the cash that felt like a brick inside my pocket.
There were a few plot holes in my plan, sure. Not to mention, I was completely ignoring the fact I would be late for work the day after I told Harry I was smartening up. I had priorities, and priority number one was sleep.
The café was just up ahead, growing busy in the early morning bustle.
Tugging on a loose strand of hair, I shrugged my purse higher up on my shoulder. This was it. Deep breath, open the door, and step inside. Easy.
Breathe in…
Stumbling backward, I caught myself on my heel before I tumbled over altogether.Blood. There had been so much blood.
Blinking, I pinched the flesh on my wrist—hard—trying to center myself. The smell of coffee, thick and homey. The rush of the traffic on the street, and the wind whipping through my hair. These were real. Tangible.Here.
It was only a dream.
It was only afucking dream.
If I wasn’t in the middle of a busy sidewalk, and certain I’d be institutionalized, I would’ve screamed. Instead, I opened my eyes. I straightened my shoulders. And I walked into the café like I knew exactly what I was doing.
I ignored the anxiety clawing at me as I walked up to the register, placing my order over the blood roaring in my ears. Refusing to look around, and not wanting to seem too eager, I kept my focus on the detailed menu board behind the counter. My skin didn’t feel on fire like it had last time. I didn’t have the peculiar sensation of being watched. That didn’t mean anything, though. His attention could have just been focused elsewhere.
“Blaire.”
At the sound of my name, I looked up to see the young barista who served me the other day. She offered me the white paper cup, and I inhaled the rich aroma. Finally, I allowed myself to turn, taking in the patrons around the room while I sipped my drink. I hoped I looked more casual than I felt.
There was an older couple enjoying each other’s company at a smaller table. The usual collection of university kids sat around with their laptops. As my gaze completed a full lap around the café, disappointment sank through my chest.
No one looked out of place today. No dangerous beauty lurked in the corner.
He wasn’t there.
Fuck. I couldn’t tell if I was more disappointed I didn’t get to see him, or if my plan wasn’t going to work. I’d been so consumed with my plan, I didn’t even consider the possibility that hewouldn’tbe here.
“Everything okay?” The barista’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She cocked her head, wiping her hands on her apron. “If something is wrong with your coffee, I can make you a new one.”
“Oh, uh, no. Sorry.” I smiled and took another sip, as if to prove the coffee was perfect, even though it felt like ash in my mouth. I was back to square one. “I was just supposed to meet someone, and they aren’t here.”
