The bar is buzzing tonight, full of spring breakers, and an overflow of people spills out onto the sidewalk, smoking cigarettes and chatting drunkenly. We head inside. Most of the girls go straight to order drinks. Carl and Tina go to the bathroom, and I hang back, trying to spot Sam - hoping to have the opportunity to apologize outside of the group setting. I stand just inside the door, scanning the crowd.
Some guy bumps into me and I recoil from the stranger's accidental touch, taking two steps back. He begins to apologize, before conspicuously checking me out. I hold my breath. I know that look - he's about to make some suggestive comment, or hit on me in some juvenile way - so I turn away from him, my body language unmistakable.
Back.Off.
Fortunately, he does, muttering something under his breath I can't quite make out, but I don't care.
Just then, my eyes latch onto Sam. It's just the back of his head I can see over the top of the crowd - thanks to his six plus feet of stature - but I know it's him. I'd know those messy locks anywhere.
I prepare to brave my way through the crowd, a significant endeavor for me - one full of strangers and more potential accidental touches - and in this moment I'm grateful I took a pill earlier. But after just two steps, Sam turns, barely sideways, so I can just make out his profile, but I can see his dimple with utter clarity, indicating his gorgeous smile.I guess he isn't too upset about our earlier row after all.The realization hurts. It's not as if I expected him to be drowning in sorrow, but seeing his wide smile only reminds me that I'm the one with the oversized feelings, not him.
This isn't news,I remind myself.
But then there's a small break in the crowd, and I see where his smile is directed. I'm assaulted with the image of the pretty redhead he has his arm around. I watch as they exchange words, and her resulting smile.
My insides twist, sickness rolling through my gut.
God, I'm pathetic. Here I am, over analyzing every part of our argument, and Sam has already forgotten it ever even occurred. In fact, it would appear he's already seeking out alternative company for tonight. The knowledge hits me like a brutal punch to the stomach, my heart fracturing viciously.
I turn around and push through the faceless bodies, back through the exit as tears prick my eyes.
Was this afternoon always supposed to be a one-time thing? Or is he just moving on because of our argument about Cam?
Maybe that's how this whole thing is supposed to work - that we hook up with each other, but we can also hook up with whoever else we want.
Of coursehe's allowed to hook up with whoever he wants, whywouldn'the be? I have no claim on Sam, no matter how fiercely my heart wishes otherwise. If only the stupid organ could be as practical as my brain, but it seems that my heart and mind have a severely defective connection - faulty wiring - and they just can't seem to get on the same page.
The torrential ache in my chest just grows more and more potent with every step I take away from Sam and his pretty new companion. I cross the street to get away from the drunken partiers lingering outside of the bar, grateful that the other side of the street is more quiet. I swipe at my cheeks angrily, furious at myself for being unable to stifle my pathetic tears. I just want to order ice cream from room service and cry in private.
I reach the quiet side of the street and start in the direction of our hotel.
"Well hi there, Sleepin' Beauty."
My breath catches in my throat and my heart stops beating. I freeze.
That voice. Those words.
It can't be.
I close my eyes and take a wheezing breath, wondering if it's finally happened - if I've completely lost my mind - because truthfully, that would be preferable to the alternative. But when my eyes open again, he steps out of the shadows.
Robin.
My brain tells my legs to run, tells my vocal chords to scream, but Ican't. I can do nothing but stand here and stare in frozen dread.
"I missed you real bad, sweetheart," Robin drawls, taking the few steps that separate us.
I open my mouth and choke in air. But it doesn't fill my lungs. My heart races instead of my legs.
Robin takes two more steps toward me and I retreat until my back hits the brick facade of a closed storefront. I want to scream. I want to run. At the very least, I want to fucking form words! To ask him how the hell he knew I was in Miami, to ask him what he's going to do to me, to beg him to leave me alone. He's violating his restraining order! Doesn't he know that? He could be arrested! Heshouldbe arrested!
But I say none of those things, I simply stare at him in terror, my eyes clouded with tears, unblinking and mouth agape. My lungs burn with the need to take a deep breath, but I can't inhale past the dread lodged in my throat. Robin dips his head and I turn my face away and clench my eyes shut.
"IsaidI missed you real bad,sweetheart," he repeats, his voice oozing with disapproval at my reaction to his presence.
What the hell was he expecting? For me to jump willingly into his arms?
His lips make contact with my cheek, and I cringe, but he just steps forward again until he's right up against me.
