“No,” I say coldly without looking up.
“Come on.” She sways closer. “Take another look.”
I step back as if I need the space for a better view, breaking my gaze from her as I open the beer bottle in my hand and wipe it dry before passing it along, my skin itching the entire time.
There’s something painfully uncomfortable about being in the presence of someone you’ve slept with that you wish you didn’t. It’s regret mixed with nauseating guilt and shame, every glance a reminder of the mistake your body made before your mind could catch up. It’s enough to make you want to scrub yourself raw, to boil your skin and start over as a new version of yourself.
Unfortunately, we don’t get to take back our mistakes. We just have to live with them. Like gnawing ghosts that reside in the corner of our minds.
“What can I get you?” I ask, trying to move the conversation along. If she’s wounded by my avoidance, she doesn’t show it.
“I’ll take a white Russian, and a shot of Jameson.”
I nod in acknowledgment of her request, grabbing the glasses I’ll need and setting them before her.
She leans in, her cleavage spilling out onto the bar. I focus on my own hands and make sure not to notice. “It’s the same thing I had the night we hooked up. Maybe it’s my lucky charm.”
My stern gaze finds hers in an effort to quietly shut her down, but I know well enough that Macey never takes the first no for an answer. Or any of the ones after that.
As promised, when my shift ends, I go to join Brian, Nate, and the others on the other side of the bar. When I notice they’re huddled with a group of girls, Macey being one of them, I immediately try to backtrack. Nate spots me before I get a chance.
“Finally!” he yells, passing me a beer. “The caveman has exited the safety of his confines.” I give him a guarded grin in response. “Cheers, Jakey Cakes!”
Brian laughs with him as they tap their bottles to mine. I suck half of my beer down in an instant.
Brian starts talking about some big merger his branch is overseeing at Stratford, and I try to stay interested, but my brain starts to zone out, thoughts of Alana flooding my mind. Wishing she were here. Hating and loving the way my bodyknowsher absence. The way my eyes search for hers and my ears wait to hear her laugh.
The way I’m so royally fucked when it comes to her.
I peer around the group as I finish my first beer and reach for a second. Everyone in the circle is glassy-eyed and buzzed, laughing loudly over the music and enjoying their night without a care in the world.
When my eyes land on Macey, she drags her gaze over my body, like a tigress awaiting its perfect moment to pounce. It makes my skin crawl.
I move around the table and out of her view. When a tray of shots arrives, I down two quickly. Maybe if I can catch a buzz, being here won’t feel like scratching my eyes out with a dull knife.
Even though I know Alana won’t set foot in here tonight, or likely ever again, I keep checking for the door, hoping she’ll be the next one to walk through it. I know she would be here if things were good between us. I hate that they’re not, and I hate that I don’t have a single clue of how to make them right again. I hate that I let the one good thing I had going in my life slip away before I even had a grasp on it.
“Here, man.”
I turn to Brian, who’s passing me another shot of tequila. I nod a thank you and hold my glass up with the rest of the group before I toss its contents down my throat and slam my glass on the table.
I chase the shot with another beer and keep the pattern going until the faces in front of me start to blur together. Like a perfect medicine, the gnawing anxiousness begins to subside, it's magic melting my thoughts and feelings into warm, languid puddles. I grab a lime off the plate at the center of the table, holding it between my teeth while I suck the juices out to compliment the shot, finally relaxing for the first time in hours. In days. In fuckingweeks.
I drunkenly sway in place, letting the calm settle into my veins.
In the next second, I’m being spun around, the alcohol in my stomach swirling as the world unfocuses completely. Warm lips meet mine, a tongue sweeping into my mouth and stealing the lime from my lips.
My eyes close instinctively, and my lips fall into the familiar motion of a kiss. But everything about it feels wrong. Thewrong lips. The wrong tongue. My hands come forward, taking whoever it is by the shoulder and pulling them off me.
Macey smiles at me, her red nails coming up to grab the lime wedge from her lips.
Rage boils over inside me. “What thefuck, Macey!”
“What?” She shrugs with a devilish smirk. “That was the last lime.” Her sultry smile churns in my stomach, and I wipe at my lips with the tips of my fingers. My whole face twists in disapproval.
I grunt angrily as I turn to make my way to the bar. My steps are cut short, and a sharp coldness runs down my spine. Frosted blue eyes stare back at me in shock.
“Alana,” I breathe, but she’s already turning back into the crowd, swimming through the sea of people on the parquet dance floor. I try to follow her, but it’s hard to make her out through the blurred faces that pass me by.
