"Xavier." Isaac stopped, turning to face me with an expression that was almost serious. "You've been weird forweeks. I'm worried about you. Just come out, have a drink, remember what it feels like to be young and irresponsible."
I wanted to say no. Wanted to stay home and stare at my ceiling and think about Kim's smile some more.
But Isaac was right. I had been weird. And maybe getting out of my head for a few hours would help.
"Fine," I said. "One hour."
"That's my boy."
The club was exactly what I’d expected. Loud music, flashing lights, beautiful people in expensive clothes pretending to have the time of their lives.
A few months ago, this would have been my natural habitat. I would have worked the room, charmed the bartenders, left with someone whose name I'd forget by morning.
Now I stood by the bar, nursing a drink I didn't want, checking my phone every thirty seconds.
"You're staring at that thing like it owes you money," Isaac observed. He'd appeared at my elbow, two shots in hand. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. Waiting for an email."
"At eleven o'clock at night?"
"It's an important email."
Isaac handed me one of the shots. I took it but didn't drink. He studied me for a long moment, something sparking behind his eyes.
"What's her name?"
"What?"
"The girl." He smirked. "There's always a girl when you get like this. So who is it? Mia? Did she finally get under your skin?"
"No. It's not Mia."
"Then who?" His smirk widened. "Wait. Don't tell me." He leaned closer, voice dropping. "Is this about the fake girlfriend?"
My jaw tightened.
"It is." Isaac laughed, delighted. "Oh, this is perfect. Xavier Dubois, falling for his own con. Are you actually?—"
"No." I cut him off. "I'm not falling for anyone."
"Sure." He was still grinning.
"Isaac—"
"Come on, man. I know what you look like when you're into someone." He clapped me on the shoulder. "And you, my friend, are in deep."
I didn't respond. I couldn't respond, because the frustration building in my chest was too big for words. Frustration at Isaac for seeing too much. At myself for being so obvious. At the whole situation, which had spiraled so far beyond my control that I didn't know how to get it back.
"I'm leaving," I said.
"What? We just got here."
"I know." I set down my untouched shot. "I'll call you tomorrow."
I pushed through the crowd and out into the cold night air. The silence was a relief after the pounding music. I stood on the sidewalk, breathing deep, trying to clear my head.
It didn't work.
