I mull over her words and have to acknowledge that she’s right. I need to reclaim my life and not let him hold me back any further.
“Okay,” I begrudgingly agree. Pulling back from her embrace, I hold up a finger in warning. “I’ll come out with you at the weekend, but it’s a casual thing.”
“Casual, of course! Oh, Hol, we’re going to have such a good time!”
Why didI ever think this was going to be a good idea?
Music pulses through the club, the bass so loud that it vibrates in my ears, the words of the song drowned out by the shouting of the patrons. The dancefloor is writhing with bodies and I hover at the edge, shuffling from foot to foot and doing my finest T-Rex impression with my arms close to my chest.
Ashley is having the time of her life, her body moving to the music in ways I didn’t think possible. When did she get so flexible? The effort to keep the smile on my face is getting harder, but I force myself to keep it there. Ashley looks so happy and the look on her face when I’d agreed to come tonight makes all of this worth it.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
She’s trying so hard to make this a fun experience for me and I feel awful that I’m not enjoying this. When I went over to her apartment to get ready with her, it felt like I was a teenager all over again, trying on outfits for each other.
My cute white top with smart jeans had quickly been vetoed and I was dragged into her closet for a makeover. Ashley is tall and slim like a model and the little black dress she’s wearing clings to her figure like a second skin. The cap sleeves and sweetheart neckline show off her perky breasts in a way I could never get away with. Cinching in her waist, the dress then flares over her hips, glimmering slightly in the blue and purple lights of the club.
Finding something of hers that would fit my shorter, curvier frame was always going to be difficult. Finally, it had been decided that I would wear a silver sequined playsuit. It ends midthigh, which on Ash would be showing a lot more skin but works perfectly for me. The V-neck just about covers my large boobs with a bit of creative placement – thank God for safety pins – and a belt around the middle pulls it in to show off my hourglass figure. Sleeves billow around my arms, cinching in around my wrists with a cuff.
Honestly, when I’d looked at myself in the mirror, it was like I was seeing someone else, and even I had to admit that I looked good. However, now we’re out in public and surrounded by strangers, I find myself pulling at the playsuit, wishing for more coverage. It feels like everyone is watching me, although I’m sure they’re not.
However, as I shuffle about, the feeling doesn’t go away. Following my hunch, I glance over my shoulder and I see that I was right: someoneiswatching me. He’s gorgeous in a dark, damaged way.
He wears jeans and a dark band T-shirt, although I can’t quite make out which band from here. I don’t understand how guys can look so good in something so simple. Throw on a T-shirt and have girls drooling over you, whereas it took mehoursto get to the point where I was presentable. I had pastry in my hair for soufflé’s sake! I feel even more self-conscious in my jumpsuit now, as though I’ve spent far too much time on my appearance. Not to mention his laser focus on me, so obviously checking me out.
Why did I bother to go through all this effort when I’m not here for anything but to support Ashley? Subconsciously, was I trying to make myself feel good by dressing up? Probably. It reminded me of the old Holly, before my relationship with Jason had become so controlling. I amnothere for love, flirting or anything in-between. However, I can’t deny that a part of me finds the attention flattering. Sometimes I think that the old me is still buried somewhere deep down within, peaking through the wreckage Jake left behind. She would have loved this, would have glowed under the admiration of someone like him.
Now, though, I’m just tired and uncomfortable. It has been a busy day at the bakery and my body is aching from tottering around in Ashley’s ridiculous shoes. Whoever invented high heels obviously never had to wear them.
While I’m not here for anything other than support, there’s no harm in appreciating what’s in front of me, especially when he started it. There is absolutely no denying that he’s gorgeous. In fact, a warmth starts to build low down in my stomach as our eyes lock. It’s a feeling I’ve not experienced in a long time.
He’s just a little taller than me, and I can tell from the way he fits his shirt that he’s muscular. His arms are covered in tattoos; I’m assuming that they continue onto his chest as I can see some winding up the side of his neck. It makes me curious as to what’s under that fabric. I lift my gaze to his face. A smirk greets me– he knows that I’ve been checking him out. My cheeks burn a little, but I refuse to back down. He started this, I’m just returning the gesture.
Holy moly he’s handsome. Stubble covers his sharp jaw, his dirty blond hair short on the sides and long on the top, styled to the side. It’s the type of haircut that looks deceptively low maintenance, but likely takes a lot more effort than he would ever admit. Leaning against a wall, his arms are crossed over his chest as he watches me, a figure of stillness amongst a sea of moving bodies. Maybe that’s why I can’t take my eyes off him? Yes, that’s what it is, he stands out because of his lack of movement, definitely not because he’s gorgeous and watching me as though I’m a snack he can’t wait to devour.
He pushes away from the wall, his eyes locked on me, and starts to walk over. Time seems to slow, each of his steps smooth and purposeful, his body moving like a predator honing in on his prey.
Oh, shit. He’s coming over here. It’s one thing to watch him from afar, and another completely to actually interact with him. I have no idea how to be around guys anymore, especially ones who look likehim. My heart pounds in my chest like a jackhammer, adrenaline pulsing through me as I try to decide what to do. As far as I see it, I have two options: stay and talk to the mystery bad boy, or flee.
I choose the latter.
“I’m going to get a drink,” I shout over at Ashley, miming lifting a glass as the music swallows my voice. She makes moves to untangle herself from the man she’s dancing with, but I hold up my hand, indicating that I’ll be fine on my own. The look she gives me makes it clear that she’s not sure if she should believe me or not, but I force a smile on my face and turn away. It’s probably a good thing that she can’t hear me, as she would’ve heard the panic in my voice and insisted she come with me.With a final glance over my shoulder at the handsome stranger, I see he’s working his way around a group of people, annoyance making his face seem harsh in the dim pulsing light.
Turning away, I hurry from the dancefloor, my body hot and uncomfortable. The queue for the bar is huge and the last thing I want to do is stand amongst a group of sweaty strangers. I feel like I’m burning up. I shouldn’t be here. This was a bad idea. I’m not ready for this yet, and I might never be ready for this. The person I used to be doesn’t exist anymore, and the future that I once imagined for myself is gone. My greatest trial at the moment is simply existing, so expecting myself to cope in a nightclub surrounded by people was never going to work.
No, I need to get out, go somewhere quiet.
Scanning the club, I see a sign for the restrooms and hurry towards them, trying not to stumble in my borrowed heels. Weaving around groups of people, I manage to slip into the bathroom without freaking out. Thankfully there isn’t a queue and I get into a cubical straight away. Shutting the door behind me and closing the lid of the toilet, I sit down and drop my head in my hands.
I’m not ready for this. The damage that Jake did to me destroyed the person I was, but the cracks were already there; all his betrayal did was break something that was already broken. My insecurities were laid out bare, as you do in a relationship. He knew everything about me, and when he left, he threw them all back in my face. I’m barely able to go to work, why did I think that leaving town and going to a nightclub was going to magically fix me?
Talking several slow, deep breaths, I sit up only to lean against the bathroom stall, the plastic cold against my face, helping to cool me down. Thankfully, as my temperature lowers, my thoughts settle and I’m able to think more rationally. This trip was perhaps premature, however, I’m out now so I shouldtry to make the most of the evening. If nothing else, it’s time that I get to spend with my best friend, something we’ve not been able to do in years.
Ashley’s going to wonder where I am if I don’t join her soon. Knowing her, before long she’ll send out a search party to find me.
Straightening my clothes, I exit the stall, wash my hands and splash some water on my face, and make my way back out to the club. It’s manic out here. Pausing at the edge of the dancefloor, I look around for Ashley in the sea of people. They seem to move as one, their bodies swaying and jiving in time to the music, seeming more like one solid organism instead of hundreds of individual people.
Glancing at the bar, I search for Ashley, but I still can’t see her. Already I can feel the uncomfortable feelings rising again. A cold breeze brushes my cheek and I glance to my left to see a door leading outside. The smokers’ door.