Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Me: I’ll be waiting. :)
I add a smiley face for the sake of keeping it light, when what I really want to add is how eager I was to meet up with them once I arrived. Only my certainty that she’d call me paranoid and laugh it off keeps me from mentioning the eerie feeling I had on the way here. Like somebody was following me, watching me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I’m safe now, surrounded by people. There’s nobody watching me. If I attract attention, it’s because I’m a girl sitting alone in a club. That I can handle.
Breathe in, breathe out. You’re being paranoid.
It’s fairly quiet in the bar right now. A few customers are seated at the sleek bar, and a handful at tables dotting the perimeter of the wide dance floor. The balcony surrounding the room on three sides is also sparsely filled at the moment. Things won’t pick up for another hour, at least, which is why I wanted to get here early. With Tatum leaving on her trip to France in two days, I thought it would be nice to catch up and actually hear each other speak before the voices and music could drown us out.
At this rate, she’ll never get here. Then I won’t see her for another month. I frown and stare down into the glass of wine.
“What’s with the long face?”
The question drags my attention from the troubled thoughts I can’t help but entertain. It’s not my unseen and probably nonexistent stalker trying to chat me up, but instead, the bartender. He’s cute in a typical way, with deep-set dark eyes and a winning smile that brings the dimples out in his cheeks.
“My best friend’s going to the south of France for a month, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.” I lift a shoulder when he winces. “Yes, I know life could be worse but…”
“It’s a bummer, yeah,” he observes while stacking glasses in an impressive arrangement.
“Yeah, it is. I’m going to have all this free time and nothing to do with it.”
Lucas, like always, is busy and couldn’t join us tonight. That won’t change with Tatum’s absence. It often feels like I live alone, but the dirty laundry he leaves lying around the bedroom is an ever-present reminder of his existence.
The bartender props his elbows up on the bar, his brows lifting. My gaze is drawn to his biceps, which his T-shirt’s tight, short sleeves show off to perfection. “If you’re bored, they’re always looking for help around the club.”
“Oh, really?” I retort.
“Yes, I could use a hand back here.” His grin shifts into flirting territory, and he winks at me. “You’d be a perfect fit.”
I can’t help the warm flush that spreads through my stomach, even if I’m not single and shouldn’t encourage flirting with some random guy I’ve never met. I don’t know why his arms draw my attention like they do, either. Actually, I do. I wonder if that’s why I spied on Callum a few nights ago, because I’m feeling neglected and lonely?
“I’d have to check with my boyfriend,” I murmur, and his slight nod tells me the message was received before he moves on to attend to a new customer taking a seat a few stools down.
Tatum would threaten to smack me upside the head if she were here and had witnessed me turning down a cute guy. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be with somebody for so long. To invest so much time and energy into a relationship. I don’t want to think that time was all for nothing. Besides, relationships take patience. They have their highs and lows. They take work and effort from both parties.
Who am I trying to convince?
A deep sense of dissatisfaction washes over me, and I toss back the rest of the wine. I hope this isn’t what life’s going to look like in the future. Me convincing myself I’m safe and secure and should settle for what I know rather than… What? Leaving Lucas. Or quitting my job before I’ve started it. There are no alternatives.
I’ve never been the girl that takes chances. I want to be. I wish I could be. But it’s not in my nature, I guess. Plus, I’ve had a lifetime of being reminded how uncertain the world is. How things can change on a dime, and how important it is to be prepared for whatever’s coming. Thanks, Dad.
It isn’t irritation with him that begins simmering low in my belly—he’s only ever done his best, especially after Mom died. No, it’s an irritation with me. What am I really afraid of? It’s not until my jaw aches that I realize I’m clenching it. My heart speeds up at the memory of what I did the other night.