His guy friends look between him and me, and their grins turn into wide grins before full on laughter. One guy shoves Zay's shoulder and says something I can’t make out.
Now, the only emotion I feel is stupidity.
Stupidity again for thinking he was cheating. He’s out with his guy friends and I’m standing here trying to catch him in the act. But what act?
I turn and speed walk as fast as I can. I don’t even hear the door shut behind me because I’m walking faster than I have ever walked to get back to my car. I would run, but I don’t want to make it look like I’m being chased.
“Violet.”
My name erupts into my ear. Loud and angry.
I look over my shoulder and see Zayn jogging toward me with a scowl on his face. I stop, turn all the way to face him. My body trembles from my nervousness, worse than it has all night. He gets closer and I see his forehead has the deepest line that I don’t remember him having before.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
My mouth drops open.
My heart races faster. His tone of voice and the way he speaks to me now still catch me off guard. I thought he was angry before, but this sounds worse.
“Don’t talk to me like that?” I say sternly.
No matter what is going on, I should never be talked to like that. He’s the one making me feel this gut feeling, and yet he wants to talk to me like that. He’s the one who has blown up on me time and time again, and I’ve sat back and listened and tried to understand him. What has he done for me when I tell him what I’m feeling?
Nothing.
His chest rises and falls in anger. “What are you doing here? Are you seriously trying to piss me off and embarrass me in front of my friends?”
Tears rim my eyes as I stare back at this man who once loved me. I don’t feel that love from him anymore. I don’t know what hurts most, knowing he doesn’t love me or thinking he’s cheating.
“I just…” I say, pausing for a moment to swallow the lump in my throat. “I swore you were going to be with someone.”
His head falls back. “Jesus Christ. This fucking shit again.”
“Yes, this shit again.”
“Did the perfume not prove anything to you?”
“Fuck the perfume. There is more that is going on with you other than the smell of my perfume.” My hands are clammy, not helping the trembles running through my body.
“You’re fucking crazy. You know that?” he says, turning his back to me.
“I said. Do. Not. Talk. To. Me. Like. That.” I pause, cross my arms. “I’m not crazy. I know what I feel.”
He pivots back around, his face reddened by his anger. “Do you have any proof?”
Silence fills the air.
“Exactly. You don’t. So stop accusing me of something that I’m not doing.”
I step up closer to him. “Then what have you been doing on the weekends?”
He throws his arms up toward the bar. “This.”
“Bars close at two and you don’t come home until the sun is up.” I tighten my arms around my chest harder to stop myself from shaking.
“I didn’t know I was on a curfew,” he says in a sarcastic tone, his shoulders shrugging and his head shaking.
“See, you don’t answer the question,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
