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“I thought we had it. You know? She appeared so eager when we spoke.”
“I thought so, too.” Sandy’s disappointed expression mirrors mine. “What’s going on, Elvis? I know this is disappointing, but it’s almost like you’ve been stabbed in the heart.”
I fall back onto the seat, throwing my head into my hands. No matter what I do, I fail. Everywhere I turn reminds me of that. I can’t escape it, crippled by the manic panicking going on inside my head.
I decided to take this break from Haden, but all I can think about is him. His broken face torturing me over and over again, a horror movie replaying in my mind. Nothing in my life makes sense. I know I have lost control, but terrified, I have no clue where to start.
“I just want this. I need something that’s all mine. I didn’t tell you, but when I left, Haden and I were…” I choke on my words, struggling to hold back my emotions. “I told him I needed space.”
“Space as in a few days to yourself?”
“No… space as to think about us.”
The second it leaves my mouth the reality comes crashing down like a loose pile of bricks. A lonesome tear escapes my glassy eyes causing Sandy to scan the area around us before making a drastic move. So what if the people in the restaurant judge me? I felt so far from home and amongst strangers who will never see me again anyway.
“Okay, no crying here. Let’s get you drunk and having a good time.”
“I can’t do that… it’s exactly what Haden doesn’t want me to do…”
Sandy swats the air, dismissing my mention of Haden.
“I’m here now, and I refuse to see you this way. You’re all mine tonight, and that’s that.”
I grab my phone and turn off my tracking.
For tonight, I need an escape without Haden tracing my every move.
The city is loud, alive, and buzzing for a Thursday night. I’ve drunk a number of shots, danced with some drag queen who looks like Cher’s doppelganger, and Sandy is rigorous with her need to make me forget about life back home.
We’ve danced the macarena with a bunch of European tourists, got bored, then moved to another bar the next block over.
I struggle to compose myself, pushing away the drinks Sandy demands I drink.
I notice the sign on the wall, and all of a sudden, a wave of nostalgia strikes me.
This is where I first screwed Haden.
The night we conceived Masen.
“What’s wrong, Elvis?” Sandy yells through the music. “Come… have another shot.”
I shake my head, allowing the movie reel inside my drunken mind to replay the moment we argued on this very dance floor. The way his stare burned into me, fueled by jealousy as another man tried to hit on me. Dragging me outside, our lips crashing against each other, driven by hate and a need to release the tension which crawled under our skins.
I wanted to hate him so much.
“You’re such a fucking tease, Malone. You know that?”
“I don’t tease, you’re just greedy and can’t help yourself.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he tells me, running his teeth along my lobe.
I can’t even hold a conversation here, not when his hands move into my dress and are squeezing my breasts in a desperate plea. His constant rub against my nipples is driving me insane, and I am this close to stripping in the cool night air, so he can suck on them like the hungry beast he is.
“Relax, I’ll make you forget he ever existed.”
And with that, he enters me as I fight for air. His entire cock is buried inside, leaving me breathless as my body adjusts to his size. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensations rather than making eye contact with him. A part of me knows I will regret this once I’m sober.
Something feels different—odd, yet arousing. He takes his time, easing in and out,
