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I don't want them to think I'm weak.
“Oh,” I say, not sure how else to respond.
It’s obvious I’m not needed, and every second I sit in the place that just crushed the last of my dreams makes my skin crawl. However, it’s hard walking away from something I’d invested so much hope in.
This was supposed to be my ticket to a better future, the job that kicked off my new life. I’d been so confident I’d get hired, but now, I don’t even stand a chance.
Pain resounds in my chest, and I clear my throat to prevent my voice from cracking.
“Thanks for checking.”
She smiles and heads back to her desk, and I mask my disappointment the best I can as I make my way outside. Numbness crawls up my limbs, making them heavy, and the corners of my eyes burn as I step out into the warm summer air.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
Mind whirling and fighting the urge to cry, I follow the sidewalk away from the office, frantically trying to come up with another plan.
No interview.
No job.
No money.
Nowhere to go.
The no-s are mounting, crushing me, making the yeses feel even more impossible and farther away than ever.
I sigh, my breath shaking a little. I’ve hit a dead end in the middle of a maze, and no matter which path I take, it’ll just end with another barricade.
What I need right now is a drink. Something strong. Something to soothe my hurt feelings and help me relax for a little while.
It’s been months since I last drank, and for good reason. Last time, I got so shitty that I passed out drunk in the yard trying to run away from my pack. I woke up with scratches and bruises decorating my body with no recollection of how they got there.
I try not to think about it, even though I have a good idea where they came from. The truth is too painful, too embarrassing.
After that, I decided not to drink anymore because I wanted to remember everything; no blacking out, no holes in my memory.
If my exes did anything to me, I wanted to have proof.
But they're gone now. I’m not hiding from them anymore.
I shouldn’t be afraid to sit down at a bar and lose myself in a dark glass of comfort. I might not have much money left, but one drink isn’t going to make things worse than they already are.
Putting more distance between myself and the job that will never happen, I keep walking and make a right onto a side street. A glowing neon sign catches my eye to the right. It readsSAL’S ITALIANO,and in smaller, neon green letters:restaurant and bar.
A smirk lifts the corner of my mouth at the convenience.Think of it and it shall appear… or whatever the saying is.
I don’t care, so long as there’s a barstool inside with my name on it.
Pulling my shoulders back and lifting my chin a little higher, I make a beeline for the front door and fall in line behind a pair of gossiping women with big boobs and even bigger hair. They’re betas, dressed in clothes so tight, they look painted on, and they’re both doused in delicious body spray.
One look tells me they’re enough to tempt any man, regardless of his designation. More power to them. IwishI could pull off the look of sex personified, but I lack the curves and angled features.
I’m cute. Pretty. Sweet, even, but never sexy.
I can’t imagine where they could be going at noon on a weekday that’s deserving of being so dolled up, much less this small, simple-looking restaurant. Maybe there’s a gig in town I’m unaware of–after all, I’ve been living under a rock for the last five years–or maybe they’re trying to impress someone.
Or maybe they’re on a date with each other and I’m reading way too much into this.
