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She nods and goes back to her glasses.
I look at my phone. Damon’s sent a text.Belle! Where are you?
Me:Having a drink.
Damon:With whom?
Me:On my own.
Damon:Are you okay?
Me:Yeah.
I stare at the screen for a few seconds, then send another message.
Me:Nah.
Damon:Belle, where are you?
Me:Just in a bar.
Damon:Which one?
Me:Don’t worry, the bartender’s cutting me off soon.
Damon:Please, tell me where you are.
Me:I miss you.
Damon:Which bar, Belle?
Me:We should have gone straight to your room.
Damon:Which bar, Belle?
Me:I was looking forward to all those orgasms.
Damon:BELLE, WHICH BAR?
I put my head in my hands. I’m so fucking tired, but I know I’m not going to be able to sleep. I should go home, though. I put my feet down and almost slip off the barstool. Whoa. I’ve drunk more than I thought.
My phone buzzes.
Damon:WHICH BAR
Damon:BELLE?
Damon:WHICH BAR
Damon:DON’T MAKE ME SEARCH THE WHOLE FUCKING CITY, BECAUSE I WILL
Me:Stop shouting. You’re making my head hurt.
Damon:Where are you?
Me:I think I might have drunk a bit too much.
Damon:WHICH FUCKING BAR?????????
