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Childish satisfaction unfurled, pulling my lips when the whisky spewed from his mouth and nose, and he began coughing. I lifted my hand to his back, slapping it, knowing it probably seemed more of a tickle than help. A final wheeze passed as he narrowed his eyes at me. “How fucking old are you?”
He was questioning if he guessed wrong. Like most girls, depending on the day, what I wore, and how I did my makeup, I could pass for anywhere between sixteen and twenty-five. But I felt even if he were off by a few years in either direction, he wasn’t that far off.
“Eighteen,” I shrugged, sipping my pink drink and watching his eyes grow.
“And your parents let you go out with someone old enough to be…”
My palm came up, cutting off his statement: “My parents know they can’t stop me. They always preferred to know and discuss rather than control me, knowing I would do it anyway and then lie. They also know I am not a wide-eyed, naïve little girl, manipulated by pretty words and gifts.”
“Maybe not, but…”
“But I can make my own decisions, and I will never be at the mercy of a man and their demands.”
****
I blink away the memory, but the words linger in my mind. Because I have been at his mercy for a while now. “You’re right. I knew. But like the naïve little girl I swore I’d never be, I thought you’d get past it.”
From his place sitting on the edge of the bed, he reaches out, grabs my waist, tugs me between his legs, and rests his head against my stomach. “I will, baby. I swear I will. I just need more time.”
My fingers drift through his hair, his touch weakening my resolve. “How much time, Liam? It’s been ten months already. Give me a date. Something I can grasp hold of.”
“I… I can’t do that.”
My hand drops, and I blink the tears away, clinging to the words I told him almost two years ago. I knew he would do this. He will never give me what I need, and I can’t keep living my life on his terms. “Okay.” It’s nothing more than a whisper as I untangle from his arms.
I turn away from him and get my shoes off the floor. The sound of his footsteps are behind me as I leave the room. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going home.”
“Lily, don’t do this.”
“I’m not. You are.”
“I said I need time, dammit. Not that I wanted to end this.”
I spin around so fast that I almost lose my balance. “And I asked how much time. All I asked for was an estimate—a week, a month, anything. But you won’t even give me that because as long as you can get me to drop it for a while, you’re satisfied. Then we repeat the cycle again.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not, but nothing about this is fair to me. This entire relationship has been on your terms. It’s about what you want. It’s time I think about what I need.”
I turn back toward the door, listening to him call for me. When the door shuts behind me, the sounds of his curses and shattering glass make the first tear fall.
Lily
I walk into the club, forcing my head high and a smile on my face. This is a horrible idea, but I’ve told myself I have to be here. Casey asked me to come. My brother and my friends will be here. If I’m not, it will look suspicious.
The truth is no one would think a thing if I bowed out, feigning sick, or even a date. As far as everyone knows, Liam and I are only connected through mutuals.
But I’m feeling especially masochistic tonight. It’s been two weeks since we’ve spoken, and I can’t stand the thought of not seeing him on his birthday.
Through the throng of people dancing to the beat of some hip-hop song, I walk toward the stairs to the second level of the club, where Casey said she reserved the VIP section. I wanted to ask where she got the money to pay for this. This club and that section cost about twenty-five thousand a night. I hope she didn’t ask her stepdad because Liam would die if she did. But I can’t picture her asking anyone else.
When I reach the purple-carpeted stairs, I run my hands over my champagne-sequined dress, push my girls up, and make my way to the top. I feel his eyes on me the second I reach the tables. Casey comes to me first, dragging our friend Ashleigh with her, making Henry, Ashleigh’s boyfriend and Liam’s best friend, grumble. I’m sure she’s using Ashleigh as a shield because Liam was right. This isn’t Casey’s thing.
I slide into a booth next to my brother, who is quick to sling an arm over my shoulder. He gripes and bitches in my ear about the music, the people, and the lights as if his life isn’t lived in this type of chaos. The grin on his face belies his words. He just likes to play the part of a broody asshole, but in reality, he’s just a regular asshole.
“Now that everyone who can be here is here,” Ryder, the lead guitarist of my brother’s band, says, raising a glass, “let’s get the party started.”
