Page 86 of Hot Girl Summer

He winks, and grabs a few bottles from behind the bar. I check my phone. Who would guess that no messages on the screen would be such a punch in the gut? I check my socials, then set my phone down on the dark wood and continue my pity party.

“Do you have any Tabasco?” I ask, as I open up the packet of crisps fully, and lay the foil plate in front of me.

“Sure.” He grabs a bottle of pepper sauce, and sets it in front of me. “So, what’s the deal? Did your date stand you up? You look royally pissed off.”

I shoot him a pointed look, then douse my snack in Tabasco. “Me? A date? Do you know me at all?”

“I just thought...you seemed different the last time I saw you.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Once a party girl, always a party girl.”

The words taste bitter on my tongue, even worse than the whisky.“Fair enough.”

A group of three young men in suits approach the bar. The stench of aftershave is nauseating, I have to turn away. I scoot over a little, towards The Lone Ranger.

“So, have you heard from Alex?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, have you?”

“He’s kind of gone off the radar. I think he’s shooting a campaign in like, Dubai, or something.”

“Good for him,” I say.

I couldn’t care less.

He wipes the bar with a dry cloth and sets down a fresh napkin and a new drink—a short, heavy glass filled with golden liquid with a foamy top, garnished with a lemon slice and a cherry on a stick.

I take a sip, letting the smooth, citrus flavour roll over my tongue and slide down my throat. I close my eyes to savour the taste. “Mmm...so much better.”

“Thanks. I’m working on my sours.”

“It’s really good. Hey, have you gotten any further on having your own place?”

“I might have something in the pipeline,” he says, then excuses himself to serve the stench next to me.

I eat my crisps and finish my drink, checking my phone constantly, but there is still no word from Danny, or anyone for that matter.

“Can I get you another?” Luke asks, returning.

I search for the answer in the bottom of the empty glass, shaking my head. “I should probably head home.”

I leave him a tip, and it reminds me of the night I met Danny. Is this what it will be from now on? Constant reminders of what never was, but could have been? Would we have met under different circumstances? After all, we've been going to the same gym for years, and I’d never seen or noticed him.

During the hour or so that I’m in Lilura, the wind has picked up and the air feels marginally cooler, and I’m grateful to have called a taxi.

I half expect to see Danny waiting on my doorstep with a giant bouquet of flowers and an apology. But things like that only happens to nice girls in movies, and I prefer plants, anyway.

No Danny.

No bouquet.

No plant.

I’ve always prided myself on being self-sufficient, and I was naïve to think that I had something worthwhile, or worth fighting for. Still, I can’t shake off the last few weeks, and how good—and right—it feels to be with Danny, in every meaning of the word. If tonight has taught me anything, it’s that first impressions always matter, and the only person I can rely on is myself.

I barely make it through the front door when I see the blonde hair of my arch nemesis sitting across from a sombre looking Stefan at the dinner table. What the fuck isshedoing here? A surprise, nonetheless, but not the one I’m expecting, and certainly not a welcome one.

Stefan’s fork hovers between his lips, and Chrissy turns around like she’s waiting for me to say something. Summer would have raised an eyebrow at Stefan, daring him to take a bite, but I'm defeated. Exhausted. And I'm so sick of fighting. I completely disregard the both of them and head up the stairs.

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