Page 27 of His Jewel

“Me, too,” he said, making his way out of the room. Before he closed the door, he turned back. Drew had made his way around Alana’s desk and was standing in front of her. One hand on her shoulder, the other on her face. His heart lurched at the sight. Jealousy. It was a bitter monster. He needed alcohol. Before leaving, he stopped by the table he had left previously. They were all far drunker than when he left them.

“You need to get on our level!” Rick declared.

Not going to argue with you there, he thought bitterly. He wanted to be on their level, more than anything, for the blissful numbness to take over, for his cares, his anger, to wash away like the tide into the horizon, where they would wait for him like a looming monster.

That was the morning’s problem.

As the night escalated, the room began to spin. A group of scantily clad women joined their table, draping themselves wherever there was a spare lap. He felt a pressure on his own lap, a blonde woman with a face full of makeup wearing a skin-tight dress sat there.

She grinned. “Hello, handsome.”

His stomach lurched in disgust. Who was this woman? Why did she think she could just sit on him?

“This lap is taken.”

She laughed. A horrible, grating sound. “No, it’s not, I’m sitting in it.”

This only angered him more, and he pushed her out of it, off of him.

“It belongs to another,” he slurred.

He couldn’t say her name. Not yet.

This brought a chorus of outraged shouts from her friends, and the guys were looking at him like he’d fucked up. Maybe he had.

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder. Security. Great, he was being kicked out of a club. Seriously, was he a teenager again?

He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m going, I’m going,” he said. That didn’t stop the security guard guiding him out of the club and all the way out of the restaurant and onto the streets, where there was a car ready and waiting to take him home.

Suddenly, he couldn’t be gladder to go home. He felt like a fucking child, being looked after in this way.

“Don’t come back,” said the security guard.

He clambered into the car.

“Wasn’t fucking planning on it,” he murmured. He wanted to add, this place will find you your person, the one you love most, but not before they are ripped away from you. Why would I ever want to come back?

Once he was back in his apartment, he poured himself a large glass of whiskey. He needed to numb whatever this was, this raw wound, until he could even think about talking to her again. He would, he vowed. But not yet. Just not yet.

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