Page 10 of Michael
Amanda
Who the helldoes this guy think he is? Just as I was getting the hang of Speed Dating, he barges in all Dean-Winchester-in-scrubs style and steals my date!
Jack stares at me with sweet doe eyes before he turns and follows the stranger, subdued, like a wounded animal. Oh, goddess! Why won’t he fight back?
I heave a sigh. Why do I even care? All I wanted was a free drink, and the owner’s kept them coming—on the house—ever since I got here.
“I’m so done with this.” I grab my bag and reach the strap when…
“Holy shit.” My eyes fly open as, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse the growing amber gleam pulsing inside the bag.
Sheer shock sweeps through me as my hand dips inside the purse and pulls out Richard’s pendant. The stone is gleaming like it’s the fucking fourth of July.
“The stone will gleam when True Love is near,”I mumble like a fool. Maybe it’s the alcohol in my system, but it takes me a while to connect two and two. I look up to see Jack being hauled up towards the stairs by that stranger, then down again at the gleaming gem fading quickly.
“No…” I utter, as a sudden realization shoots my stomach to the floor. This is it. It’s my one chance to escape from spending an eternity in hell,and I’m losing it.
“Oh, no… No, wait!” I blurt in undiluted panic. I rise from the chair, but sit down at once, wooziness overpowering my brain.
“Are you all right, hon?” a sweet-mannered lady asks, as she folds her delicate hand around my arm.
I turn and meet her serene blue eyes. It’s that nice lady from earlier. The one who ambushed me into this dating thing and kept sending me free drinks.
“It’s him!” I tell her, desperate as I surge from my seat and run to the staircase. But they’re both gone by now. “It’s him!” I trudge to the foot of the stairs.
“Honey, you need to calm down,” the lady says, hurrying after me.
As I reach the handrail, she turns to the crowd and adds, “Everything’s all right.” Her tone is reassuring. Yet I don’t feel reassured.
When I try to climb the stairs, I have trouble focusing on the steps. The light’s too dim. Yeah, I’m sure that’s the reason.
Despair builds up inside me. “It’s him!” I tell her. “He’s my fated love!” I pull the necklace to eye level, to a disheartening sight. The stone’s gleam is dead.
“Oh, boy…” the lady murmurs, taking a hand to her brow. She quickly composes her worried expression back into the warm one of before. “I know you feel like he’sThe One.But it was just good old fun speed dating.” A smile blooms on her lips.
“No!” I stammer. My tongue feels heavy as I speak. “Gods, no!” My breathing quickens and my heart spirals down into a dark and fathomless void. “You don’t understand! Who was that guy? I need to know!” I point upstairs.
When my head swings toward her, she stares at me with unblinking, piercing blue eyes. It feels like forever until she speaks again. “My goodness… I’m not sure,” she replies, pensive while she’s batting her long eyelashes. “But the other one’s Dr. Michael.”
“Okay. Good! I need to find him!” I am laser-focused now. My mission is clear:find your True Love and get rid of Richard for good.
“He works at the clinic down the street,” she adds. “These days, he hardly leaves the building.”
I nod. “Ok, then. I’ll find him and he’ll lead me to my love!”
I climb the first step, and as I reach the second, my focus blurs again. Next thing I know, I’m landing cheek-first on the ground.
A high-pitched squeal bursts behind me—or is itaboveme?
“Are you all right?” the nice lady asks.
“Uh-huh,” I manage, unable to move.
“Oh. Come on, sweetie,” she says, helping me to my feet again. She waits until I gather my bearings. And when we start climbing the stairs together, she adds, “I’ll call you a cab.”
“Huh?” I frown. “No. I… I’m on a mission.” The wordmissionsounds funny when I say it. Kind of slurry. The corner of my lips quirks up as I stifle a laugh.
“Honey, you’re… a bit… wasted,” she replies with all the kindness in the world. “Anyway, the hospital’s not going anywhere. So, don’t worry. You’ll find him tomorrow when you’re feeling better.” She gestures to the bartender with a discrete hand wave.
