Page 54 of How You See Me
Under the neon light, his eyes glimmer like liquid gold. His lashes are too long for his own good. His presence too potent. It should be against the law for a man to be this beautiful. How can I be expected to keep to myself when he makes me ache with want from simple glances, half-smiles, and calloused hands that touch me with tender care.
I want to kiss him and test what it would do to me. Maybe I’d feel nothing and end the curiosity. Wouldn’t it simplify this trip if I knew the electricity we make was only surface level?
I lift a hand to his cheek and his body hardens, either from shock or he’s fighting the pull between us. It can’t be rejection. He must feel it too. How could he not?
Waiting for a retreat signal in his body language, I get nothing but his lips parting as he leans in ever so slightly.
Hedoeswant this.
This feels right. This feels like . . . vomit in my throat.
Nooooo. Not now. My stomach revolts. Fruity flavors mix with chicken and too much alcohol, and it’s impatient to rid itself of me.
“Restroom, please,” I say quickly, begging my body not to make a fool of me here or on Hayes. I wouldn’t be able to show my face for the rest of the trip.
He doesn’t hesitate. Taking my hand, he cuts through the crowd, keeping me close behind him. His big body acts as a bulldozer and people scatter along our path. We reach the restroom in record time, and I all but dive inside.
Everything comes up in the first toilet I find—sugary cocktails, dinner, pride—all of it. I have no idea how long my body assaults me before I slump to my knees. If Hayes wants to keep his distance from me, this should do it. Rotten breath, sweaty hair and skin, and red eyes because I can’t stop crying.
Everything hurts, and I’m sitting on the most disgusting floor. It’s sticky, gritty, and smudged with a strange black substance. Thanks to my disappearing energy, now, I am, too.
So much for channeling that sexy bar dancer confidence. So much for mystery and charm.
I lean back against the cool tile wall. It’s gross but feels like a swimming pool on a blazing summer day. If I close my eyes, I can imagine I’m floating in it.
With a vow never to drink again on the tip of my tongue, the four walls of the tiny stall fade away.
???
Hayes
Josie’s been in there too long. I’ve seen countless women go in and out. But still no Josie.
Another woman approaches now, sharp heels clicking against the tile floor. I step forward to intercept her, then she steps into the light.
Just my luck.
“Hi, Gretchen.”
She pops out a hip and crosses her arms, obviously not interested in talking to me. I don’t blame her. I’d disregarded her and acted like that asshole I’m desperately trying not to be. Suddenly, I wonder if Iamthat person after all.
I swallow that discomfort and a little pride along with it to do something difficult for me. I ask for help.
“My . . . girlfriend is in there.” There’s no time to correct my earlier miscommunication. “I’m worried she may be sick. Could you check on her for me?”
Her hardened posture eases. “Sure.”
Alone again, I pace the hallway, needing to see Josie. Needing to ensure she’s safe. Another five minutes ticks by with no news.
I’m gearing up to tear the doors off the hinges when it finally creaks open, and Gretchen's head pokes out. She waves me over, but I can’t wait for details. I charge in.
“What’s wrong?” I ask on the way by, my voice sounding more panicked than I’m used to.
“I tried to wake her, but—”
“Wake her?” My stomach jumps into my throat. I should have barged in sooner. “Where is she?”
And that’s when I see legs stretched out under the cracked stall door, one hand resting on the floor.
