Page 53 of Under the Texas Sky
I cry until my head hurts and my tears have run dry.
The flashes of Kian pulling his hand back from mine play on a loop inside my head. He was so quick to flinch away, like Iphysically hurt him just by being in his vicinity. It was painful, and a stark reminder that we’re not the same people we were before, no matter how much I want to kid myself that we are.
He was giving mixed signals, but I can’t blame him for that. What I did was beyond fucked up, and I hurt him in the worst way possible. I can’t expect him to forgive me, not without us actually talking about it. Is there ever a chance of us being able to talk about it, though?
I saw him and was in shock. Millions of questions ran through my mind. Why is he here? Did he really come home?
His answer was a cop out- and I knew it. But I was too excited to see him to truly push the subject.
And when he showed me what he was working on, it felt like he was letting me in again. Letting me see a part of him he doesn’t show to everyone. He never posts about his photography on his social media pages. I should know, because of how often I obsessively check it.
Then it all fell apart right in front of me. I couldn’t stay there and watch as the disgust started to take over the happy feeling. Because that’s what would have happened. He hates me. He doesn’t have to say it, but his actions prove it.
I wanted him to come back for me, but no matter how nice that dream is, that’s all it is. A dream of a reality where we are still together. I could cook for him, the recipes I’ve been working on perfecting, while he dances around the kitchen to a custom playlist we made together. A dog running wild in the backyard and then cuddling up with us on the couch. Puzzles with Mitch. Everything. It’s too good to ever be true.
My mind goes to the night that I fucked everything up. It only goes there when my brain is too exhausted to fight the memory.
The bartender slides another cup of water in front of me, and I reach out to grab it. My hand is shaking, and it’s a struggle to clasp the cup in my hand. The condensation makes it slick, and I watch as the glass slips out of my hand and hits the wooden counter, spilling its contents all over.
Whoops.
I try to inconspicuously dry the water up with the small, square napkin the bartender had been setting my drinks on. It’s not working. There’s way too much liquid.
“Here, let me help,” a southern twang whispers in my ear. He kind of sounds like that one guy… I can’t think of who it is now, but it’ll come to me later.
“Thanksss.” I draw the ‘s’ out way more than necessary and have to fight back the laugh that wants to erupt out of my mouth. I sounded like a snake.
I sit there in silence as the stranger mops up the water and the bartender glares at me from the other end of the bar. I lift my hand in a friendly wave and nearly fall out of my seat. Fuck, I need to go home. Like thirty minutes ago.
The guy leans in close to me again and pushes a cup of water in front of me. “Here, it was mine but you look like you need it more.”
I nod and lift the glass up to my mouth with both hands, making sure to hold it securely this time. I down half of it in one go, then pause to take a deep breath. My stomach feels way too full now, like I might throw up. Ugh.
“What’s your name?”
I look over my shoulder at the stranger, his bleach blond hair and blue eyes make him look like he just walked off a beach.All he needs is a puka necklace and a surfboard to complete the Cali-boy look.
“Trent,” I offer, slowly sipping the water.
“I’m James. What are you doing here alone?”
A fight with Kian, Kian telling me to leave. I can’t tell a stranger that, though.
“I just needed some time for myself,” I say, shrugging my shoulders sloppily, making some of the water flow over the side of the cup.
“Yeah, me too.” He sits down on the stool beside me, and the bartender comes back. She hands me another water glass, her hard eyes on me, and she stands there while I slowly drink it. Once I’ve finished the whole thing, she nods, pleased with herself, and refills it before she goes to the other end of the bar to take care of the patrons.
James scoots closer to me. “Wanna get outta here?” He rests his elbows on the counter, close to my cup, while he stares at me.
“No, I really should go home,” I say. But I can’t go home. Because Kian told me to go to Mitch’s, and I can’t go to Mitch’s the way I am right now. If I spend just a little longer here, and drink more water, I’ll be sober enough to go to Mitch’s. “Actually, I need to sober up a little more, then I’ll go home.”
He nods, bumping his hand against my glass as he pushes it closer to me. “Drink up, then.”
I sip the water, feeling the cool liquid on my tongue, a slight bitter taste flooding my mouth.
James leans in closer to me until our faces are a breath apart. He presses his lips to mine, and I don’t fight against it. It feelsnice to be sought after, to be wanted. His tongue grazes my bottom lip, and I open my mouth to twirl my tongue with his.
My mind is hazy, the water isn’t doing its job of sobering me up. My thoughts grow hazier as I fight to keep my eyes open. Bright blond hair enters my line of vision, helping me out of my chair.
