Page 6 of Bloodstained
I took a drink every time I felt grossed out. And before I knew it, I’d emptied my glass and ordered another one.
Laszlo didn’t notice my discomfort and kept having a one-sided conversation. This was a familiar scenario between us.
But I wasn’t listening. My mind was elsewhere, my gaze flicking to the door every so often as though expecting someone—or something—to walk in.
The patrons inside the tavern grew more boisterous the more they drank.
“Hello?”Laszlo said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
I blinked several times and turned my head to look at him. “Sorry,” I said, but there was no sincerity in that lone word.
He finished his whiskey, ordered another one, and finished that one in a matter of seconds.
“Pardon,” a man beside me said as he accidentally bumped into me when he leaned against the bar and ordered another drink.
I smiled politely at him. “No worries.”
The man gave me a wide smile. “You’re not from here.”
I shook my head, feeling Laszlo’s stare latched on me like it was a noose around my neck. This friendly encounter was for sure gonna add fuel to this imaginary fire Laszlo had conjured up in his mind.
“I can tell. You look like a city woman even without saying a word.” He looked at the ceiling and started murmuring in Romanian, clearly assuming I didn't understand him because of my foreign accent.
I smiled because he was mumbling about not speaking English well enough, and he’d fuck this up and look like a drunken asshole to a visitor in his beautiful village. I could have spoken in Romanian, but before I could say anything, the local man grabbed his drink, said he’d leave before making an idiot out of himself, and to enjoy my evening while he left.
I chuckled and shook my head, taking a drink from my glass and still feeling Laszlo staring at me.
It was only a second of silence before he went in on me. “What the fuck, Clara?” His cheeks were pink, and when I looked at him, he was staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched.
Great, he was getting drunk and getting pissed.
“Always pulling strangers into our conversations,” he ground out.
I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t pulling anyone into anything,” I said. “He was just being friendly.”
“Too friendly,” Laszlo muttered as he downed the rest of his third drink.
I didn’t miss the way his hand gripped the glass a little too tightly, his knuckles white from the force. I tried to steer the conversation back to neutral ground, but I could see the more I spoke, the more he got annoyed.
“What the hell? You’re always invalidating how I feel and what I think,” he spat, his voice low but heated.
“Laszlo, stop,” I said, glancing around as a few patrons looked our way because he was raising his voice and making a scene.
But he didn’t stop. “What, are you collecting admirers now? Is that why you came all the way out here?”
I exhaled loudly, rubbed my temples, and knew he had to go back to London. I wasn't doing this shit. “Laszlo,enough,” I hissed, glaring daggers at him. I’d never raised my voice, never allowed myself to vent my anger outwardly.
The bartender appeared, his face stern. “Are you okay?” He addressed me. I nodded. “Good. But you two need to leave,” he said firmly, his focus solely on Laszlo. “We don’t tolerate trouble here.”
Laszlo looked ready to argue, but I grabbed his arm, flashing a smile at the bartender. “I’m sorry. We’re leaving.” I bared my teeth at Laszlo again. “Shut the fuck up, leave quietly, and we’ll discuss this outside.” I didn't give him a chance to respond as I hauled his ass toward the front door.
But once outside the tavern, I let go of him and started walking to my guesthouse. I was fuming, and so pissed I couldn't even look at him let alone say one damn word to him. So that made the trek tense. Laszlo muttered under his breath while I stayed silent, my thoughts swirling.
By the time we reached my front door, I realized he was on the verge of being too drunk to have a constructive conversation. I unlocked the front door, and before I could tell him I thought he needed to get a room in town, he burst through the door and beelined to the little loveseat.
He slurred something about how I “shouldn’t be so friendly to strangers and be disrespectful to him,” before he closed his eyes and passed out.
I let out a breath and closed the front door behind me. I stayed outside on the porch staring up at the night sky and the moon above. The air was chilly, wrapping around me as I pulled my sweater tighter. The forest stretched out like a sea of shadows, its presence both calming and unnerving.
