Page 94 of The Photograph

“It’s all right, Ael.”

When he kissed my cheek before leaving the apartment, I smiled. A week later, I broke up with him. The next few weeks after that were awkward, but we eventually became friends.

After John, I dated often, and everything would go well until I talked about my past— without details about the exact nature of my ordeal—and asked them to be patient with me. I was gentle because I was lucky to date good guys who were shocked—some were horrified— but I was always straightforward because I wanted it to be a two-way conversation. But different versions of the same thing invariably happened. They left. Because they didn’t want the pressure of being my first, but the ones that hurt the most were those who weren’t ready for a serious relationship and just wanted to have fun.

I wanted fun, too.

John nudges my arm and hauls me back in the present. “A penny for your thoughts.”

I take a mouthful of coffee and he stands up with me. “I’ll see you at the grand opening?”

John nods and cups my cheek. “Have you thought about what we talked about?”

Oh, no.

“John, there’s nothing to think about. We’re friends and that’s all I’ll ever want us to be. I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay in my life and I’ll have to grieve the absence of one of my closest friends, but we’ll never be anything else and I need you to hear that.”

I kiss him on the cheek and walk away.

****

“I love this song!”

“What?” I shout back to Emma before we fall over on our seats laughing.

She puts her mouth right to my ear. “Let’s go dance!”

A little tipsy and sweaty, I nod and we dance our way to the crowded dance floor.

Emma and I dance and jump until the next song when she moves her rounded fingers to her mouth. “I need a drink. Do you want one?”

“Water.” She frowns. “Wat-er!” She pulls her thumbs up and gets swallowed by the crowd as she sways toward the bar.

The singer’s voice croons about writhing bodies in between rumpled sheets, and I think of Gabe. About his mouth all over me, his hands holding and moving me where he wants me to take me hard and deep.

Hands grab my waist from behind. I yelp. And spin toward the owner of the intrusive fingers. Another tall, man-child grins at me while gyrating his hips like someone who can’t dance. I can’t hear what he says but I’m not really interested, so I smile and turn around.

When the same hands try to grab my breasts, I take the two thumbs and bend them outward until frat boy yells louder than the music, and I dance out of his reach.

I arrived in New York yesterday morning for a break before the Holloway House grand opening in two weeks. I’m also tired of obsessing about sex with Gabe or rather the lack thereof.

After grabbing my drink, I check my messages, and frown. I have a voicemail from Gabe which is unusual. I step in the lounge area of the club and listen to the garbled message twice and call back.

He picks up straight away. “Aelin? What’s wrong?”

“Uh, nothing. You called me, but I couldn’t understand the message. Are you okay?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in New York with Emma. So, what was your message about?”

“I just wanted to talk with you.”

“Oh, I’ll talk to you when I get back then.”

“Aelin…”

“Okay, bye.”

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