“You know what you need to do?” Charissa leans in and lowers her voice as she peeks over at a group of guys near us. “You need to get laid and I’m betting one of them could help with that.”
“No, I don’t.” Yeah, my vagina hasn’t been used in so long it’s probably dusty, but sex isn’t a priority—can’t be.
I know arguing with Charissa is useless, though. She is twenty-three, works part time at the same bar as me called The Vibe, and it’s her only job other than going to school. That’s about it for her responsibilities and I’m happy for her. Envy her even. But it makes explaining my life problems to her complicated.
“Oh, come on, Avery, you can’t shut every guy out,” she says. “For all you know, one of them could be the one.”
“No, they can’t.”
She shakes her head disappointedly. “Look, just relax, okay? If you’re still not feeling it by midnight, you can leave and I won’t utter a word.” She glances over at the tallest of the frat guys. His hair is combed, his face freshly shaven, his jeans and button shirt obviously clean. He’s clearly checking me out, yet I feel zero attraction to him.
“I have a feeling you’re going to want to stay all night,” Charissa muses with assurance.
“Doubtful.” But I decide to tolerate Charissa and attempt to be cheery Avery tonight, despite my exhaustion and worry. “I’ll stay for one hour.” I check the time. Only fifty-eight more minutes to go.
About two minutes later, Charissa’s friend Alyssia joins us and I feel like even more of a slob standing by the two of them. But I attempt to be as fun as I can and try not to check my phone every two minutes because I’m worried about Mason and the fever he had when I left tonight. I jump up and down while the band plays and do this awesome vanishing into the crowd act when Frat Boy gets the balls to head in my direction. I decline all drinks aimed my way because it’s a necessity these days. I’m a recovering alcoholic for over two years and plan on making that number increase forever.
I put on a great show for Charissa, convincing her I’m having a blast, which in a way I do. But only half my mind is at the concert, the other half back at home with the bills and finals and my son. At midnight on the dot, I turn away from the fantasy world I know can never fully be mine and head back to reality.
“Wait, you’re seriously leaving?!” Charissa hollers at me, fanning her hand in front of her face, her cheeks flushed with sweat.
I offer her an apologetic look then shrug as I mouth, Sorry, but I have to go.
She folds her arms, pissed off as she reels back around toward the stage. She’ll get over it, though, by the time we both are at work on Monday.
I shove my way through the crowd and out the front door, heading for my car at the rear of the parking lot. As the humid summer air soaks my skin, I inhale the freshness while I light up a cigarette. A bad habit of mine, but I do it when I’m really stressed, which is every day.
“Nice night, right?” A gangly, thin-faced guy asks as I pass by him. He’s leaning against the trunk of a car with his arms crossed, his gaze drinking me in like an alcoholic does with a bottle. Moments later I recognize him as one of Conner’s buddies.
“Actually, it’s pretty shitty,” I say without missing a step as I fumble for my keys.
“Hey, wait,” he calls out, striding after me.
My fingers drift to my pocket, just to make sure I have my mace on me.
“I know you, don’t I?” he says. “You’re Conner’s chick.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I jog to my car and unlock the door, trying to disregard the nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m no one’s chick. Never was.” That’s a lie, more directed to myself than the guy. Because it’s hard to accept what I was—what I became.
He sneers as he slows to a halt just behind me. “Clever, but you get what I mean. You and Conner Wellings, you’re married, right?”
I jerk open the door then scowl over my shoulder at him. “Isn’t it pretty obvious I don’t want to talk to you?”
“Hey, I was just being friendly,” he snaps, the friendliness in his tone vanishing. “You don’t need to be so bitchy about it, Avery.”
The fact that he knows my name bothers me. The last thing I need is for word to get back to Conner that I was hanging around at The Golden Element House because he’ll start assuming things just like he used to do all the damn time while we were married. He just got out of jail for the second time and sooner or later he’s going to show up—always does. I just hope it’s later rather than sooner this time.
“Yes, I do.” And I don’t even feel bad about being bitchy, not just because he knows Conner, but because chatting to him breaks my number one rule in life:
No guys.
Ever.
And I never break that exception.
Ever.
Ever.
Ever.
Okay, that’s a lie. I broke the exception once in the past two years since I made the rule. It happened three months ago when my house was being finished up and I met a guy who was helping build it. His name was Tristan.
I didn’t get to know him well enough to catch his last name. Just like I didn’t do anything except give him a quick kiss on the lips after he kind of saved me from a very heated argument with Conner. It took a lot of balls on Tristan’s part, especially since Conner ended up grazing Tristan’s side with a knife. I haven’t seen Tristan since then, our paths never crossing again, but it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten him. It’s not often I meet a guy who makes me question if not all guys are bad. Plus it seemed like Tristan was supposed to be one of those people who was meant to come into my life, even if it was for a fleeting moment.
At least that’s the reason I keep giving myself.
I don’t like to admit it but there was a little more to it than that. That all chivalry aside, I’d also felt a momentary pull with Tristan. Not the same thrilling and terrifying pull that I used to feel with Conner, but in a different way. A way I’m not even sure I can describe other than it was as if that night we came together just so he could help me and in return I could help him. I can’t help wondering if he’s doing okay now. If he’s gotten clean.
I think about it a lot actually.
Every day.
Even though I try not to.
But I see him.
In my dreams sometimes.
And think about him.