Page 19 of Sexting My Ex's Dad
If he ever does respond. If he hasn’t by now, he probably won’t.
“Stella, are you feeling okay?” Anastasia asks, her voice laced with worry. “You seem a bit off since you left the bathroom.”
“Really, I’m fine,” I insist, forcing a smile onto my face. “Just a bit tired, I guess.”
“Maybe we should call it a night,” she suggests, her brow furrowed in concern. “We both have work tomorrow, and I know you’ve been pulling double shifts lately.”
I’m shocked… I’d thought she’d go home with the bartender, but from the look in her eyes, clearly, she’s tired too. The good thing about Anastasia…? She knows her own limits.
“Anastasia’s right,” the bartender chimes in, setting a glass of water down in front of me. “You two should get some rest. I’ll call a cab for you.”
And the bartender isn’t pushing for more? Clearly, there are still good men in this world.How come I can’t find one of them?
“Thanks, that’s really kind of you,” I tell him, taking a sip of the water. As I do, my thoughts drift back to the text message I sent to Paul. What if he doesn’t like the photo? What if he rejects me?
Then I move on and pretend like it never happened.
“Your cab is right outside,” the bartender interrupts my thoughts, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Take care of yourselves, okay?”
“Of course,” Anastasia replies, her hand resting on my shoulder. “I’ll text you.”
“You’d better.”
We gather our things and go outside. Feeling the cool night air against my flushed skin, I weave through the crowd towards the waiting cab. Anastasia links her arm with mine, guiding my stumbling steps. It’s practically the blind leading the blind.
The cab is already waiting for us when we go outside, and Anastasia helps me inside. As soon as the door shuts behind us, I sink into the worn leather seat.
The car pulls away from the bar, and the world outside the window becomes a blur of neon lights and shadowy figures. My heart races in my chest, pounding like the bass line of the music still playing at the bar.
“Stella?” Anastasia’s voice cuts through the silence, hesitant and concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem really out of it.”
“Y-yeah,” I stammer, forcing a weak smile onto my lips. “Just...thinking about something.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
My gaze drops to the floor, focusing on the tattered carpet beneath my feet. “Not right now, maybe later.”
“Alright,” she relents, squeezing my hand gently. “Look what I got.”
She reaches into the little pocket of her jacket and has a small bottle of fireball. My eyes widen. “How did you get that?”
“Swiped it when the bartender wasn’t looking. He won’t mind.”
I laugh and shake my head. Only Anastasia would do something like this. “Haven’t we drunk enough?”
She grins. “It’s just our post-game drinking. Now do you want some or not?”
“Why not?”
She hands me the bottle, and I take the first swig.
11
STELLA
The door creaks open as I stumble into Anastasia’s apartment, the room spinning around me. It’s clear that I’ve had one too many drinks tonight.
It’s probably the post-game that finished me off.
