Page 152 of Rush of Jealousy

When the song ends, he slams back another shot. He slings his guitar over his shoulder and tracks me again with his eyes. “And in case she is here listening,” he slurs, “just know that it’s agony knowing that I lost you as my best friend because I was helpless in keeping myself from falling head over fucking heels for you.” He stumbles off the stage and is greeted by a mob of girls who now see him as a hero.

“Well, that was intense,” Claire mutters beside me.

I can only nod and stare at Z. I feel sick. Like I could throw up from the pain that this whole freaking mess has caused.

He is hurting.

But so am I.

I lost my best friend too. And he can’t see past his own pain to even notice mine.

“So much for a relaxing night out for drinks,” I mutter sarcastically. “I feel like my heart just got run over by a Mack truck carrying explosives.”

“He is going to come around, you’ll see.”

“I’m not sure how much of this I can take without losing it.”

I alternate drinks with water. Claire orders us some appetizers to share, and we listen to the artists on stage entertain the crowd.

I pop in a jalapeño popper and slide down off the stool. “Be right back. Gonna go use the restroom. Save my seat.”

I bump and push my way through the crowd and wait in line for the ladies’ room. I pull out my cell from my handbag and text Graham like I promised I would.

Angie: Hiya

The moving dots let me know he is typing a response back.

Graham: I miss you baby.

Graham: Hope you are having a fun time with Claire.

Angie: Nope. Sucks ass.

I send the saddest emoji I can find in my preset list to punctuate my words. That is my current mood. Sad and slightly tipsy—but I don’t think there is a face to represent that combo. I lean up against the wall and almost stumble into the girl waiting in front of me. My phone vibrates with an incoming call.

“Hi,” I say to Graham.

“Why are you sad, sweetheart?” His tone is of genuine concern.

It is so loud with being closer to the stage where the speakers are stacked. “I just am.”

“Why don’t I send a car or come get you myself? Then you come here, and I’ll cheer you up?”

I shake my head no. And then giggle at myself when I realize he can’t see me.

“Can you slow down on the alcohol, baby? Please?”

I shake my head no again. Shit. I keep doing that. This time I laugh so hard I drop my phone.

“Angie? Angie, what happened?”

“Just drop me phone. Waiting for the pee station and this damn line is too long. Gonna use the men’s side.”

“That sounds like a horrible idea. Don’t do that.”

“But I gotta pee. Really bad.” And my head throbs. I really haven’t had that much to drink. For once, I have limited myself majorly. Maybe I am stressed from seeing Zander have a public throwdown with my heart. “Gotta go, I’m next in line.”

I hit the end button and go into the next stall. I fish out my tin container of pills and pop one into my mouth. It should at least help with the headache. Unfortunately, there is no cure for heartbreak.

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