Page 153 of Rush of Jealousy

When I make my way back to the bar to find Claire, I see her talking with Zander and stop in my tracks. She is animated and yelling and waving her angry finger at him. I don’t need her to slay my dragons, but I love her for trying.

I reach into my handbag and pull out another pill—for extra reassurance. I toss it into my mouth and chomp down on it. The taste is so bitter and nasty that I second guess why I do this shit to myself. I need something to wash down the lingering flavor. I roll my shoulders back and force myself to walk into the train wreck that is about to catch on fire.

I reach between Claire and Zander to grab the drink that she ordered for me. I take a big gulp and then wipe my mouth on my bare forearm.

The two of them stop their showdown and stare at me. I feel dizzy and lightheaded but ready to clear the air and defend myself. Enough is enough. Tears fill my eyes, and I pull on Zander’s arm to get him to follow me. “We need to talk. Outside.”

I plow through the sea of people, tugging Zander behind me—afraid that if I let go, he will run. I push open the side exit and cough at the group of smokers lighting up cigarettes and puffing out a polluted cloud into the cold air. Yuck. I take the ramp down into the back parking lot and find an area that is not inundated with smoke.

The frigid temperature and Zander’s hard expression sober me up enough to say my piece. I stare right into his harsh eyes as mine start to water.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you. But you hurt me too.”

He flinches at my words. But it’s true, so I continue.

“You put an ultimatum on us. I either date you or you walk out of my life. How is that fair? Not only do you blindside me with your revelation, but you make me feel like shit for not reciprocating your feelings. Maybe I have led you on? And if I have, that was never my intention. I never wanted to hurt you. Ever. So I get you are pissed off at me. Fine. But why do you keep trying to seek revenge by hurting me in return?” Tears pour down my face and leave cold streaks on my skin.

He just stands there. Looking at me as if he doesn’t even know me or recognize me. Maybe he never thought I would turn the tables on him. But I feel good for the first time in weeks over this situation. I am not completely at fault, and he deserved to hear it from my own mouth.

I am cold and done standing out here in a barely lit parking lot, while smoke starts to dirty up the air around us from the people ignoring the ten feet away from a building rule. I turn and go back up the ramp inside the building, never looking back. I have said what I needed to say. It is up to Zander on what to do next—if anything.

I scope out the best way to get through the crowd and over to the bar. People are packed in like sardines in a can, and it is nauseatingly warm with everyone breathing the stale air.

“Hey bitch,” a masculine voice says from behind me.

It takes my brain a few seconds to register who it belongs to. Ugh.

Russell.

I turn around and look at his beady eyes and smug expression. What did I ever see in him?

“We meet again,” he says bitterly. His eyes rake down my body, and I feel violated and dirty.

He looks rugged. Like his life isn’t as affluent as it was a few months ago. He didn’t look so unkempt when he stopped into the cafe for a smoothie last week. But upon closer look, his eyes appear like the light that was once behind them has been snuffed out.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, hands on my hips. I turn back to see if I can see Claire. Even on tiptoes I can barely see the bartenders. My arm gets jerked, and I whirl myself around. “Do not touch me!”

His eyes glare with a fiery hatred. “Oh, quit being dramatic. It’s not like you aren’t asking for some fun in this”—his eyes narrow in on my breasts—“skintight outfit.”

“You’re disgusting. And I’m leaving.” So much for being conservative tonight. Even pervs will find some way to objectify you. Asshole. I have zero tolerance for them.

I work my way through the crowd and am a few yards from Claire. I push through a bunch of people who are drunk and swaying to the acoustic song being played by a few people with guitars.

“Wow, what took you so long?” she asks. “Saving your seat nearly cost me an arm.”

“Sorry. I wanted to clear the air with Zander. It was a fail.” I take a sip of the cocktail that is in my area and enjoy the sweetness. However, I just can’t find the desire to keep drinking it. Switching to my water, I take several gulps. Alcohol isn’t going to dull any of the pain I am feeling inside. “At least I got to finally vocalize my feelings of how he hurt me too.”

She nods and checks her phone. “Ethan keeps sending me texts despite this being a no-contact night. He always breaks the rules. So I’m just ignoring him.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask how your”—I tap my chin to think of the right word—“endeavorwent the other night.”

“Mission Hershey Hole was a no-go. I couldn’t go through with it.”

“It’s a big commitment,” I point out. “Once you give it over, I’m sure that’s all he’ll want.”

Claire lets out a long groan. “Most definitely. I just”—she looks off toward the stage and then back at me—“need more time.”

“Do what is right for you. Always.”

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