Page 6 of A Man in Uniform

I can't. I can't be here like this.

Turning around quickly, I snarl, “Get off me!” Taking a long step backwards, I pull myself away from his grasp.

I don't see his face, it's like a giant black blur. No eyes, no nose or mouth or any distinguishing features. He's just a smear of skin.

“What's wrong?” Jenn asks, her eyes darting between me and the guy. She turns her attention to him, because the look on my face is probably telling her he tried something he shouldn't have. “Go! Get the hell out of here!” She flails her arms in his direction, shooing him away like a stray dog.

Keeping my head down, I rub my forehead, trying to get a grip on my fucking mind.

This has to stop, I can't keep doing this to myself!

“Are you okay? Did he try to hurt you?” Her eyes scan my body, checking for any visible injuries.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just, I got a little freaked out is all.” Running my hand through my hair, I try to laugh it off. “Sorry, guys, I think I'm just going to go. That shot isn't sitting right.” I point over my shoulder at the exit with my thumb, and start to back away as I rub my belly.

“What? But the night hasn't even started yet. Don't go yet, stay a little longer.” Jenn pouts her lips, and gives me puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, Story,” Claire chimes in. “Don't go home just yet.”

“I'm sorry, I really am, I'm just not feeling good right now.”

My friends look at each other, then back at me. “Is this about him?” Claire asks.

“About who? That guy?” Shaking my head, I say, “No, it's fine. He didn't do anything, I just—”

“No, not that guy, you know who she's talking about.” Jenny tips her head, and folds her arms across her chest.

The look she's giving me, I hate it. I can't lie to her about anything. We've know each other for a few years, and she's been able to see through every lie I've ever given her. But I still try to any way. Because I'm stubborn as fuck, who am I kidding.

“There is no guy, I don't know wha—”

“Don't play stupid, you know who I'm referring to. It's been years, Story—years.You've gone out on what—five dates since that boy?” She looks between Claire and myself, her brows furrowing. “Is that right, Claire? Five?” she asks, scrunching her face like she's counting in her head.

She's right, one a year. And all of them tanked.

But I don't let her know she's right. It doesn't matter how many dates I've gone on, or who they were with. None of them felt—right.

She doesn't understand. She has no idea what it's like to lose the person you love and not know why.

“I know, I know, to you it looks like I'm not putting myself out there, but—”

“But,” she says, cutting me off. “That's exactly what you're doing. You'renotputting yourself out there.” Jenny takes a step forward, grabbing both my hands and pulling me closer. She softens her expression, tilting her head into her shoulder as she lets out a heavy breath. “He isn't coming back. I know it, Claire knows it, and even you know it. It's time to move on, Story. Every time you look like you're finally starting to enjoy yourself, or you feel even a sliver of butterflies for someone else, you find some reason to end it. You're waiting for a ghost, Story, a ghost who's never coming.”

“I'm not waiting for anyone.” Pulling my hands free, I can't stop the defensive tone in my voice. “Look, the guys I went on dates with weren't even guys, they were boys. I just haven't met the right person yet, that's all. And I will one day, but it's not going to happen in some dirty nightclub. I'm not going to meet the man of my dreams in a place like this.”

“I'm not trying to pressure you, Story, I'm really not. But you find fault in every guy you date. You have to realize that Mr. Perfect—your version of Mr. Perfect,doesn't exist. This man you've put your life on hold for isn't coming to sweep you off your feet. The sooner you let his image go, the sooner you can open your heart to someone else.”

Fuck, she's right again. How does she do that?

The thought hurts. It's something I've never really wanted to address. I know he's not my Prince Charming anymore. I know the day he left, he also made a choice to leave me too. I just wished he had the balls to tell me.

“Look, I appreciate the advice, I do, but let me do this on my own time, and on my own terms. It'll happen, when it's supposed to happen.”

From the corner of my eye, a figure catches my attention. Whipping my head over my shoulder, I spot a shape in the shadows of the back. It's tall, thick, andfamiliar.

Could it. . .Blinking, I try to focus in the darkness of the club, finding stable light between the bursts of the strobe light above the dance floor. But when I blink again and open my eyes, he's gone.

Squinting, I stand on my toes, dipping and moving, trying to see through the crowd of dancers. He's definitely gone, disappearing as quickly as he manifested. The weight of that shadow sits on my chest. It settles there, painful and uncomfortable, yet wildly familiar.

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