Page 5 of There's No Us Without You
My chest tightens and the urge to comfort him is overwhelming.
He seems just as sad as me, that faraway look in his eyes telling me he’s haunted by a tragic story of his own.
Before I get the chance to ask why he’s here all alone, a pretty blonde woman bounds up on the other side of him and bounces on the spot like an excited child, her blue eyes as wide as her open mouth.
This must be his girlfriend. It was stupid of me to think he wouldn’t have one, considering he’s... well... him.
I’m waiting for the dirty look, or for her to show me this is her man by grabbing his collar and slamming her mouth to his.
Instead, blondie ignores me, her focus remaining on the man beside me even though he’s yet to acknowledge her presence. Frustration must get the better of her because she shuffles a little closer and knocks his upper arm, sending the whiskey in his glass spilling out the top and over his long fingers onto the bar.
At first, he just sits there, staring at the mess. Then he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and plasters on a big smile before glancing up at the woman.
“Oh. My. God,” she says, bringing her hands to her bright-pink cheeks as though she hadn’t just intentionally bumped into him. “Emerson de Silva, I’m a huge fan. Will you sign this napkin for me?” She shoves a hand into her purse and pulls out a thin white paper napkin—the same as the ones on the bar—and a Sharpie and shoves the items at him.
Ok, I didn’t see this coming. He’s famous? And his name is Emerson?
I like it.
“Sure, what’s your name?” He grabs the pen from her hand and waits as she blinks at him a few times.
The wheels are spinning, but nothing is coming out of her mouth.
But, I get it. His beauty is enough to render anyone speechless. Even women who look like they just stepped off a catwalk, it seems.
“Kylie,” she finally says, her voice rising a few octaves. “My name’s Kylie.”
“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Emerson says as he signs the napkin without tearing it.
The tone of his voice is flat, as though he’s repeated the same words hundreds of times and they’ve now lost their meaning.
Words can do that. Especially when they lack any feeling behind them to begin with.
Kylie bounces on the spot once again and snatches her signed napkin and pen from Emerson when he holds them out to her. “Thank you,” she says, before kissing his cheek and racing off into the crowd.
“You’re popular.” I bring my glass to my lips as I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.
He scoffs, drawing his eyebrows in as he stares at his drink once again. “Something like that.”
“Must be hard having women throw themselves at you and beg for your attention.” The words are out of my mouth before my brain catches up, but what I wouldn’t give to have the affections of others so freely handed to me.
Shaking his head, Emerson throws back the rest of his drink before slamming the glass down. “Highlight of my fucking life.”
Crap. I’ve definitely offended him this time.
He stands and pulls his wallet from his back pocket before snatching out a fifty and slamming it on the bar. “Thanks, Tommy.” He raises a hand, getting the bartender’s attention for a second time.
Tommy winks, giving Emerson a quick two-finger salute before his attention turns back to the customer he’s currently serving.
At first, it seems Emerson is just going to walk away, but then he gives me one final look while rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen,” he says, wincing. “The fact they haven’t come after you to beg for your forgiveness tells you everything you need to know—they’re a fucking idiot and you’re better off without them.”
Standing, he’s even more striking, and I have to crane my neck all the way back just to see his face.
I open my mouth to say something, but when nothing coherent comes to mind, I close it again. How do I respond to that?
Please don’t leave me.
I grab his arm before he can walk away. “Wait,” I say, glancing around the room as though the right words will just bounce off the walls and fall into my mouth.
