Page 42 of Ex in the City
Dylan laughs – probably at her directness. He’s always loved it when people cut through the bullshit.
She leans in closer, resting her elbows on the table, using her forearms to push her boobs together as she practically shags him with her eyes. Her giddy laughter is louder than the music, and she’s twirling her hair like her life depends on it. He’s polite, and his effortless charm is ever-present. I’ve seen thousands of girls flirt with Dylan – and him flirt back – but today something is different. The sight of her flirting with him, right in front of me, so physically close it’s almost like I’m a part of it, unsettles me more than I’d like to admit. I find myself squirming in my seat and averting my gaze. It’s irrational, I know, because it’s nothing new, but today it’s getting to me.
‘Is it true what they say about guys with tattoos?’ she asks in a breathy voice.
‘I don’t know, what do they say?’ Dylan replies with a laugh.
‘I’m just going to the toilets,’ I say, pushing my chair out, making a dash for the big pink door nearby before anyone can say another word.
As I exit the cubicle, and wash my hands, I stand in front of the bronze-tinted glass mirror and stare at my own reflection. The dim, moody lighting casts a soft, flattering glow, but none of it can offset the fact that I have a face like thunder.
‘What are you doing, Nicole?’ I ask my reflection, silently having a word with myself in my head. ‘What’s going on? Are you jealous? Are you seriously jealous of girls flirting with Dylan?’
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to shake off the irrational emotions I’m experiencing right now. I’ve probably had more to drink tonight than I have this year, and I clearly can’t handle it any more, that’s all. I just need to tell myself to stop, because I’m being ridiculous.
With a final mental shake, I square my shoulders, apply a fresh coat of lipstick and plaster a smile on my face. Suck it up, Wilde. Go out there and have fun.
As I head back to the group with my head held high, I notice something going on. Things seem to have taken a turn with the girl in the sparkly green minidress. From here, outside the commotion looking in, it seems as though her boyfriend, a tall and absolutely furious figure, is now shouting at both her and Dylan. Oh, and just when you think things can’t get any worse, I notice that someone in the crowd is filming the scene on her phone, capturing every tense moment, because everything has to go on social media these days.
My heart races as I step closer and I arrive just as the situation spirals out of control. The boyfriend, blinded by anger, grabs his girlfriend by the hair, violently pulling her closer. I watch Dylan’s expression change, his brow furrowing, his jaw tightening, as something in him engages. He jumps forwards and pushes himself between the girl and her boyfriend.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks her, but with his attention on the girl he has no time to see it coming, the boyfriend swings his fist, and he smacks Dylan right in the face, knocking him to the floor.
My heart leaps into my throat as I rush to Dylan’s side, my hands trembling as I check to see if he’s all right, but the boyfriend is still here, and he’s about to lash out again.
Dylan pushes me out of the way, placing himself squarely between the angry boyfriend and me, but then the bouncers rush in and grab the guy, dragging him away as his sobbing girlfriend chases after them, complaining that the bouncers are hurting him. Unreal.
I turn to Dylan, to examine his face, and my heart skips a beat as I see his lip bleeding. He casually feels the cut with his tongue and then laughs to himself.
‘You’re laughing?’ I say in disbelief.
‘I am,’ he says, grinning through the discomfort. ‘We both know this isn’t the first time someone’s boyfriend has given me a smack in the mouth.’
‘Oh, well, that’s fine then,’ I say sarcastically.
‘Are you proud of me?’ he asks jokily. ‘For not fighting back?’
Now I’m laughing.
‘Yes, Dylan, I’m proud of you for being on your best behaviour in a bar fight,’ I say with a sigh. ‘Good work.’
His smile falls for a second.
‘I couldn’t just watch him hurt her,’ he tells me. ‘And then I was worried he was going to hurt you.’
‘God, I need a drink,’ I say, snatching Dylan’s beer from the table, and taking a big swig even though I hate the taste of beer. ‘Ergh, but not this one – I swear, it tastes even worse than usual.’
‘Before you go, we might have a problem,’ he says seriously. ‘That girl over there, I noticed she was filming everything.’
‘I saw that too,’ I tell him. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got this.’
We approach the girl who is already watching the footage back on her phone, showing her friend who must have missed the drama.
‘Hello, did you film what just happened?’ I ask her.
‘What’s it to you?’ she asks.
I gesture at Dylan to join us.
