and began heading back to my own place.
There was something undeniably quiet in all the noise of Boston at night. Sure, there were cars and I could hear voices. There were lights everywhere, and cafes lit up like safe havens. But none of it had anything to do with me. My brain could shut off and my senses could be distracted by the textures of the city. I walked and walked, and it didn’t take me long to recognize that I wasn’t walking back to my home. Instead, like my heart had its own GPS, I was tracing the steps I’d taken to the bar the night I’d met Stevie. Sweet Nell’s squatted like a beacon of hope, like it could infuse me with alcohol and warm memories and let me dream about what might have been. I didn’t think about it too much before I pushed my way in.
I thought my heart couldn’t handle any more rejection, but apparently, I was wrong. In the dim lighting, with the smell of stale beer floating through the air and men discussing something in grumbling tones at the bar, I knew that I would stay with Melissa, would always stay with Melissa because Stevie was launching herself at someone I recognized as Dr. George Hale and kissing him with all the passion and determination I had thought would only ever be reserved for me. My heart clenched painfully, but in the same way you watch a car wreck happen and can’t look away, my sight never strayed from her. Stevie held his face.
Did she hold my face like that?
I saw the flicker of her cheek that meant her tongue had breached the barrier of his mouth, and then, he was kissing back, but I didn’t give a shit about George Hale. I cared about Stevie. I cared about what she was doing, and the fact that she was making out with someone that wasn’t me. I could have ripped Dr. Hale’s face off, but then I heard Stevie speak.
Her voice had some strange, breathless, yet stale quality that I couldn’t place. It was probably the alcohol, judging by the empty glasses on their table. For a moment, the whole place seemed to quiet down, and I could hear the gasped words, even from across the room.
“Come back to my place,” she begged.
I had seen and heard enough.
Instead of staying, I stalked back out the door and gulped in breaths of the night air, wondering how my love life had gotten so messed up. How did she make it look so easy, moving on? I was envious of her and flashed all sorts of shades of green when Stevie and George tumbled out of the pub, like leaves on the wind, and headed in the direction that would take them back to Stevie’s place.
Instead of making my presence known, I disappeared back into the shadows, watching their retreating forms and wishing, more than anything else, that I was the one to elicit the drunken giggle I heard slip past Stevie’s lips.
Chapter Fifteen
Stevie
My hands fumbled with the locks and then we were inside.
George had barely let go of me in the cab or on the way up to my apartment, and I couldn’t deny I felt mollified under the attention. For just a moment, I let myself fall into the fantasy that he was Adrian, that the hands creeping up my back were another man’s. Eager to prove something (to who, I didn’t know), I placed his hand on my ass and guided George to the bedroom. He was clearly excited, his erection pressing against my thigh when we rubbed together. We reached my room and there was no fanfare. George’s shirt was off, and my heels were lost somewhere on the way to the bed. I slipped out of my pantyhose and pulled my dress off over my head.
“Damn,” was all George could apparently manage to say.
I couldn’t deny that it was pleasing that my semi-naked form could cause a grown man to stop dead in his tracks. I pulled him into a kiss and felt his warm palms hold my waist. He held me like I was something fragile, precious, and I wanted to be that for him. I let him lay me down, and he pulled his own pants off. There were only two layers of clothing between the two of us, and I felt my heart begin to speed up.
Finally, I thought, anticipating the spike of arousal that Adrian had