beg him to let me explain everything. I don’t, though. It would be a selfish move, a way to assuage my own guilt. Why would Ryan care about my history with Derek? It doesn’t change tonight’s outcome for him. He has feelings for me that I can’t reciprocate. I hoped I could, but I can’t, and now he knows it. I owe him space.
I wipe my eyes, trying hard to hide my public meltdown. I’ve never cried in a bar before. With the neon beer sign buzzing near my head, I might as well be starring in a music video on CMT.
I drag my gaze back to the bar and find Derek’s still right where I left him, waiting for the bartender, elbows resting on the bar, focus straight ahead. Suddenly, I’m determined to talk to him even if he is tired, even if he wants to be left alone. I can’t let tonight end like this. I wipe my cheeks one more time and that’s when I notice the brunette from earlier—the one who fluffed her hair when he first walked in. She’s standing behind him, gathering courage. She straightens her blouse and then leans forward, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns and glances down at her. I stand frozen, watching them. She speaks and gives him a kind smile, rocking back on her heels before extending her hand. He returns her smile and accepts her hand. Their connection is a blow I didn’t see coming. The bartender finally gets around to taking Derek’s order. He turns to the brunette, asking something before holding up two fingers.
Two drinks. One for him and one for her.
My heart burns like someone’s holding a lighter to it.
Me. I’m the one flicking the starter, cradling my hand around the flame so it doesn’t blow out. It’s my worst fear come to life. Derek with someone else. Derek with a beautiful woman, flirting with her right in front of me. My first instinct is to leave, but I need to witness this. Rip off the Band-Aid all at once. Ready, go. Hold your breath and live through the pain. You’ll survive, I tell myself. You’ll reach the other side and you’ll realize it wasn’t so bad. The pain only existed inside your head. Seeking proof of that, I look down at my chest, and just as expected, there’s no flame pressed against my heart.
Back at the bar, the woman takes the free stool beside Derek and angles her body in his direction. Her knee brushes his thigh. She leans in close to speak to him, and he does the same, trying to hear her over the sounds of the bar. Their mouths are too close. I watch her glance down at his. She wets her lips, subconsciously, I’m sure. She wants him. She’d be a fool not to want him as badly as I’ve wanted him all these years.
Her hand touches his shoulder. My shoulder.
Mine.
Derek smiles at her, and that small gesture is the fatal blow. I turn back to the table, grab one of Ryan’s beers, and chug it, letting some of it spill down my chin. I swallow and sputter and cough and wipe the back of my hand across my face and then I turn to leave. Exhaustion has caught up to me. I feel like I’m wading through thick syrup, carrying the world on my back as I find the exit, push the door open, and walk outside.
I make it five steps, just to the edge of some overgrown hedges, before I lose my stomach. Chugging a beer without eating dinner first was stupid, but that’s not why I’m sick. Another heavy wave of nausea racks through me.
A gentle voice behind me asks if I’m okay and I wave it off, too embarrassed to look and see who it is. I know Carrie’s still inside. God I wish I could go get her, but I can’t go back in like this. Not when I have vomit on her shirt. Not when she’s finally turning a corner with Thomas. Not when Derek is sitting at the bar, getting to know someone new, having forgotten all about me. I wonder if he’ll buy her that taco he owed me.
I stand and prop my hands on my knees and inhale a deep breath. The chilly autumn air hits my lungs like ice and I start the short walk back to my dorm.
I fantasize about what I’ll do when I get there. Cry.