Listen To Me - Kristen Proby Page 0,69
shitty day.
Maybe the worst day of my life.
Because I had to let her go, and it was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done. When I close my eyes, all I can see is the heartbreak on her gorgeous face and it makes me feel like a grade-A piece of shit.
Which, I am.
But it’s better to hurt her now, before we get in too deep and before I do something that does far more than just hurt her feelings.
No, I couldn’t go home. Instead I came to a bar on the outskirts of Hillsboro, not far from my house. I’ve been here all morning. I think it must be sometime in the afternoon by now because a new bartender came on shift, replacing the young redhead who served me all morning.
I don’t really fucking know what time it is. Or care.
The middle-aged bartender wipes down the bar with a white rag and nods toward my glass. “Get you another?”
I nod. “Jack and Coke.”
He turns to fetch my drink, then slides it over to me, and just as I’m lifting the glass to my lips, I hear next to me, “Well aren’t you the sexiest thing I’ve seen in here in a while.”
The stranger’s voice is rough from too many years of cigarettes. I ignore her, sipping my drink, hoping she’ll just take the hint and go away.
But she doesn’t. Damn it.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” she tries again.
No, you haven’t. I sip my drink again, still ignoring her.
“Hey,” she says and lays her hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”
Finally, I glance over at her, barely taking in blond hair and bright red lips. I shake my head and raise my glass to my lips. “I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re offering.”
“How do you know?” she asks, still touching my arm. “I like your tattoos. Why don’t you tell me what you are looking for?”
I turn on my stool, getting a good look at the bad dye job on her blond head, with at least two inches of brown showing at the roots. She’s tried too hard with her makeup, probably taking the same amount of time as Addie to get ready, but instead of looking natural and classy, her heavy hand with eyeliner and blush just makes her look trashy.
Her white T-shirt is too tight, her denim skirt too short.
“You wanna know what I’m interested in, honey?” I ask her.
She bites her lip, twirls a strand of hair around her finger, and nods.
“She’s about five foot ten, with natural blond hair the color of morning sunshine and eyes so blue you could drown in them. She’s got curves for days, and her legs are so long they make a man sit up and beg for her to wrap them around his waist. She’s sassy and kind, and has the wittiest comebacks of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“She sounds impressive,” the woman replies, then smiles. “But I bet I can make you forget her.”
“No.” I turn back to the bar and lift my glass, knock back what’s left, and signal for the bartender to give me a refill. “You’re wasting your time here.”
“Well, I’ll be right over there if you change your mind.”
Her heels click as she walks away, and I don’t even give her a second glance. Did I really used to think that women like her were attractive? Because there was a day when I would have taken her up on her offer. I would have taken her into the bathroom, locked the door—or not, I didn’t give a fuck—and fucked her brains out, then gone about my way.
It’s been a very long time since those days, but they existed.
And the thought of it now makes me sick.
“Turned her down, huh?” the bartender says as he passes me a new drink.
“Not what I want,” I reply curtly.
“No, I heard what you want. That’s what we all want, kid.” He snickers and washes glasses in the sink in front of me. “I’m Bill.”
“Jake. Yeah, well, I can want her all day long, and I do, but I can’t have her.”
“So she exists?”
I laugh and nod. “Oh yeah. She exists.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and thumb through my photos, until I come to the selfie we took at the falls. I’m kissing her cheek and she’s smiling brightly for the camera.
“She’s a knockout,” he says with a low whistle. “Fucked it up, did you?”
I just nod and tuck my phone back in