The Dangers Of The Damaged ✔︎

55 ↝ Crying In The Club

"We on a long road to self destruction,
You were so in love,
You weren't gonna tell me nothing."
No Idea — Don Toliver

My hand is shaking as I slowly put down the Martini I'm holding on the countertop, Hunter's eyes piercing into mine like lasers.

Everything inside me screams to get up and flee, but I stand my ground, forcing my eyes to look away from him to Kye, who's throwing his arm around my shoulder. I can still feel Hunter's eyes on me when I tune in whatever Kye is talking about.

"So then, Coach wanted me to stay nearest to the goalie which makes no fucking sense dude—"

Trying my best to pay attention to Kye's soccer talk and not about how the guy I love is sitting a few stools away from me, a gorgeous girl obviously trying to flirt with him, I unknowingly down the entire Martini in one go.

I'm not gonna start crying in the club.

"He was sitting there alone, she walked up to him." Leo's voice snaps my attention and I look at him, as he eases an arm around Isabelle's shoulders.

"You don't have to explain stuff to me, Leo." I assure, even though I feel a small relief bloom inside me.

He didn't initiate it. They're just talking.

I reach over and grab the lemon slice off the rim of the empty Martini glass and bite it between my teeth, sucking on it. The tangy sourness of the lemon skitters through me, sharpening the effects of the alcohol.

"As if Hunter would go up to a girl and flirt with her at the bar." Miles snickers, shaking his head.

"Yeah, he doesn't need to drop to that. Girls approach him." Jack rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. "While the rest of us gotta reel em in ourselves."

They're right. He doesn't even need to try in the slightest to attract girls, they gravitate towards him like moths to a flame. I can't blame them, I mean look at him.

I steal a glance at him then, the familiarity of his inky black hair, the grey shirt he's wearing that's rolled up to his elbows, revealing fresh tattoos on his arms that are covered up with plastic wrap.

I'll probably never be able to trace his tattoos with my fingers like I used to. Never see the new tattoos of his up close. The dull ache in the pit of my belly returns.

My eyes flick up to his face, and I don't miss the stoic expression he has on, his eyes absentmindedly trained onto the beer bottle in front of him, paying little attention to the girl that's talking to him animatedly.

I'd do anything to see him smile at me again.

Drawing in a breath, I squeeze down the sorrow that's threatening to explode out of me and look away from them, now slightly less tense because I atleast know that he hasn't moved on that fast.

Thankfully, Kiara walks over to me, Chloe in tow. "Hey, you wanna dance?"

I nod, hopping off the stool and following her to the dance floor along with the rest of our small group. My eyes look back at the bar as Kiara leads me through the crowd, and I catch the girl Hunter's talking to reach over and touch his arm.