Love Letters and Literature

Two hours ago...

Thomas POV:

I'm so angry that I can barely even see. How dare she even entertain such an idea?

I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles are stark white. I can't remember ever being this damn angry before in my life.

Every fiber of my masculinity is telling me to hunt Michael down and beat the shit out of him. It may be forbidden, but Sophia is mine and there is nothing that I will let change that.

It sickens me down to my pride to admit, but even if Sophia slept with him I know I'd find a way to get past it. I know how she feels about Michael, and I know she'd only do it if she absolutely had to but the sheer thought is making my body tremble.

The thought of him inside of her is more than I can physically handle. I pull off into a nearby parking lot as the agonizing feelings overtake me.

When I finally take a deep breath and look up I'm greeted by neon lights and the comforting sirens call of a cold glass of whiskey.

I slam my car in park and turn it off, trudging with premature guilt into the bar that I accidentally drove to.

It's the same bar that Sophia had gone to that night a random stranger put his hands on her.

Even more terrible feelings swell inside my lungs. I make a bee line for the bar where a very tan woman with dark black hair greets me.

She looks familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"What Can I get ya, Handsome?" She asks with a fairly sweet smile. She looks like she recognizes me too but I guess we're just going to pretend we're strangers.

"Whiskey. Neat." I say bluntly and pull my wallet out to start a tab.

"Actually, this ones on me." She says as she winks at me, her eyes looking like they hold a secret.

Is this flirting? If so I want no part of it. I'm here to drown my problems, not create more.

"No, I insist." I say as I push my debit card towards her.

"No. I insist." She says firmly back to me and refuses to take my money.

"Fine then." I say as I give in. I just want my drink, I don't really care whose pocket it comes out of.

Once the amber drink is placed in front of me I down it like a shot, bypassing the sip slowly protocol.

"You know, if you're here to get drunk I'd recommend shots." The bartender suggests, but I just give her a cynical laugh.

"Whiskey does the same thing, it just tastes better."

"If you insist. What are you here to drown?" She asks, leaning closer to me from across the bar. It's a pretty slow night since it's a Thursday, and I'm assuming it's also a bad night for tips.

"Who said I'm drowning something." I reply as a way to dodge the question.

"Honey, it's written all over your face." I smirk at the girls comments and wonder if I must be cursed.

She looks to be about twenty four or so. Other than being young she looks nothing like Sophia, and yet I can't help but be reminded of her for some reason. Why do young women seem to like me so much?

"I'm having relationship issues." I say vaguely as I slide my glass towards the bartender. "Another, please." I say slowly, my eyes staring at the glass.

She fills me up again and continues to make small talk. By my fourth glass I'm feeling that typical heavenly sensation wash over my body. I don't have a care in the world, and everything seems so much easier.