His Royal Highness(51)
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. Beat my fists into my pillow. Pen a letter to Derek then tear it to shreds and burn it. Or maybe I’ll just sleep.
That sounds like a good plan. I manage to make it home, wash my face, and change into the softest pajamas I own. I’m tucking myself into bed when I hear a knock on my door.
“Whitney, are you still awake? Hey, it’s Alexa from 3B. I know we’re supposed to put formal complaints in your mailbox, but Kelly is eating my Pringles again—”
I throw a pillow at my door. “GO AWAY!”
Chapter Fifteen
Derek
The woman who introduces herself to me at the bar doesn’t want a drink. I offer, to be nice, but she says she already has wine back at her table. So, I only buy two beers. One for me and one for Whitney. It’s an accident. As soon as I put in the order, I remember Whitney already has a drink courtesy of Ryan.
Her pal.
I probably could have handled that situation a little better, could have clapped Ryan on the shoulder and acted like I was happy to see him, but honestly, I wasn’t. I’m sick of seeing his face. Sick of him standing in my way.
While I wait on the bartender to bring back the beers, the woman tries hard to carry the conversation for the both of us. I can’t remember her name right after she says it and she has to ask a question twice before I realize she’s waiting for an answer. I smile and apologize. She tries one more time to make conversation, and when I reply with a one-word response, she finally just gives up and walks away.
I’m glad to see her go. I didn’t come to the bar to make small talk. I came for Whitney and now she’s off somewhere, alone with Ryan.
That bitter thought keeps me planted on my stool. If I’m going to have to face them together, I need more couth than I can muster at the moment. I stay at the bar and sip my beer, half-focused on the football game playing on the TV in front of me.
I try on a brave face, relaxing my fists so they don’t accidently inflict bodily harm on Ryan. I’ve never been a jealous barbarian. Dragging Ryan out of the bar by the collar won’t solve my problems. Besides, he doesn’t deserve that.
Eventually, I force myself to get up, but it’s too late. It took me too long to compartmentalize my feelings for Whitney because by the time I grab her beer and what’s left of mine then turn to find them, they’re gone.
“Are you looking for Whitney?” a girl asks. I recognize her from rehearsals, but I don’t know her name off the top of my head. I think she’s one of the elves from the Enchanted Forest.
I nod.
She points to the door. “She left a while ago.”
“With Ryan?”
Apparently, my annoyance over the idea is visible because her eyes widen. I consciously loosen my grip on the neck of my beer in an effort to look less like a lunatic.
“No. They left a few minutes apart. It looked like they were fighting or something beforehand. Anyway, someone said Whitney was sick outside, throwing up. Not a good look, if you ask me.”