The worst kind.
We’ve done all the wedding rituals—cake, dancing, my best man speech—and thankfully, the end came around quicker than you could say ‘are we done yet’? Look, they deserve the special day and all, but being around all this romantic bullshit is simply too much. And without any alcohol to forget she fucking exists, I find myself in a mental state I desperately avoid.
The night dragged on with endless dancing, being pulled to the dance floor by Krystal, who had the breath of a dog’s arse after vomiting her champagne in the bathroom. Excusing myself, I walk outside of the venue, taking in the cool night air and open parklands.
Removing my phone from my pocket, there’s a red notification on the screen.
Chance B: Hey mate, landed in OZ for an impromptu meeting with a sponsor. You free to catch up this week?
The second I see his name, my mind races to her. I’ve never once asked him or Aubrey what happened to her. I choose not to succumb to the pitfalls of social media. My gut warned me what I would find wouldn’t be pretty, therefore I shielded myself from the heartache. I was done grieving over a woman who chose someone else.
I wonder if Chance came alone, and I have no doubt he will raise the topic during our catch-up.
Me: Good to hear from you, mate. How about tomorrow? I’m free in the morning. We can hit The Rocks for brekkie. Not too far from my joint.
He responds instantly, asking me to text him with details early morning. Tucking my phone back in my pocket, a rustling sound alerts me someone is nearby.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Bianca asks, carrying the train of her dress in her hands.
I smile, tired and wanting so desperately to call it a night.
“Just needed a moment,” I sigh heavily. “Your friend, Krystal…”
Bianca laughs. “I’m sorry. She gets a bit carried away on the drink, and she recently broke up with her BF, so she’s eager to hook-up.”
“Eager would be an understatement,” I mumble.
“Oh, c’mon, Olly. You’re one step away from becoming a monk according to Tate. What’s gotten into you? Or should I say who has gotten to you?”
I keep silent, not willing to talk about how the girl I fell madly in love with and would have given up everything for, couldn’t do the same for me.
“So someone has gotten to you. An American girl, I assume.” Bianca sighs, leaning herself against the street pole. “Olly, I know what it’s like to be in love with you. I also know what it’s like to be hurt by you. I’m not asking you to answer how you feel about me, we’ve both moved on and to a better place. But you’re miserable. I’ve never seen you this miserable, and I’ve known you since high school.”
I hate that she’s right. Unlike most women, she has known me since I was a kid. I treated her like dirt, disrespecting our friendship all because of my selfishness.
Thank fuck Bianca found someone who will treat her well.
“It’s just the way the world turns.”
“No,” she argues, softly. “The world doesn’t always turn on its own. Sometimes, it needs a nudge. Now judging by the cynical attitude, I’m assuming she hurt you.”
“A lot of assuming, Bianca—”
“Well? Am I right?”
The confusion stumped my thoughts. She ultimately decided to stay in that lifestyle, but did I push her away forcing her back to a place she didn’t want to be?
Fucking questions.
They hurt my head.
What I wouldn’t do for a drop of bourbon right now.
“It’s not meant to be. Can we drop the subject? It’s your wedding day, and you should be inside with Tate instead of feeling sorry for me.”
She shakes her head, eyes flickering with a know-it-all smile. “Still the arrogant boy from high school. Some things never change.”
“I’d love to see the view.”
Krystal sits beside me in the taxi. A small hiccup escaping her lips with a girlish giggle following soon after. Bianca begged me to take her home and as far away from the wedding reception as possible. A fight had broken out after Krystal tried to crack onto one of Bianca’s brothers-in-law. Quite comical actually. Throw in a wrestling ring, mud, and some score cards, and it would have made for some amusing entertainment.
“Look, it’s just the harbour—”
“C’mon, Olly, I don’t bite.” Her eyes glint with laughter. “Besides, I need to work off the impending hangover tomorrow. I’m staying at the hotel across from your place.”
With much reluctance, I agree, just to get her off my back.
The taxi driver pulls to the curb of my building and quickly swiping my credit card, I thank him for his service and guide Krystal out of the car.
Walking into the lobby, I smile at Barry, the concierge, then enter the elevator up to the penthouse.
“Bianca said you were comfortable, but this elevator is something.” Krystal hiccups, again. She latches onto my arm for support. “You’re really pretty, Olly.”
“Pretty?” I snort. “You need coffee. Lots of it.”
“Coffee?” She giggles, leaning her head onto my shoulder. “And you smell nice.”
The door opens wide, and upon stepping out, a shadow distracts me.
The mane of curly copper hair catches my attention.
It can’t be her.
You’ve done this a million times—think you’ve seen her.
I dare not move, I can’t even breathe, I’m frozen to the spot. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, it’s loud and disrupting. The hairs on my arms stand to attention as a militia of chills marches down my spine.
This is just my imagination.
The beating becomes louder and louder, it’s intolerable, my breaths are deeper and deeper by the second. The air around me incredibly thick, almost choking.
“Oliver…”
This isn’t happening, not
