False Pretenses

Chapter 7

(A/N): Guess who's back with a new chapter!

Meeeeeeeee!

Off you go!

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I felt numb partly because of all the alcohol I had consumed and partly because of the embarrassment I felt.

I would face this rebuke head on, I decided. I would not wallow in self pity. So what if he, what's his face, Calum, bailed on me? I could get any guy I wanted.

Chin up, I went to the bar and ordered two vodkas, expecting the flirty bartender to serve me.

I really needed— no, wanted to forget this night, wanted to forget a certain Australian man named Calum, wanted the alcohol to clear my raging thoughts and wipe my mind clean.

I was so angry. Angry that I let a stranger touch me and kiss me the way he did.

I sat there and watched the dance floor as people made out with each other. Some danced and some were just grinding against each other.

I yawned heavily before ordering two shots which the bartender denied me. Damn. Peter was here.

"No. You're already too drunk. You should go home." He said in a fatherly manner.

It made me angry but it saddened me too. It made me remember my dead parents.

My eyes got teary as I tore my gaze away from him. "You're not my father." I hissed.

For some unfathomable reason his expression softened.

"Should I call you a cab, Violet?" He asked.

He was a good looking man in his early forties. He gave me an earnest look as I tried to make sense of what he had said.

"Cmon. I'll call you a cab."

I couldn't make sense of anything.

After paying my bills, I was escorted safely to the cab by one of the bodyguards who worked at the club. He was extraordinarily nice to me.

"Thank Peter." He said pointedly and disappeared.

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I barely had the decency to brush my teeth and change my clothes before I fell down on my bed and passed out.

The next day I woke up with an enormous headache. My stupid alarm clock was making it worse.

Fuçking hangovers.

I banged it with my hand and squinted my eyes to look around my room.

I felt extremely relieved that the curtains were down and made my way to the kitchen to drown myself in water. Water's supposed to help right?

I stepped on something and it screamed.

Wait a seco—

"Ow! Hey!" The thing sounded suspiciously like Gustavo.

In my half-slumbering state, I stepped aside. But it was a mistake.

"Cazzo! Guarda dove metti i piedi! Dannare! Si piede sul mio braccio!" He continued yelling.

"Gus shut up. What the hell are you doing here?" I squinted at him.