Lavender Haze

Chapter 23

Once I have another cleansing cry with Rafael, I head home. I was supposed to meet Wes tonight, but I'm not in a place to see anyone today, let alone go on a date and pretend that everything is fine, that my heart is not shattered inside my chest.

So I text Wes and I tell him I have a family emergency and he reassures me it's fine to reschedule our date and that he still looks forward to seeing me.

I huddle in my room, hiding under the thick duvet, staring blankly at a video on Instagram without actually seeing it, all the drapes drawn. Not that it would make a difference, when no light can filter underneath the blankets. Kat is curled with me, oddly pliant as I absently pet her.

As I'm contemplating how much longer I can hold having to leave the warmth of my bed for the toilet, my phone buzzes with a new text.

A little unprofessional to cancel on us to play boyfriend-and-girlfriend with Wes

River's text enrages me to the point my thumbs are flying all over the screen of my phone of their own volition, Kat scurrying away from my wrath with a high-pitched hiss.

Don't start with me today, River

It's been A DAY

A HORRIBLE DAY

THE WORST DAY

And I can't

Not with you

Not with your specific brand of assholeness

I simply cannot take it

I collapse back on the bed, not knowing when I bolted upright, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the text to announce my firing. I've been such an unsubordinated asshole most of my time with River, but I somehow crawled away scot-free every time, even when I told him to his face to fire me. I'm positive I can't delay my execution any further. When my phone vibrates on my chest, I'm scared to look at his response. I dramatically read the text with one eye closed.

It sounds like you might need a drinking buddy

Ha.

The idea is laughable.

River and I, drinking buddies.

And yet.

Here I am, considering his proposal.

Mostly because I want to drink enough to forget about this day.

Also, because a part of me, the one that hasn't gotten the memo that River is engaged, wants to see him and spend time with him and be mean to him and be called a smartass.

That same part wants the comfort of River's hands on my body, even fleetingly.

That part is starved for a human connection I have fabricated in my head.

Because that part of me is a masochistic idiot.

So, even though it's not the smart thing to do, I send him the address of my favourite bar in my neighbourhood.

I'll be there in 45 minutes, River texts back.

It seems like today will be a day for bad ideas all-around.

When I make it to the Strawberry Bank, the bar two blocks away from my apartment, it has started raining, because, why not? Why not make this day even worse? I'm soaked, hair plastered to my forehead, hands so cold I'm shaking.

I peel my damp coat off and hang it off the back of my stool at the bar. The smell of spilled tequila, overcooked buffalo wings and stale beer soothes me instantly. There's comfort in familiarity, and the Strawberry Bank has been a hub for celebration ever since I've moved in my current apartment. After my reconciliation with Dan and Rafael; after they announced their engagement; after I signed my contract with River and Mila (though celebration might be a stretch). The music is way too loud, Metallica screeching in the sound system, and the patrons at the bar are laughing boisterously, someone screaming indecencies, someone squawking along the song, someone else sobbing in the corner as her friend offers napkin after napkin. My problems are just another Tuesday for the Strawberry Bank employees.