Falling For Casual

Chapter 11

Was I drunker than I thought I'd be today? Yes. Did that stop me from emptying the entire glass of frozen tequila in front of me? Of course not. This buzz was the only thing keeping me in my seat, quiet, docile. Honestly, it was the only way I could stand the sight of Texas. In some ways, the multiple frozen margaritas were the only thing that helped me forget about the hours before this. It blurred not only my eyes but the memories of the fake wedding and how he still hadn't said those four words I desperately wanted to hear.

   Will you be mine?

   "Do you know why I wear just this gold chain with nothing hanging from it?" I asked him with sloshed words. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. It was obvious to both of us how drunk I was, but he just waited patiently for me to elaborate. I wanted his voice. I wanted him to ask why, to feign interest into what I was about to tell him. Instead, he picked up a piece of steak from my plate, the one I abandoned twenty minutes ago.

   "I'm waiting for someone to put something on it. Like a heart locket or the first letter of their name." I shrugged. "It's kind of hard to have this fantasy in my mind because I want someone to do it without me telling them, but how would they know, right?"

   His brown eyes turned down, his jaw working the cold piece of meat until he had chewed enough to swallow. Slowly, he reached for my hand across the table and I placed it softly into his palm. His thumb ran circles along the back of my hand. I didn't like the gesture. It felt like something he was doing to silence me. As if he was telling me what I was saying was adorable but he wouldn't be the one to fulfill this dream of mine.

   "Here," I said suddenly, pulling myself out of his hold. The drinks were completely taking over my judgement now. There wasn't a thing I could do to stop myself from unclasping my gold bracelet from my wrist and wrapping it around his. "I always give the person I'm with my jewelry." But that wasn't true.

    Pushing the hideous bracelets already hanging from his wrist, I sat back and stared at the delicate gold now glistening against his brown skin. I'd pictured doing this very thing a million times. I remembered seeing it in a show. The girlfriend gave her lover a heart pin that he would wear on his sleeve. Her heart always with him. It was something I knew, when the time came, I'd do the same. Such a romantic gesture, a token of my love to always be with someone who couldn't imagine not holding it with them, made my heart sing with the thought.

   But when I saw my bracelet on this man, just a small golden thread with my metaphorical heart attached to it, my stomach twisted hard. With my glass empty, there was nothing I could do to drown that feeling in my gut. I had to sit with it. Sit with the disappointment he continued to give me without even knowing it. An unintentional walking feeling of regret that kept following me around.

   "Have you given this one to anyone before me?" he asked. I shook my head. I refused to admit that this was the first time I was ever doing anything like this in the first place. I wouldn't give him that power over me. And in the back of my mind, I vowed that he would never know he was my first real boyfriend. The first guy that would end up in between my legs.

   "Good," he chuckled, grabbing my hand again and tracing those imaginary patterns against my skin once more. "I wouldn't want to be wearing something you gave someone else."

   "I wouldn't do that."

   My eyes shifted to my wrist, the phantom of that bracelet still there. Thankfully, I had another one left. The golden hearts that wrapped around my tattoo shined back at me. Did it mean something that I hadn't given him this one instead?

   It's because this one is real gold, I tried to rationalize in my head, but that was only half true. There were too many hearts on this piece for me to give to him. It bothered me to give him something that had any physical symbolism. Just picturing myself unclasping this one, all fifteen hearts leaving my wrists and attaching to his, would make me throw up right here on this table. It was too much. He didn't deserve it. He barely deserved the one that was on him now, but the tequila was the one running the show. I'd regret this in the morning without a doubt.