Between The Lines

Chapter 108: Other Piece Of Me

Lane's POV (1st Person):

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where the lights are low enough to forget your problems, but not low enough to ignore them. I was on my third whiskey, maybe my fourth—hell, I'd lost count a while ago. The burn of the liquor down my throat was a welcome distraction, but it wasn't enough to dull the thoughts swirling in my head. Thoughts of her.

Rebecca.

I couldn't get her out of my mind. The way she looked at me at the pool, all wide-eyed and nervous, like she was trying so hard to hold it together. It was killing me. I knew she was scared, that she was dealing with more than I could probably imagine, but that didn't make it any easier to accept what she'd said. "I'm not worth it."

I slammed my glass down on the bar, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Not worth it? How could she even think that? She never got it, never understood how much she meant to me. Every time I looked at her, all I wanted was to pull her close and never let her go, to make her see how incredible she was. And yet, here I was, drinking myself into oblivion because I couldn't get that damn phrase out of my head.

I flagged down the bartender, signaling for another round. He gave me a look—half pity, half concern—but I didn't care. I needed another drink. Maybe if I got drunk enough, I'd stop thinking about the way she looked at me, how adorable she was when she tried to be brave, even though I could see right through it.

And God, the way she looked in that swimsuit. I groaned, running a hand through my hair. How badly I wanted to just kiss her, to taste the salt of the pool water on her skin, to forget about everything and just lose myself in her. But no, she had to go and say she wasn't worth it, like she didn't know how she was driving me insane with every little thing she did.

The bartender set down another glass in front of me, and I grabbed it without a second thought. "To the most stubborn, infuriating, beautiful girl in the world," I muttered under my breath, raising the glass in a mock toast before downing it in one go.

I could feel the alcohol buzzing in my veins, making everything just a little hazy, a little less sharp around the edges. But it wasn't enough. It didn't stop the ache in my chest, the need to see her, to talk to her, to make her understand that she was worth everything to me.

But how? How could I make her see it? She was so damn hard on herself, so convinced that she was nothing special, when all I could see was how extraordinary she was. I wanted to shake her, to yell at her, to make her realize that she was all I ever thought about.

Instead, I was here, drowning in whiskey and regrets, because the girl I wanted more than anything didn't believe she deserved it.

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. Here I was, a grown man, practically falling apart because of a girl who didn't even think she was worth my time. If she only knew how wrong she was.

I took another sip, slower this time, letting the warmth spread through me. Maybe, just maybe, if I drank enough, I'd forget about the way she made my heart race, the way she made me feel like a complete idiot whenever she was around. But deep down, I knew I didn't want to forget. I never wanted to forget her.

Because she was worth it. More than she would ever know.

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Third Person:

Rebecca walked into the classroom, her usual confidence dimmed, but still there, like a flickering light. She glanced at Lane briefly, just enough to see the disheveled state he was in—his shirt slightly wrinkled, his tie a little crooked, and his hair far from the usual neatness. His eyes were red-rimmed, a clear sign of a night spent battling sleep, probably accompanied by a few too many drinks. He was standing by the whiteboard, marker in hand, but his mind seemed elsewhere.