Poison of love

Jessica

I quickly take off my pajamas and put on black leggings paired with an Adidas hoodie. I rush down the stairs, notifying my mother that I'm leaving, and grab the car keys from the entryway table. I get in the car and head toward the place Will directed me to. During the drive, my heart races, and anxious thoughts crowd my mind. What could have happened? Is he okay? Calm down, Jess. Will said nothing serious happened. I need to stay calm and breathe deeply without losing control. I push down harder on the accelerator to get there as quickly as possible.
After a forty-five-minute drive, I arrive in front of Aqua Spirit, a night bar in London known for its sophisticated atmosphere and rooftop terrace with panoramic views of the city. This is my first time stepping into this venue. The interior features contemporary and elegant design, with a sophisticated and welcoming atmosphere. The lights are dim, creating an intimate and relaxed environment. The furnishings are modern and minimalist, with a mix of luxurious materials like velvet, dark wood, and shiny metals that add a touch of class to the space. The main bar is the centerpiece of the room, with a long marble counter surrounded by stylish stools. The walls are decorated with contemporary design elements and artistic lighting, creating plays of light and shadow that enhance the nightlife vibe. The low tables and comfortable upholstered sofas invite guests to relax with their drinks, while the spacious layout prevents the atmosphere from feeling overcrowded, maintaining a sense of exclusivity.
I look around the crowd, trying to spot familiar faces, and in the distance, at the back of the room, I see someone with their back turned. I approach. It's Ana. I squint to see better and notice her sitting on Mason's lap, passing him a cigarette from her mouth. I freeze. My heart stops. She notices me and turns around, wearing a mocking smile, then stands up. Mason's expression changes; it becomes tense as he fixes his gaze on me.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he spits out in a rough voice.
"I came here to watch you making out with Ana on your lap? It's a pathetic sight, even for you," I shout. His jaw tightens. He stands up abruptly and shoves his chest toward me. His imposing body overwhelms me with the smell of smoke and alcohol. I hate smelling that stench on him. It disgusts me. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says, scrutinizing me from head to toe. "That's not the right outfit for a place like this," he comments. I look at him with disgust, staring intensely into his eyes.
"You're dead drunk," I retort, stepping back. I can't stand that nauseating smell.
"What's wrong, are you scared?" he replies, stepping closer.
"Don't come near me," I say, extending an arm on his chest to keep him at least a meter away. "You reek of alcohol. How much have you drunk?" I shout, angry. All the anger I've suppressed is slowly bubbling to the surface.
"It's my life; I can do whatever I want," he responds, angry, with his jaw clenched.
"I'm leaving!" I turn my back on him, but he grabs my wrist. I turn my head toward him.
"Do you want to join us? There's room for you too," he offers with an amused smile.
"Not a chance!" I exclaim, yanking my arm away from his grip. Mason looks confused.
"Jessica, you're here!" Will exclaims, just arriving beside us. I shift my gaze to him.
"I was leaving," I retort, furious.
"You just got here, and now you're already leaving?" he asks sarcastically. I shoot him a glare. "Stay away from me, Mason Scott." I turn and walk away, disappointment in my eyes and anger overwhelming me.
I exit the venue and hear Will calling me from behind. He steps in front of me.
"Sorry, it wasn't supposed to go this way," he says, hands in his pockets.
"You didn't tell him you called me, did you?" I ask, bewildered.
"Um, no," he murmurs quietly.
"I figured as much. Why did you make me come here?" I shout, furious.
"I heard him mumbling your name. What was I supposed to do?"
"You heard wrong. I saw it with my own eyes, Will. Ana was on his lap, grinding against him, and I can't even think about anything else. I've seen enough to be humiliated by him," I reply, with tears in my eyes and a broken voice.
"Shit!" he exclaims, impulsively.
"I have to go now," I say, pushing past him, trying to reach the car.
"Jessica, I'm really sorry. I don't know why he's acting like this," Will says from a distance as I leave him alone. I turn to look at him with my hand on the car door handle.
"I—I can't do anything, Will. I don't want to fall into the abyss with him," I reply bitterly. I get into the car and drive away.
I see the road blurred by tears streaming down my face continuously, without stopping. I've been really stupid to believe he needed me. He was having fun with Ana while I worried about him. And it hurts so much to see him reduced to this because of alcohol; he doesn't seem like himself, not the Mason I used to know. I need to stop worrying about him, even though it's hard.
The mind says one thing, but the heart says another.
When I get home, I find my mother asleep on the couch, like a little déjà vu. I smile slightly. She hasn't lost the habit of waiting up for me at night. And like every time, she falls asleep like a log. I take the remote from the couch and turn off the TV. I kiss her forehead and let her rest while I head to my room. I throw myself onto the bed, overwhelmed by despair. I don't know what to do anymore; my head is exploding, filled with too many thoughts. I feel that tightness in my chest again. I get up from the bed and decide to go out for a walk.
Once outside, it's a bit chilly. I put the hoodie on my head and walk through the neighborhood until I arrive in front of the house my dad used to take me to. Memories of my time with him flash before my eyes, and I feel even worse than before. I look up at the sky to hold back my tears and continue my walk back. The cold air brushes against my skin; the rustling of the leaves in the trees keeps me company, and the descending moon makes me feel a little less alone. I reach my front door, but I hear a voice a few steps away from me.
"You know, it's dangerous to walk alone in the middle of the night." I jump, startled. I would recognize that voice anywhere. I turn around suddenly.
"You scared me to death!" I exclaim, hand on my chest. He is there, hidden in the shadows, leaning against the column leading to the porch.
"You're easily scared," he tells me with a frown, slowly exhaling cigarette smoke.
"Did you follow me?" I ask uncertainly, crossing my arms over my chest. He chuckles.
"Did you think I was a stalker?" He steps a little closer, with that cocky attitude.
"Tell me, Jess... why did you come?" He blows out a puff of smoke, this time so close that it hits my face. I cough, annoyed.
"I wouldn't have come if it weren't for Will. He called me, saying you were unwell... and that you were saying my name," I respond, trying to hide the annoyance in my voice.
"You shouldn't listen to him," he replies, almost bored.
"Then why were you saying my name?" I retort.
"I was just drunk," he admits, annoyed.
I grimace. I'm tired of his arrogant behavior.
"What do you want, Mason? Why are you here?" I press, getting more nervous. He steps closer again.
"Because you ran away!" His voice is low, dangerous, and my heart races. The image of him and Ana, sitting on his lap, flashes through my mind, and nausea rises within me. My heartbeat is out of control.
"I thought you were fine," I mumble, breathing heavily. Mason stares intensely at me, his eyes locked on mine. Then, with excruciating slowness, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, moving closer to my face. His breath brushes against my skin.
"You're prettier when you're angry," he whispers, his voice low and sultry. His hand slides down my side, gripping me firmly. I feel his lips barely grazing my neck, with a kiss so light that it's almost imperceptible. My body freezes, paralyzed by his closeness. I can't move or speak. His touch completely destabilizes me. Then, his lips glide along my cheek, stopping a breath away from mine, without kissing me. Suddenly, he pulls away. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply to try to calm myself. He turns and walks away toward the gate.
"What game are you playing, Mason?" I follow him, trying to keep my voice low so as not to wake my mother.
"What are you talking about?" he asks, turning around with an arched eyebrow.
"Come here, making me believe there's still something between us... and then you leave, as if nothing happened?" My words are filled with confusion and anger.
"Don't get any strange ideas, Barbie. I didn't come for that," he replies casually.
"Then why?" I look at him, my voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief.
"I told you, I wanted to know why you came tonight," he retorts, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. It seems like my questions are bothering him.
"You came all this way for nothing," I reply with a scowl.
"I was in the area."
"Yeah, sure. Of course," I look at him suspiciously, then press on: "And why, just a moment ago, did you get so close?" He watches me for a moment, then smiles mockingly.
"Because in leggings, you're very sexy and you affect me," he says in a voice dripping with irony.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment, but anger still lingers.
"You know what? Screw you, Mason. And stay away from me." My tone is sharp. I turn abruptly to leave, but he gets in front of me, blocking my way at the door. Only now do I notice his clothes: he has changed them. They're not the same as before, and the smell of alcohol is gone. I'm confused. I look up at him, bewildered.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks calmly.
"Were you at home changing before coming here?" I ask, curious.
"Yeah, why?" he replies, frowning as he looks at his clothes.
"Nothing... just curious," I mumble, looking away. "Can I go now?" I add, motioning for him to move aside. He grabs my wrist, holding me in front of him.
"I didn't want you to run away. You caught me off guard." This time he's serious. It doesn't seem like alcohol is talking.
"It's not you who made me run away; I just wanted to leave," I say more calmly.
"Why?" he asks, incredulous.
"Are you really asking me why?" I respond, surprised.
"Answer me," he insists. I can't believe it. He knows what I saw... but I don't want to tell him.
"I felt uncomfortable, out of place," I lie.
"Are you sure that's all it is?" His voice becomes warmer, and his warmth starts to blur my senses. I feel our hearts beating close as his hand slowly slides over my hoodie, lifting it slightly on one side.
"Of course, what else could it be?" My breath becomes heavy as he brushes his finger along my exposed side.
"I don't know, maybe... are you jealous of Ana?" he whispers in my ear. He hit the nail on the head. He knows exactly what I'm referring to. But I won't give him the satisfaction and deny everything. "I'm not jealous of someone who means nothing to me," I retort, surprising myself. It's not true. I'm consumed by jealousy. Why did I say that? What's come over me? He loosens his grip, takes a step back, and in his eyes, I see a coldness that wasn't there before. I want to get closer, but I hold back.
"You're cold; you're shivering. You should go back inside," he says, as if he really cares about me.
"I'm fine!" I snap back, firmly. He takes off his leather jacket and puts it on my shoulders. Then he takes a cigarette from the pack and lights it.
"I said I'm..." I start to protest, taking off the jacket to refuse it, but he stops me.
"Keep it; don't be stupid." I'm ready to respond, annoyed, when I notice he's still wearing the necklace I gave him for Valentine's Day. Why is he still wearing it, even after he left me? It's strange, but I avoid asking him. I don't want another answer that could disappoint me. I clutch the jacket tighter without saying anything else.
"Where are you going?" I ask as he heads toward the porch. I follow him.
"I'm sitting down; I want to be comfortable," he replies, settling into the swing in the corner. I lean against the railing in front of him, glaring at him irritably.
"What's up? Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks, inhaling the cigarette smoke.
"You're acting strange. I'm having a hard time understanding you," I confess. The tension between us seems to have eased.
"If you understood me, you'd be disappointed," he admits. I huff and turn away. After a few minutes, I feel him extinguish the cigarette and come closer. He hugs me from behind, enveloping me in his warmth. His scent seeps between the jacket and the hoodie; I feel it on my skin.
"What are you doing?" I ask, puzzled, turning my head slightly toward him.
"I'm cold; I wanted to warm up with you," he confesses, leaving me speechless.
"Did you mistake me for a heater?" I retort, angry. He responds with a smirk and lightly blows on my ear.
"Don't you ever get tired of asking questions?" he huffs, irritated. I pull away, take off the jacket, and shove it against his chest. I didn't want to do it because I felt safe in that jacket, surrounded by his scent. He looks at me, surprised. I turn and head toward the door, this time determined to go inside for real.
"What's gotten into you?" he asks as he follows me. I insert the keys into the lock, turn the key, and pause with my hand on the doorknob.
"You confuse me... and I don't want you to do that," I murmur, almost voiceless. He puts on the jacket, starts to leave, then stops behind me.
"Sweet dreams, Jess," he says, and walks away.
"It's not sweet dreams without you," I whisper, knowing he's already too far away to hear me.