Trace of Innocence | Sweet and Sour (Book 4)

Chapter 11

(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 11 - With Him, Slowdancing)

I break away from her and look down at the floor.

"Sorry - you just... you looked upset... I didn't mean to... I shouldn't..."

I'm stammering; stumbling over my words, unable to articulate myself properly while she is standing this close to me, yet finitely out of reach.

"It's fine," she says timidly.

I miss you. I'm sorry. This whole thing is such a mess, you wouldn't believe me if I told you even half of it. I've been hurt and betrayed by people I trusted and I'm struggling to cope with it. I'm fed up of moping around and I'm boring myself going over and over it, but I can't let go. I'm supposed to be staying away from you but I can't even stick to my own rules. Help me. Please.

"How are you?" I say out loud.

"Fine. You?"

Falling apart. Battling with guilt and self-loathing. Desperately alone.

"Good, yeah," I nod.

"Good."

My hands are twitching uncomfortably at my sides. I am aching to touch her again, to hold her and never let her go. I'm weakening.

Gary arrives and casts me a disdainful look, and then leans into Jess and says something in her ear that looks suspiciously like, 'What's he doing here?'

It's fine, mate. I'm a celebrity. We don't have feelings.

Jess doesn't answer him. She is looking at me, her eyes locked on mine. Gary follows her gaze, and reluctantly gives me a brief nod of acknowledgement before turning back to her again. I can tell by his stance that he is trying to mark his territory. His body is angled towards Jess, positioned between me and her, as though trying to exclude me. I get it.

I hate him for being better for her than me. I hate him for being everything I am not: Uncomplicated. At her side. Her friend. I'm trying not to let my feelings show, but if I stand here any longer I won't be able to keep them in.

"Take care, yeah?" I mumble, and quickly turn away, slipping between the heaving crowd, eager to put some distance between us.

I scuttle back to our booth and slide in next to Niall.

"Where have you been?" he asks. His eyes are droopy. He's drunk.

I need to be drunk, too. I need to get completely off my face, to blot out the stabbing pain in my heart that is refusing to let up.

"Where are those shots?" I shout, over the pounding bass. "Can we get some more of them?"

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Niall exclaims in approval, and he catches the waiter's eye almost immediately and asks for another tray of shots.

Callie's stare is piercing right through me, and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to avoid catching her eye. I make a huge fuss when the shots arrive, laughing heartily at something Niall says but I don't actually hear, and then clink glasses with him before tipping the burning liquid down the back of my throat. It's fuckıng rank. Almost as rank as that cherry brandy I drank at the house party with Jess.

And we're back to Jess again. This stuff is supposed to be driving her from my mind, not reminding me of her and accentuating my pain.

"You staying in a hotel tonight, or at home?" Niall asks.

"At home. I wasn't even supposed to be out tonight," I tell him.

Sometimes we stay in hotels after nights out, even though we're in London. When the paps know we're likely to be heading home they wait outside our houses, hoping for pictures of us staggering in, completely inebriated, at five a.m. Not good for our image, especially if we have female company that particular night.