Distraction

Jealousy

The drinks were surely fine but she knew that getting drunk would've gotten her nowhere and after a few cocktails, she gave that up. One of the girls beside her lit up a joint and let Robyn make a puff but that felt disgusting too. The white smoke in front of her eyes could blur a picture of the party in its full action but had no power to dispel her thoughts. Sometimes a broken heart aches even in an illusionary dream.

She was sitting, leaning back at the backrest of the booth, crossing her legs lazily, fully aware of the image she was serving. The girls were talking and discussing something eagerly but she had no urge to listen or answer. Their presence was nothing more than a decoration for her that night. How fucked up, actually.

Her phone was vibrating through her clutch from time to time but she didn't bother to check it. Robyn knew it was him and the further the night was going, the less she cared. She was convinced that if he'd showed up on that party to beg for her mercy, she wouldn't have even blinked. It's just sometimes you get to the point where you just don't give a fuck. Oh, wait, who did say that phrase?

She was feeling a few glances at herself, her main goal that night. It was intriguing, she couldn't lie. All the options to pick were right in front of her. Looked like she was just struggling to make the right decision.

There was this man in a suit, sitting on the other end of the VIP that had been watching her from afar since the moment she appeared. He had a raven short haircut and a neat beard that along with the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt were a pleasant sight to her eyes. He was looking at her with interest and a slight dare, smoking a blunt, giving an impression of a confident, maybe even smug man. Robyn knew he was expecting her to make the first move, that what the pride in his eyes was telling her. But it was exactly what she didn't like. She didn't want to do all the job herself.

The other guy was a little bit younger one with light brown hair, deep brown eyes, and some casual clothes. He was acting as if he wasn't looking at her at all but she knew he was and the thought of how obvious it seemed, was boring to realize. The way he was talking to his friends got Robyn an impression that he was about to make a bet and pick her up to win two grands the next morning. He would've boasted about it the whole month, talking how easy was the win and that he didn't care about her at all. Which would've been complete bullshit.

In that way, she was traveling with her glance, spotting a few handsome faces that were eyeing her but none of them felt that interesting. And that was highly disappointing. She expected a little more from that night or perhaps, her perfect plan had too high standards, and she just had to choose the first random man from that club and get to his place. For some reason, it felt like the only suitable option.

Deciding to switch her attention from searching for it, Robyn's glance changed its direction and all of a sudden landed on Marshall. She spotted him sitting in of the booths not that far away from her and for the first time that evening, she let herself observe him properly. Just out of boredom.

He wasn't looking in her direction. In fact, Marshall was talking with two unfamiliar men that had to be his acquaintances with a serious and focused expression on his face. He was especially good in that full black look that night, she thought. Nothing extraordinary, just his style: cargo pants, a bomber, and a T-shirt underneath it. But along with his blonde short haircut, it suited him just fine. Maybe, even more than fine.

He had a sharp jawline. The lines of his features were manly but young at the same time, and she knew she could easily call him "handsome". He was sitting in a relaxed pose but the way he was talking had something passionate about it. They surely discussed rap, it couldn't be any other way, and she wished she could see his blue eyes at that moment. They usually had something teasing, playful in it, somehow always remaining clear, adding some gentleness to his severe look. Maybe, they were the reason why her glance refused to leave the sight of the man she knew well. Making a sip of her drink watching him and catching herself on the thought, Robyn had to admit the obvious. Marshall was the best picture to look at and nobody in that club could compare.