Chasing the Tide
Page 78
I know.
His simple reply did little to reassure me.
Chapter Twenty-three
-Ellie-
I woke up from the dream, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest.
My apartment was quiet. The room still dark.
I tried to close my eyes and will myself back to sleep but I couldn’t.
My mind turning over the images of my dream, mulling them over obsessively.
I ran my hand down my face, wincing as my fingers made contact with the sore spot on my cheek.
I was arrested two days ago for criminal damage. The cop had been less than gentle when he had cuffed me and slammed me down on the hood of the police cruiser. My face had collided with the hood of the car, resulting in a nasty bruise.
Dania had screeched and screamed about police brutality when she had come to pick me up from the precinct after posting my bail.
I had done a lot of stupid things over the years. This was just the last in a long line of poor decisions.
I rolled over onto my side and stared out into the murky shadows.
I hadn’t thought of him for a long time. I had purposefully evicted him from my mind and my hardened heart.
So why was it that my subconscious mind found its way back to him now?
I swung my legs over the side of my bed and sat up, turning on the bedside lamp.
I picked up the tiny Parthenon that I had bought on a whim.
It was pretty and detailed and I liked how it fit in the palm of my hand.
Since receiving it I had thought about him more than I was comfortable with. Maybe it reminded me of watching him draw in his notebooks for hours.
Whatever the reason, I was here, wide-awake. And it was all his fault.
Because I had dreamt of Flynn.
The harder I tried to remember, the quicker the images faded. Glimpses of his face. Memories of touching his hand and his soft, shy smiles.
The recollections of fluttery warmth in my belly whenever we were together.
He always came back to me when I least expected it.
When I had convinced my head and my heart to never think…to never feel anything for him again.
But he was there. Wedged deep. Unmoving.
In the silence of the early morning, I let myself feel something that wasn’t hatred and rage.
It was something quieter. Something dangerous.
And it was only, ever for him.
But I squashed it under the heaviness of bitter resentment and it washed away the good. The warmth.
It was like it was never there.
**
“I’m stuffed!” Nadine groaned, patting her belly. I tried to finish my dinner without hurling my fork at the guys sitting at the table beside us who had been checking us out since we arrived.
Nadine had insisted on getting dolled up. I hadn’t brought much in the way of clothing, so she lent me a low cut, black shirt, which I paired with my dark skinny jeans and black boots.
I felt more than a little uncomfortable and had spent most of the evening pulling the neck of my shirt up over my boobs. Nadine wasn’t quite as well endowed as I was in that department.
As bummed as I had been when I arrived, I enjoyed exploring her neighborhood. It was vibrant and exciting. There was a lot going on and it was hard to find a quiet place. Even the coffee shops and record stores had a vibe that was full of energy. I could see why Nadine enjoyed living there.
Even if she was apparently living off Raman and using single ply toilet paper.
“It’s totally worth it, Ells!” she had claimed and I could tell she meant it.
I handed the waitress my empty plate and ordered another whiskey sour. I kept checking my phone as though Flynn would magically develop less of an aversion to texting and message me. But there was nothing but radio silence.
I tried not to obsess about Flynn and how he was feeling. The whole point of this trip was I needed distance. I needed to sort through this gnawing doubt that refused to go away. Doubt that seemed compounded the longer I lived in Wellston.
But why was it that now I was here, in freaking New York City, I couldn’t think of anything but what I had left behind?
“I never get to eat like this. My friends from work all seem to be dieting or consume nothing but salad,” Nadine laughed, rolling her eyes.
“Salads are for pussies,” I muttered, finishing my whiskey sour.
“And rabbits,” Nadine agreed. “You want to hang out longer or head back—oh hello,”
The guys who had been making it their mission to watch us all evening had finally grown some balls and decided now was their time to approach. Nadine’s eyes went gooey as she took in the classic good looks of the guy who stood behind her.
“Care if we join you?” the guy asked, sitting down without an invitation. His friend, who was just as good looking joined him, sitting a little too close to me for my tastes. I had certain requirements when it came to personal space. Not being able to smell his beer breath being one of them.
“I’m Jim,” one of the guys said to Nadine who was putting on her flirt face.
“I’m Nadine and this is my friend Ellie. She’s up for the weekend visiting,” she said, batting her eyelashes in a way I thought was reserved for really bad chick movies.
The guy with no respect for my body bubble leaned in close. “Hi Ellie, I’m Quinn.”
“Quinn? Who the hell names their kid Quinn?” I asked, forgetting to censor myself.
The guy laughed, clearly not insulted in the slightest. “It’s a family name, I didn’t choose it.”
He was flirting with me. He was looking at me like I was a thick, juicy steak and he hadn’t eaten in a year.
His simple reply did little to reassure me.
Chapter Twenty-three
-Ellie-
I woke up from the dream, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest.
My apartment was quiet. The room still dark.
I tried to close my eyes and will myself back to sleep but I couldn’t.
My mind turning over the images of my dream, mulling them over obsessively.
I ran my hand down my face, wincing as my fingers made contact with the sore spot on my cheek.
I was arrested two days ago for criminal damage. The cop had been less than gentle when he had cuffed me and slammed me down on the hood of the police cruiser. My face had collided with the hood of the car, resulting in a nasty bruise.
Dania had screeched and screamed about police brutality when she had come to pick me up from the precinct after posting my bail.
I had done a lot of stupid things over the years. This was just the last in a long line of poor decisions.
I rolled over onto my side and stared out into the murky shadows.
I hadn’t thought of him for a long time. I had purposefully evicted him from my mind and my hardened heart.
So why was it that my subconscious mind found its way back to him now?
I swung my legs over the side of my bed and sat up, turning on the bedside lamp.
I picked up the tiny Parthenon that I had bought on a whim.
It was pretty and detailed and I liked how it fit in the palm of my hand.
Since receiving it I had thought about him more than I was comfortable with. Maybe it reminded me of watching him draw in his notebooks for hours.
Whatever the reason, I was here, wide-awake. And it was all his fault.
Because I had dreamt of Flynn.
The harder I tried to remember, the quicker the images faded. Glimpses of his face. Memories of touching his hand and his soft, shy smiles.
The recollections of fluttery warmth in my belly whenever we were together.
He always came back to me when I least expected it.
When I had convinced my head and my heart to never think…to never feel anything for him again.
But he was there. Wedged deep. Unmoving.
In the silence of the early morning, I let myself feel something that wasn’t hatred and rage.
It was something quieter. Something dangerous.
And it was only, ever for him.
But I squashed it under the heaviness of bitter resentment and it washed away the good. The warmth.
It was like it was never there.
**
“I’m stuffed!” Nadine groaned, patting her belly. I tried to finish my dinner without hurling my fork at the guys sitting at the table beside us who had been checking us out since we arrived.
Nadine had insisted on getting dolled up. I hadn’t brought much in the way of clothing, so she lent me a low cut, black shirt, which I paired with my dark skinny jeans and black boots.
I felt more than a little uncomfortable and had spent most of the evening pulling the neck of my shirt up over my boobs. Nadine wasn’t quite as well endowed as I was in that department.
As bummed as I had been when I arrived, I enjoyed exploring her neighborhood. It was vibrant and exciting. There was a lot going on and it was hard to find a quiet place. Even the coffee shops and record stores had a vibe that was full of energy. I could see why Nadine enjoyed living there.
Even if she was apparently living off Raman and using single ply toilet paper.
“It’s totally worth it, Ells!” she had claimed and I could tell she meant it.
I handed the waitress my empty plate and ordered another whiskey sour. I kept checking my phone as though Flynn would magically develop less of an aversion to texting and message me. But there was nothing but radio silence.
I tried not to obsess about Flynn and how he was feeling. The whole point of this trip was I needed distance. I needed to sort through this gnawing doubt that refused to go away. Doubt that seemed compounded the longer I lived in Wellston.
But why was it that now I was here, in freaking New York City, I couldn’t think of anything but what I had left behind?
“I never get to eat like this. My friends from work all seem to be dieting or consume nothing but salad,” Nadine laughed, rolling her eyes.
“Salads are for pussies,” I muttered, finishing my whiskey sour.
“And rabbits,” Nadine agreed. “You want to hang out longer or head back—oh hello,”
The guys who had been making it their mission to watch us all evening had finally grown some balls and decided now was their time to approach. Nadine’s eyes went gooey as she took in the classic good looks of the guy who stood behind her.
“Care if we join you?” the guy asked, sitting down without an invitation. His friend, who was just as good looking joined him, sitting a little too close to me for my tastes. I had certain requirements when it came to personal space. Not being able to smell his beer breath being one of them.
“I’m Jim,” one of the guys said to Nadine who was putting on her flirt face.
“I’m Nadine and this is my friend Ellie. She’s up for the weekend visiting,” she said, batting her eyelashes in a way I thought was reserved for really bad chick movies.
The guy with no respect for my body bubble leaned in close. “Hi Ellie, I’m Quinn.”
“Quinn? Who the hell names their kid Quinn?” I asked, forgetting to censor myself.
The guy laughed, clearly not insulted in the slightest. “It’s a family name, I didn’t choose it.”
He was flirting with me. He was looking at me like I was a thick, juicy steak and he hadn’t eaten in a year.
