This Is Me

One - Jamaican Me Crazy

"Don't do this, Demi." Max pleads, taking a step closer.

Demi takes a step back until her back is flush against the kitchen island, with nowhere left to go. Swallowing harshly against the lump in the back of her throat, she responds, "I'm sorry, I just think we rushed into this."

"I love you. We're going to get married and start a family and-"

"-And I don't love you." The words trail off her lips just above a whisper. Demi's eyes fixate on the crack on the floor tile, too dismayed to look him in the eyes. Tears flood her eyes before closing them shut, feeling them cascade down her face. She uses her shirt sleeve to wipe them away, collecting a mixture of foundation, mascara, and tears.

"I thought this was what I wanted- who I was- but it's not. I'm sorry, I can't marry you when I know this isn't what I want." She explains, sliding the engagement ring off her ring finger with shaky hands, holding it between her thumb and middle finger.

Demi finally looks up at Max. His eyes are red and irritated, tears filled to the brim like hers. His bottom lip trembles as he tries to contain his emotions.

"Please Demi, don't do this."

Demi musters up enough strength to push herself off of the kitchen island, closing the gap between their bodies, his musky cologne filling the air. She places the engagement ring in the palm of his hand, closing his fingers over it, letting her fingers linger over his for a few seconds. 

Demi stands on the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his scruffy cheek for one last kiss. Her lips linger for a few seconds before pulling away.

"Goodbye, Max."

Demi returns to reality when another glass of club soda and cranberry juice slides across the bar top in her direction. She takes the glass with yearning, taking a sip, the mixture of the bubbly club soda and the tart cranberry juice coating the back of her throat.

Demi is sitting in her usual seat at a local bar in downtown Los Angeles with a non-alcoholic drink, refusing to let sobriety hinder her social life or attempt at getting laid.

She brings the glass to her lips for a long sip, scanning the dance floor for the second time this evening, hoping to capture the eyes of someone worthy to take home. She lowers her glass, swirling her drink around, letting the ice hit the sides of the glass, barely audible over the loud music.

She feels a light tap on her shoulder, turning her attention away from the dance floor and to the person behind her. 

"Hi, I'm Jack." He says, extending his flexed arm, exposing a tattoo of a lion on his forearm. His pecks are stretching the tight fitted white v-neck around his torso, threatening to rip with a simple flex of his muscles.

Demi extends her arm to shake his hand, watching his biceps flex as his grip on her hand tightens.

"Demi," She greets, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

***

Demi stumbles while searching for her thong in the pile of clothes on Jack's bedroom floor. The moonlight through the curtains and red light from his alarm clock is the only illumination in his room. Her underwear is spotted hanging off the radiator in the corner of his room, away from the rest of the clothes that were torn off in a hurry. Demi gets dressed quietly, careful not to make any sudden movement that would wake him. Demi is not the 'cuddle and chat after sex' type of person. She gets what she came for and leaves. Simple as that. She collects her heels, bra, and purse as she tiptoes out his bedroom door, not even bothering to take a final glance before letting the door shut behind her.