Evie | H.S |

96. Sympathy for the devil

It was one of those moments where I felt like I'd dodged a bullet.

While my fight or flight had kicked in and seen adrenaline rush through my every vein, it had well and truly worn off by the time I reached my flat to get ready to meet my friends.

And then I just felt scared.

It was a close call. He was undeniably, maddeningly attractive and intimidatingly intriguing.

I could taste a familiar coping mechanism in the back of my throat, like a poison bile at the back of my tongue as it rose up my oesophagus.

And so, I washed it down with a bottle of red wine as I got ready.

Harry had ended things. He hadn't reached out either. So, I was well within my rights to indulge.

And typically I would have thrown myself at someone to fill that void. Anyone, really. I would have enjoyed myself for a brief moment and got lost in something other than my own head; drowning out the noise with someone else's heavy breath at my neck.

But I didn't.

I think maybe it was because there was a niggling part of my mind that said 'what if?'

What if he called to apologise? What if he called to take it all back? What if he was just swept away in the heat of passion and quickly regretted every word?

That's your rose tinted glasses though, Evie.

Because he would have called by now.

Black felt fitting for the evening. A short, satin slip dress and an oversized black blazer paired with a black pair of heeled boots.

My hair that I'd been too stroppy and sad to wash was uncharacteristically slicked back and simple silver chunky hoops went through the few holes in my ears.

With a spritz of perfume in front of the bathroom mirror my eyes ran over my face once more to make sure everything was in place.

My brows were brushed upright and full.

My eyes were lined simply with black, paired with full, black lashes coated over and over in mascara.

My nose had a pop of highlight on the bridge and my freckles still managed peeked through the sheer foundation, bronzer and blush upon my nose and cheeks.

My lips were full and hydrated with a sheer cherry balm, lined simply with a paired liner pencil.

I looked better on the outside than I felt internally.

As my gaze ran over every feature, I noticed the overhead lights glinting off the tiny stones of the fine chain necklace around my neck.

I swallowed thickly and placed a palm over it and let my eyes hood closed.

I'd thought about ripping it off my neck a few days ago. I thought about shoving it into a far corner of a drawer in my bedroom, never to see the light of day.

But like the dainty cherry pendant still hung around my neck, I still hung onto what it represented.

I didn't want to lose her.

But Harry obviously did.

And that made me feel so small, so powerless and so empty.

The jazz bar I'd been invited to was buzzing. Newly opened, too, read an a-framed sign on the street that directed patrons to the unassuming entrance.

Instagram: [evie.may] Aisha sent a new message
PLEASE tell me you're close. Rem hasn't left the bar stool...drooling over her gal and I'm solely occupying a booth up the back. Please save me 🫠