I knew from the moment I stepped into this clamorous room filled with the odious beats of the speakers and the sweaty bodies sliding onto each other that I needed to get away right off the bat.
Sitting on a bar stool in a random club in New York City on a Friday night isn't particularly what I see myself doing in lieu of working my butt off. I would most likely prefer to just be in my own Superman short shorts and sports bra, lying down on my favorite leather black recliner, watching reruns of Friends or Gossip Girl. Either that or I just fall asleep whilst listening to the songs from The 1975.
But this Friday night, I decided to change my routine.
"Want another one?" the familiar voice of the friendly bartender asked me, flashing me a cordial smile as he lifts up a cold beer.
I nodded. "Hit me."
"Don't you have a guardian with you?" He asks, looking concerned. The man clad in black screwed open the beer cap and slid the opened beer towards me as I caught it reflexively.
I shook my head, not bothering to dignify his question with a response. I immediately quaffed the liquid down my throat, somehow indulging the pain that it had inflicted on me. I could vaguely remember how I got here anymore, or where my car is, or whether or not I should decide if my life is officially over. All I know is that I needed to forget about Leigh.
I grumbled in a discordant manner when the bartender decided to leave me alone in solitude and started to accommodate other customers this time. I was silently thankful people weren't noticing that my head is in shambles. I languidly laid my arms on the countertop and rested my head on them, taking a deep breath.
Leigh-Anne Pinnock.
Just hearing myself say her name makes me wanna barf on anybody in this room. I can't believe she broke things off with me on our third anniversary. I just can't believe anything anymore. I'm not accustomed to being dumped, not accustomed to being single all because of that bitch telling me that I'm not good enough for her.
I then heard the stool beside me creak, indicating that someone had sat down beside me. I turned my head to greet the stranger who was evidently bustling as she digs through the pocket of her trench coat and slamming bills on the wooden countertop, grabbing the bartender's attention as he swooped in front of her.
"I want red wine. Preferably Josh Cellar's," the woman practically demanded from him.
The bartender nodded before proceeding to do what he's told. The woman, on the other hand, raked her slender fingers through her blonde waves and shook them before haphazardly resting them on her shoulder. She looked frustrated with her eyebrows furrowed as she divests herself of her trench coat, exposing her porcelain skin on her arms and casting the coat on the chair beside her.
I was too busy probably staring blatantly at her, too immersed in what I'm doing that I even caught her eyes flicking towards me. A smile I could recognize as smug had been thrown my way as she remained her eye contact.
My eyes suddenly felt glazed over and I hazily sat straight, breaking eye contact. I faced the bar and cleared my throat silently as I brought the rim of my beverage to my lips, taking a swig from it. At the corner of my eyes I see her still facing towards me as she lifts a thumb and rubbing her chin.
"You know, gawking at me won't get you anywhere," she says. Her voice was galvanizing and electrical I could feel it penetrating through me and sending a thousand jolts in my spine.
I cleared my throat, straightened my back, and palmed the body of my beer, trying to stay on the wagon but the brewski had clearly made a tremendous impact on me as I feel myself opening my mouth and closing it, unsure of what to say. It seemed like drunk Jade Thirlwall isn't my alter ego because apparently she's not good with words anymore.
