I slapped the cigarettes pack against my hand before pulling one out and sticking it between my lips. They were cheap, not my favorite kind, but I needed something tonight and these were better than nothing.
Lighting it, I sucked the poisoned air down my throat, letting it relax my tense muscles. He was the problem. He was always the problem.
"How was your day, baby?" he'd asked me, dropping his things. I'd ignored the mess at the door, the mess he would ask me to clean up later saying I never do anything around here.
I'd smiled, actually happy. I had a break-through with the story I was writing, finally understanding a character. I knew what they wanted, and I was happy but trying to hide my jealousy.
When I shared my happiness with him, Bradley nodded, staring at me blankly. "Nice," he'd responded, and I felt myself deflate. Here I was, pumped and excited over finally getting something right and he isn't even the least bit interested.
"Don't you want to know what it is?" I had asked.
"Kimber, I love you, but I want to relax right now. I'm going to go in the bedroom and watch TV." He made his way to the hallway, pausing to look at the kitchen. I knew he saw dishes in the sink from where I ate lunch and the empty stove. "Baby, what did you do all day?"
I had swallowed the lump burning in my throat. "I wrote."
He'd shook his head, irritation and disappointment clear on his face.
I left soon after that, not bothering to send him a text I was going out. My phone buzzed and I took the shot of tequila that I had ordered moments before after seeing it was him.
"Rough day?" the man behind the counter asked.
"Rough couple years," I responded, taking a drag.
"Gin, please."
A man sat on the stool beside me, looking about as broken as I felt. His shoulders were slumped-well, no, his whole body was slumped-exhaustion clear in his features. Messy brown hair was pushed away from his face, although a strand or two would fall forward, laying on his forehead.
"Rough day?" I repeated the words of the bartender.
The man glanced at me, his hazel eyes settling on mine. "You could say that."
I ordered three more shots and threw them back, trying not to cringe at their bitter taste. The man drank his gin in one gulp, putting the glass back on the bar and asking for a refill. I blinked at his actions.
"Very rough day," I muttered under my breath.
"It can't be much competition to your couple years."
I tried not to show my shock that he was speaking to me. He was very handsome and very intimidating but for some reason, I couldn't stop myself. I smiled, putting my arm on the counter as I leaned closer to him. "You get used to it. The disappointment. The defeat. Then it becomes the normal. But some days are worse than others and are a reminder of how rough it really is."
"For a girl who's drunk," the man said, taking a sip of his refilled gin, "you're very insightful."
"I'm not drunk."
"Hmm, I would believe that if you were aware of what was going on around you," he said, a smirk coating his lips like he caught me.
"What? You mean the men surrounding the bar whispering about me." I raised my brows, giving him another smile. "I know they've been watching me throw back numerous shots. I also know they have impressed looks on their faces because I can handle my liquor. They're into it. And I'm aware of it."
The smirk wiped off his face and a look of shock crossed it instead. "Aiden." He stuck out his hand for me to shake.
"Kimber."
"What brings you to New York, Kimber?"
Waving the bartender over, he set four more shots in front of me. I throw two of them back, leaving the other two for later. "Big dreams. Want to be an author and New York is the closest you can get to the publishing industry without actually being in it. You?"
"Do you like it?" he looked at me with his face resting on his fist and narrowed eyes. My eyes widened. He didn't take the opportunity to make the conversation all about himself. It slightly bugged me that he completely ignored my question, but I was secretly pleased that someone was inquiring about me for once.
My eyebrows pulled together as I looked at him. I had sent in multiple pieces to be published but none of them took. I was avoiding my home-well, more specifically the man who unfortunately lived with me. And when I did finally decide to get out and go to my favorite bar, traffic was more backed up than a sick kid's nose.
"No."
His eyebrows shoot up. "No?" I shake my head, a little surprised I admitted that to a complete stranger. "Why not?"
The corner of my lips pulled up and I decided not going to spill my guts to this guy who could be trying to take advantage of me. "Well," I start, "traffic sucks. If you're planning on going somewhere, you have to account for traffic which could add an extra twenty minutes to your ride. I hate it."
"Is that all?" He laughed a little, taking another sip of his gin. "Just the traffic."
I stare at him for a minute, biting my lip. "There's that and a lot of the people here are pricks."
"You have a boyfriend."
"No."
The lie rolled off my tongue easily. I wasn't going to allow myself to think about him. I came here to get away from him.
"Really?" his eyes narrowed.
I smiled, rolling my eyes, hating myself that I felt guilty about lying when he had treated me like trash less than thirty minutes ago. "I do actually."
His eyes lit up, obviously intrigued. He brings the drink up to his lips that are curved into a smile, taking a sip. "Why deny it?"
"He isn't particularly fond of me making new friends. What about you?" I ask, laying my hand on his arm, leaning in close like I'm about to tell him a secret. "Do you like New York?"
Aiden's eyes flicked down to my hand, then back up to my eyes. I swallowed the insecurity that was rising inside of me and offered him a small encouraging smile. He wet his lips as his smile grew. "It's quite big."
"It's big?"
"And busy."
I pull away, shaking my head. "There's got to be something you specifically like about it. Or specifically hate."
"I guess," his lips pulled into his mouth as his eyes wondered the room before settling back on me, "I like the people."
"What about the people?" I asked with raise brows, knowing all the ones I've come to know are horrible.
"I don't know, they just-."
My eyes lit up as I heard a familiar voice. "If you don't get out on the dance floor, I will personally drag you there."
I turned, finding the only bearable person in New York pulling me away from the handsome man at the bar. "Heather, I was in the middle of a conversation," I say, laughing.
"With a very handsome man, I might add." Heather looks over my shoulder, a smirk apparent on her face. "He looking at you, but it doesn't matter. You texted me you were sad, and your piece of trash boyfriend wasn't with you so here I am. We're going to dance and drink and you're going to feel better."
We're on the outskirts of the dance floor, which does not bother me. I would prefer not to be in the middle of a bunch of sweaty bodies and handsy men.
"This is, like, you're favorite song. Dance." Heather pushes me.
Slowly, I warm up to the music, loosing myself in the words and the beat. It's nice and comforting, however, I still find myself looking over my shoulder at Aiden, smiling coyly. I'm surprised to find him still watching me and not involved in a conversation with some other girl. Many have tried, there's a handful of them lurking around his place at the bar like sharks waiting to attack. But whenever one of them approaches, he turns them down and focuses his attention back on me.
Heather doesn't allow me to leave her side for the rest of the night. Any other time, I would be grateful but tonight-or more, this morning-I want nothing more to get back to my conversation with the interesting man at the bar.
The bar was closing soon. Heather and I were still dancing, my limbs sore. Aiden still sat at the bar, watching.
"I have to go to the bathroom," I said, pulling away from her. "I'll be right back."
In the bathroom, I grabbed a paper towel before heading back into the chaos of the bar.
"Do you have a pen?" I asked the bartender, who pulled a pen out of his pocket.
I scribbled on the paper towel, folding it nicely. Walking over to Aiden's place at the bar, he looked startled to see me in front of him. Before he could say anything, I slipped the paper into his jacket pocket and walked away.
"I'm ready to leave," I said, finding Heather.
"You want to crash at my place tonight?"
I nodded, not wanting to face the emotional abuse and two hour long yelling match tonight. As we got to the entrance, I turned back meeting eyes with the handsome man at the bar. I winked, smiling and then left, disappearing into the thick crowd of people that loitered outside.