Once in my room, I strip off my clothes and step into the shower. The cold tile against my feet sends shocks up my legs. I blast the shower on hot and shiver while I wait for it to warm.
“Stick with the plan, Gia.” I’ve come too far to give up now. My selfish desires come second to him. After I give him everything I can, share with him what I know, then I can concentrate on making a life for myself, one that doesn’t revolve around feelings of guilt and anger. I just need to get close enough to him again to tell him who I am. That’s when I’ll apologize for not saving him when I could and tell him what he doesn’t know. I only hope my secrets will buy his forgiveness.
He walked out on me this morning, but I’m not giving up. Progress was made. I’ll get him alone again, and this time, I’ll tell him everything.
Seven
Fantasy, reality
Dreaming or awake
The division lines are blurred
The visions I can’t shake.
--Ataxia
Mac
It’s Sunday night at The Blackout, a week since my night with Rex. I’ve stayed busy every night, picking up extra shifts since I knew Ataxia wouldn’t be playing and I could avoid seeing Rex, but that didn’t stop me from jogging by his house. His truck was gone early most days, and on Thursday I noticed that his neighbor was back from her trip. I wonder if she could tell that another woman had been in her bed.
I wipe my palms on my apron and take a quick glance at the stage. He’s not here yet. I take a deep breath. My dodging Rex comes to an end tonight, and no matter how many times I pep-talk myself, my heart still leaps in my chest at the thought of facing him after our kiss. My kiss.
It’s getting close to opening, and I still haven’t stocked the backup for my well liquor. Grabbing the key, I head to the stock room to grab the bottles when the back door swings open. My feet are stuck in place, pulse racing, as my eyes adjust to the familiar face. Talon, Ataxia’s drummer, smiles as he walks past me to the stage.
Holy shit. I put my hand to my chest. Calm down. I drop my gaze to the floor and scurry to the back room. Rex could walk in at any minute, and the last place I want to be is welded to the floor in the hallway. My hand shakes as I slide the key in. A few male voices murmur behind me and get louder as if they’re headed my way. My heart kicks behind my ribs.
Thankfully the door opens just before they round the corner, and I rush in the tiny room, shutting the door behind me. I flick on the light and lean my back against the brick wall.
“Pull it together. You’re going to have to face him sooner or later.” I take a few deep breaths and move through the tiny room, loading bottles and supplies on the small cart that’s there.
What if he hates me? I could take his indifference, but his dislike I couldn’t bear. The morning after we were together I’d have sworn there was nothing that could stop me from confronting him. But tonight, at the club together in front of prying eyes, insecurity has dissolved my courage.
“Okay. Breathe. Focus. I can do this.” I grip my hands on the cool metal bar of the cart, preparing to leave the shelter of the supply room. What if I run into him on my way back to the bar? “Hey, Rex, sorry about that kiss. You made it clear you find me repulsive and I pushed myself on you anyway. Ugh . . . this is humiliating.”
Pressing my ear against the door, I hear only the faint sound of a few of the cocktail servers talking. No deep male voices. Perfect. If I can just avoid him until I get behind the bar, I should be good for the night. That’ll give me plenty of time to go over the speech I’d planned all week in my head. Yeah, then I can pull him aside after his show and apologize. Head down, beeline to the bar. I’ve got an entire shift to work out the rest.
I twist the handle and push the door, but it doesn’t move. What? I wiggle it and push again. It doesn’t budge.
“Stuck.” A flicker of panic ticks in my chest. I try a few different combinations of pushing and wiggling, but to no avail.
Dammit. A weight settles in my chest and chills race over my body. The walls seem to twist and shrink all around me. Breathe and relax. This isn’t the same. This is not the same.
I blow out a long breath and shove back my anxiety to pull up my rational thinking.
There’s no lock on the inside, so somehow it’s locked me in from the outside. Right, just like when I was a kid. Locked in the closet for days. No light. Cramped space. Little air. Fuck!
The panic ignites and floods my system. My stomach rolls, and dizziness has me bracing my weight against the door.
“Oh God, please. Not here. I can’t freak out here.” The familiar feeling of my racing heart and sweat-dampened skin mainlines adrenaline through my veins.
Let me out. I’ve got to get out!
My fist slams against the wooden door. Once, twice, and a third.
“Hello!” My one spoken word cracks with emotion. “Anyone out there?”
I press my ear to the door again. Silence. Shit!