For most of my adult life, I avoided getting drunk altogether. Between having an addict for a mother, along with hating the feeling of losing control, I saw no reason to drink to the point of being obliterated.
And this afternoon...I'm adding one more reason to that list.
It makes you act like a dumbass and say stupid fucking things.
Whoever said that a drunk mind speaks sober thoughts...was clearly still drunk off their ass.
Tyrone told me everything I said last night...not even bothering to mince words.
I never had any intention of seeing or talking to Alyssa again.
But...I do owe her an apology for how I behaved last night.
Which is why I'm currently making my way back to the bar that Alyssa now works at.
If I'm being honest, a small part of me was hoping she wasn't working now so I wouldn't have to go through with this.
But here she is, wiping down the surfaces of the almost empty bar. She's wearing a black t-shirt with the name 'Finnley's' written across it in white lettering and every time she moves I see a tiny sliver of her toned abdomen.
She's also wearing pants now.
Because I'm a dick.
Shane nudges her and she looks up at me. Her expression tells me that I'm the last person she ever expected to see walk through that door. Shane leans down and whispers something in her ear. She shakes her head and he begrudgingly walks away...but not before giving me a dirty look.
Guess he doesn't like me all that much anymore.
I take a cautious seat at the bar and look around a little. It's not a big place, pretty small actually...but it does have a very laid back vibe going for it. It's definitely not one of those flashy bars that you hear about celebrities going to.
That's when I take another look at her hair.
It's a bit longer now and very dark, almost jet black.
I'm not going to tell her...because then I'd have to acknowledge the fact that I still, somewhere deep inside of me; have feelings for her...but I like it. Really like it.
I mean, she looked great as a blonde. But the dark hair?
It makes her hazel eyes pop even more and it complements her ivory skin.
She makes her way over to me after finishing up with the only other customer in the place.
I don't miss the way her smile falls and her full lips form a tight line. Or the way she lifts her chin right before she walks over to me like she's preparing herself, putting on a brave face.
And I definitely don't miss the look of sadness in her eyes before they turn intense. “Whiskey?” she asks.
I detect a hint of snarkiness in her tone and I'm surprised to find that I actually miss her sassy side. Now that she's standing right in front of me, there's a lot of things I find I miss about her.
But I have to force myself not to focus on that because if I do...I'll be reminded of the things I hate about her as well.
Like what she did to me...how she hurt me.
I fucking hate that she hurt me.
Almost as much as I hate that I'm never going to kiss those lips or see that dimple again.
I meet her gaze. “No...I think I had enough to drink for a lifetime last night.” I give her a smile. “And if I want more, I can always wring out the clothes I wore last night, right?”
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. I can't tell if it's because she's recalling the memory, or smiling at my lame-ass attempt to break the ice.
A part of me is hoping for the former because a part of me is proud of her for standing up for herself and throwing the whiskey right in my face.
Alyssa's always been finicky when it comes to that sort of thing. Sometimes she defends herself...sometimes she runs.
But she's not running now, which is good. Because I really do owe her that apology. “I'm sorry, Alyssa. There's no excuse for the way I acted or the things I said last night, so I'm not going to waste your time giving you any. I was wrong. Plain and simple.”
There, I said it. Now my guard can go back up and I can walk away from her.
She inhales deeply and bites her bottom lip. “I accept your apology. I know it wasn't easy to have to see me again.”
She pauses, appearing to be debating the next words out of her mouth. “I wanted to look pretty,” she whispers, looking down at the floor.
I have no idea what she's talking about. “Pardon?”
“The reason I was wearing a skirt,” she says. “I, um. I wasn't looking for attention or anything. I wasn't trying to put it all out there like you said.”
I open my mouth to apologize again, but she continues, “I haven't worn a skirt or a dress in over three months. I didn't want any reminders of the person I used to be...or the things I used to do. But last night, for whatever reason, I wanted to look pretty.” She pauses and draws in a shaky breath. “I realized it was a bad idea when a group of guys kept asking me for the bottles of beer that we keep in the cooler instead of what was on tap. Shane had an emergency and it was too late to change since I was by myself and it was getting packed.”
Her brow wrinkles. “I heard your voice and it made me happy. But, then I heard the things you were saying about me. And whether I liked it or not, I had to accept that there were people in that bar who might have shared your thoughts. Maybe even some who thought I was a whore.”
She looks me in the eyes. “But I'm not a whore, Jackson.” She gives me a small shrug. “I just wanted to tell you that.”
There are moments in your life that you'll never forget. Some good, some bad, some life-changing.
However, I never thought it was possible to fall in love with a single moment.
Especially a moment with a person who's caused you so much pain.
Especially when the moment puts you in your place for being a monumental asshole.
But this moment right here?
I love this moment.
Despite what happened between us in the past, I still love this moment.
There's so much strength, growth and beauty in this single moment pouring out from her.... I almost don't want to ruin it by talking.
But I have to, if for nothing else then to say, “You're right, Alyssa. You're not a whore. You never were.” I wipe the tear from her cheek with my thumb and stand up. “I was wrong for the things I said last night. And I'm sorry.”
I give her one last smile before I walk away.
Then I put my armor up because I have to.
I'm stepping out the door when I hear Alyssa's footsteps behind me. “Jackson, wait. Please.” I turn around and she grabs my hand and leads me to a small corner of the bar, giving us more privacy.
“I'm sorry,” she says.
I open my mouth to stop her, because although the moment we just shared was incredible, it doesn't erase what happened.
And it doesn't change the fact that I'm still irate with her about it.
“Please, I'm begging you to just hear me out,” she pleads. I go to turn away, but she tugs on my hand. “Ford was never my boyfriend. I was never with him!” she blurts.
“Although, there was a point in my life when I thought I wanted that,” she amends.
I pull my hand away and begin walking again. “I shouldn't have lied to you about him being in my life,” she calls out. “But if you knew about the things between us. The things that went on.”