by Azzi, Gina
“I don’t sound like that. My voice is much, much throatier.”
“Oh, Jesus.” I round the bar and climb onto a barstool. Kicking the toes of my sneakers against the underside of the bar, I message back.
Me: Hey, thanks for reach out. It’s been a tough week, but I’m doing okay. How are you? How’s filming going?
Exhaling, I hit Send. Behind the bar, Charlie cheers.
We spend the next ten minutes waiting for a response.
“He’s probably filming.” Charlie points out.
“Yeah.” I agree, dragging myself off the barstool and back to cleaning bottles.
* * *
Five hours later, I’m annoyed, sad, and confused by Eli’s lack of a response. Why would he message me if he wasn’t going to even engage in a conversation?
Oh my God, why do I care so much? Why do I keep doing this to myself? The guy kicked me off the island, he voted me out, and now I’m sitting around like a lovesick tween praying he texts?
I need a life. I literally need a life.
I dial Charlie.
“What’s going on?” She asks as soon as she picks up.
“Let’s go out tonight.”
“Out? Like, grab a drink at Shooters?”
“No.” I stare at myself in the mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door. “Like, out out. Dancing at a dark club that reeks of bad decisions and too much perfume. Drinking overpriced cocktails that you could make better in your sleep. That kind of out.”
“When you put it like that, how can I say no?”
I snort. “I need to get out of my room. I can’t keep staring at my phone. Lush at 11?”
“Pick you up 10:30, bish. Better wear something sexy.”
I open my closet door, grateful Dad never packed up my room even though I’ve been out of the house for several years. All the miniskirts and tiny dresses from my college days still hang inside. “I got some good throwbacks.”
Charlie laughs. “Same. See you in a bit.”
* * *
“Damn, hottie.” Charlie honks her horn in a wild beat as I slip into her car.
“Hey, quiet down out there!” Dad shouts from the front door, giving us a wave as I slam the passenger door closed.
“Later, Papa Clark!” Charlie shouts out the open window. She toots the horn again and drives off, cranking up the volume on the song she’s listening to. I feel a shiver, so I close the window and place my fingers against the heat vents.
“It’s freezing out.”
“Yeah, when you’re wearing that.” Charlie glances at me and smirks. “Girl, you look sexy as fuck.”
“Oh, this ol’ thing?” I gesture toward my short, tight, curve-hugging black dress with three-quarter sleeves. “I’ve had it for ages.”
Charlie chuckles. “I know, I was with you when you bought it for your twenty-first birthday bash.”
Laughing, I drop my head back against the headrest and wrap my fingers into my scarf. “This is all I’ve got for protection from the cold so we better not have to stand in line.”
“Relax. I know a guy.”
“You know a guy?”
Charlie shoots me a secretive wink as she pulls onto The Kennedy. “I’m going to leave my car there, so I’m sleeping at your place tonight. Let’s Uber back together.”
“We should have taken an Uber there. Why’d you drive again?”
Charlie shrugs, “I don’t know. Anyway, I’m excited we’re going out. It feels like it’s been ages.”
“It has been.”
“True. Goals for tonight?”
“Drink all the tequila. Forget all the Eli drama.”
“Still no message?”
“Nothing. It’s not even marked as read.”
“Ouch.”
“I know.” I humph, glaring out the window. “I just miss him. And I hate that I miss him. I’m angry that he voted me off the island.”
“He didn’t—”
“He did. But I’m annoyed with myself that I care this much. That I’m sitting around waiting for him to text me like some lovesick high schooler. The last time we had sex I thought we were moving forward. Now, I’m back in Chicago and he’s lying on a freaking beach. Gah! I don’t get him.”
“Don’t go trying to figure men out. Haven’t you ever heard of Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus?”
“I remember your mom owning a copy.”
“Exactly. But I still think Eli really cares about you. He told you he loves you. You don’t just turn off your feelings like that. He’s probably processing. And scared out of his mind.”
“Yeah, well, so am I.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“He voted me off the island!”
“Oh, simmer down, you’re not on Survivor.”
“I just…need to stop thinking about him. Obsessing over him. I know I haven’t really been talking about him but it’s because… I can’t.”
“Fair enough. I got you. Tequila, no drama. Anything else?”
“Dance our asses off.”
“Done.” Charlie pulls into a parking lot near Lush. “Tonight, we forget all the stupid shit and just have a good time. Like old times. Before your diagnosis, and Eli, before my dad passed and my life imploded. Tonight, we’re just college kids again.”
I stare at her and smile softly. Wouldn’t it be great to escape back to a simpler time? Back when Charlie and I were concerned over what Jell-O flavor made for the best shots and if we were damaging our hair by straightening it every day? “I like this plan.”
“Good. Let’s take a quick selfie for The Gram.” She pulls out her phone and leans over the center console. Uploading the photo, she grins at me. “And run for the club on three.”
“Let the night begin.” I dart from the passenger seat as she shouts after me.
Charlie catches up, links her arm with mine and navigates us toward a back entrance into Lush. Offering the security guy a quick wave and a grin, we’re ushered inside. Immediately, the dark of the club envelops us, the beat pulsing through the air with the unmistakable energy of good times, questionable decisions, and imminent hangovers.
Oh, Chicago nightlife, how I’ve missed you.
Charlie tugs me along, weaving us through the crowds of people, huddled in groups of shouting friends and swaying bodies. She steps up to the bar and tosses the bartender a wink. I stare at her, my mouth dropping open. “Seems you’ve been busy while I’ve been gone.”
Charlie bats her eyelashes at me. “I had to keep myself entertained.”
“Don’t even tell me you’ve replaced me with some girl with real mermaid hair who’s going to pop up any second and declare herself your soul sister.”
“Never!” Charlie mock gasps, a hand flying to her chest. “I’ve come here a few times with Evan.”
“Oh my God. You guys are in a non-relationship like me and Eli! What’s happening now?” I lean in closer, so ready for the details.
“What’s not happening now?”
My eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. “Tell me everything!”
Charlie laughs and orders a double round of shots from the bartender. “I don’t know where we stand. Ever since that night, I don’t really trust him. But I still like being with him. He’s fun and he makes me forget all the stupid shit…” She shrugs, then shakes her head. “No. No drama tonight. Nuh-uh.” She pushes a shot glass in my direction and slides her card over the bar to start a tab. “Drink up. Then, we dance.”
Charlie and I clink our glasses together before we toss back two shots of Patron. “Charlie—” I start, shouting over the music, hoping to find out more about her and Evan.
Instead, she tips her head toward the dance floor, practically vibrating with the energy from the partygoers. “Let’s dance!”
She guides me out to the center. Within moments we’re swallowed up by the swarm of bodies grinding to the beat.
I close my eyes and let the music consume me. Memories of my first night out in the Seychelle
s flicker though my mind.
The scent of coconut mixed with sea salt. The tanginess of the margaritas. Laurence’s laughter. The warmth and bursts of colors and beat of the drums.
“One more.” Charlie presses another shot glass into my hand. I have no idea where she got it since we’re in the middle of the dance floor, but then I see the shot girls walking around with overflowing trays. Downing the little tube, I smack my lips and shake my hips, inviting the night to roll over me.
Charlie’s hands intertwine with mine as we lift our arms, drop our heads back, and dance like we’re still in college. With reckless abandon, massive gratitude for the moment, and the euphoria of just being together again, the beat swallows us whole.
* * *
“Hey baby.”
I freeze at the words, my eyes popping open.
Until I recognize the brown hair, chiseled jawline, and flashing green eyes, a shade or two lighter than Eli’s.
Then I realize the words are directed toward Charlie, not me.
“Evan.” She throws her arms around his neck, her face open and glowing from the alcohol buzzing through her system. “What are you doing here?”
He shakes his head, a smirk glancing off his lips as they share a look. Understanding passes between them, Charlie’s smile grows, and Evan tucks her under his arm. The movement is natural, familiar, like something they do every day.
My eyes nearly bug out of my head.
What the hell is my bestie not telling me about her and Evan?
Uh, apparently, everything.
I lift my finger and jab it in their direction, about to shout all of my questions above the blaring music, when Connor appears at my side.
He drops his mouth to my ear so I can hear him. “You okay, Zo?”
I frown at him, trying to connect the dots in my muddled brain.
Shit, how many shots did I take?
I shrug, and the crease between Connor’s brows deepens.
“Come on.” He clasps my elbow, shooting a look at Evan and Charlie.
Evan tips his chin at Connor while Charlie practically melts into his frame.
Jeez Louise. Girl’s got it so damn bad.
Connor steers me out of the main room of the club toward a bar in a quieter area, where he orders two bottles of water from the bartender. I slide onto a barstool and almost fall off, gripping the underside of the bar to hold myself upright.
His hand palms the center of my back, steadying me as he glances down at me curiously. He doesn’t say anything as he uncaps the water bottle and places it in between my palms.
“Thanks,” I murmur, feeling like I’m being scolded but not sure why. I drain half the bottle’s contents and place it on the bar. “How’s training going?”
Connor quirks an eyebrow, his eyes still studying me like I’m some kind of puzzle he can’t figure out. “It’s going.”
“And the gym?”
“Gym’s good. Got a solid group of guys at the moment, including two looking to level up.”
“Nice.” I nod, wincing when I hiccup at the end. “Rodriguez?”
“Stepped up his game. Might have a title shot in a couple of months.”
“Really? That’s amazing.”
Connor nods.
Glancing around this part of the club, the colors and lights blend together, like staring out the car window when it’s raining. My stomach grumbles and I wonder if I can convince Charlie to grab pizza after this. Probably, she’s always hungry.
Connor leans closer and I look up, realizing he was speaking to me and I missed everything he said.
“Sorry?” I say with a headshake.
“Look, I’m not trying to dig into your personal life. You and me, we’re cool. We’ve got a solid professional relationship between us. But I heard about your diagnosis from Eli and from Evan, through Charlie. Are you okay?” Worry shadows his chocolate eyes, his jaw tight.
I nod slowly, his concern for me touching. “I think so.”
Connor tilts his head again. I can tell he doesn’t know what to make of my answer by the way his jaw clenches. “Have you talked to him at all?”
The question is innocent enough, but the compassion in his expression when he asks it catches me off-guard.
Call me emotional. Perhaps sentimental?
Maybe I’m just tipsy as fuck and my heart’s been through the wringer and the elephant on my chest decided to stand up in this moment, but all the emotions swell in my throat, rising to the surface and filling my eyes with tears.
“Shit.” Connor murmurs. I swear, fear flickers in his eyes.
Ladies, want to make a guy run? Cry.
“Here.” Connor grabs a stack of napkins from the other side of the bar and presses them into my hand.
I glance at the ceiling, momentarily distracted by the stars floating across in neon pink and purple, then dab the corners of my eyes while blinking furiously.
“Look, I’ve known Eli a long time. He sucks at being honest with his feelings. It’s hard for him to communicate because of all the shit that happened between him and Natalie. And then, living in L.A. The point is, he’s not good at it, but he’s one of the best guys around. Once he makes you one of his inner circle, he’s thoughtful, caring, generous to a fault, and loyal as hell. I don’t know what went down between you guys, but Zoe… he’s made you his. And I’d stake my life on the fact that he’s thinking of you constantly.”
The tears swell again and Connor freezes.
“That was really sweet, Connor,” I nearly weep, relief unraveling through my body like spools of thread. “Do you really think so?”
“Yeah, Zo.” Connor nudges the water bottle closer to me. “You’ve got a lot going on right now, but if you need to work out some of these feelings, come to the gym.”
I snort, my laughter mixing with my tears. The sound is highly unattractive and I’m relieved it’s only Connor who hears it, though he does grimace.
Jeez Louise. I uncap my water bottle and polish it off. “Thanks, Connor. Since I’m a bit drunk and emotional, and we’re giving unsolicited advice even though it’s one hundred percent wrapped with good intentions, you should patch things up with Harlow.”
Connor’s eyebrows lift into his hairline.
“She deserves someone like you.” I add, slipping off the barstool and nodding back toward the club. “I’m getting tired. I think I’ll find Charlie and grab an Uber.”
Connor snickers. “If you think there’s any chance of prying her and Evan apart right now, you’re drunker than I thought. And there’s no way you’re taking an Uber. I’m not drinking, so I’ll take you all home.”
“What’s the deal with Charlie and Evan anyway?”
Connor stops walking and stares at me. “No way. I’m not touching that one. I’ve already said too much tonight as it is. But, I guess, there’s a pretty good chance you won’t remember it in the morning.”
“Hey, I’m not that drunk.” I swat at his shoulder and miss, catching the side of his neck.
He lifts an eyebrow.
“I’m not.”
“Right. I hear your stomach growling.”
“Will you take us for pizza too?” I ask hopefully. Connor grumbles as I reenter the club.
Spotting Evan and Charlie in a dark corner, her back pressed against the wall, his hands tangled in her hair, their mouths fused together, I applaud wildly. “Holy shit. They’re like…I don’t even know. PDA whores.”
Connor laughs and tosses an arm over my shoulder as he steers us toward our friends. “I’m sure the mention of pizza will force them to come up for air. At least for a little bit.”
18
Eli
I’ve called Zoe three times and she hasn’t answered.
Shit. Did I already blow it because it took me so long to respond to her text?
After shooting for hours, I came back to my room and passed out. I forgot all about my phone, which I’d left on the couch. In fact, I forgot where I left it at all.
This morning, waking to Harlow’s annoying humming and the shit green smoothie she shoved under my nose, she casually asked if Zoe replied to my message.
That’s when I bolted from my bed, my ankles tangling in the goddamn sheets, and raced to the couch.
She texted me back.
My hands nearly shook with relief before I realized the time. It was twelve hours ago.
So, I called her. Again. And again. Until Harlow swiped the phone from my hand.
“You look like a stalker.” With an infuriating grin, she slips my phone into her back pocket.
I reach for it but I’m too slow, still half-asleep and confused as to what the hell is going on.
“I forgot to message her last night.” I admit.
Harlow shoves the stupid smoothie in my face again. I reluctantly drink it.
She sighs, knowing just how much yesterday’s filming zapped my energy. Hours and hours of climbing through debris and the wreckage of the plane to rescue Siale. Constant makeup touch-ups to make sure my bruised face and split lip are consistent in every shot. Blazing heat, freezing cold, wet clothes, extreme physical exertion.
Still, I should have checked on Zoe.
I hang my head, all my relationship failures flooding my system until I collapse on the couch and scrub a hand over my face.
“She had a wild night out,” Harlow supplies, causing me to bolt upright, my eyes snapping to hers.
“What? How do you know that?”
Harlow slips my phone from her pocket and shakes it at me. “Instagram. Apparently, Zoe and Charlie went downtown to Lush last night for some good ol’ fashioned clubbing.”
I groan, my body tensing as thoughts shoot through my mind. Did she go out clubbing because she thinks I’m ignoring her? Did she meet someone? Go home with a guy? Is she still with him, now? My skin feels too tight, stretched across my face like a canvas about to shred.
She’s free to do whatever she wants. She doesn’t owe you anything.
Jesus, what if I pushed her into the arms of another man because I didn’t answer her goddamn message?