Can't get over you

“One more shot, please!” Judgment. Was I okay? Of course not. But I nodded anyway, forcing a wobbly smile. He—what the hell am I doing? I pulled out my phone and stared at the name on my screen: Aaron. My thumb hovered over the call button. I pressed it… and hung up before it could ring. Panic? Pain? I couldn’t tell anymore—they felt the same these days. Again. I never read what I sent afterward. Too ashamed. Too afraid. I’d wake up the next morning hating myself, screaming at my reflection, “Have some self-respect, Farah!” And yet, here I was. This time, though… I didn’t feel embarrassed. Just numb. I opened my messages and stared at our old thread—empty on his end. It wasn’t a conscious decision anymore; it was muscle memory. My fingers moved on their own, tapping out another message. The bartender flinched at my sudden outburst and gave me a look—part concern, part curiosity? About what? My latest downward spiral? Where was that shot? The bartender finally returned and slid the glass toward me. I downed it in one go, the burn clawing down my throat and bringing tears to my eyes. A few minutes passed before the alcohol began to hit, and the world started to tilt. Bill paid. Purse in hand. Legs barely steady. I staggered toward the exit, head spinning, hoping the fresh air would sober me up. I just needed to get to the roadside, wait for my sister, and then crawl into bed and forget tonight ever happened. But in my drunken rush, I slammed into someone. The collision knocked me backward, and I instinctively braced for impact with the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the sting of concrete and the sting of humiliation— But I never hit the ground. I stayed suspended. Supported. He held me like I weighed nothing, arms steady, gaze indifferent—except for a flicker of something behind his eyes. I opened one eye. Then both. He was still there. I should’ve left. Waited for my sister. Cried in the rain. No. No way. Aaron. Aaron. And then I heard a voice I hadn’t heard in years. Calm. Familiar. Dangerous. I opened my eyes. I squeezed them shut again, as if blinking him away could erase him. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe this was the alcohol talking. Maybe experiencing short-term memory loss? That’s sweet. “For someone as delusional as you,” he said with a smirk, “you were pretty prepared for that fall.” Despite every mental alarm going off, I sat down across from him. The questions bubbled up inside me like a shaken bottle ready to explode. “What are you doing here?” I managed, voice rough. “I’m meeting a friend. You just happened to be here too,” he said flatly. Then, after a pause—as if calculating how much to reveal—he added, “Nothing more, nothing less.” “That’s not an answer.” He didn’t respond. He just looked at me, and for a second, something cracked beneath the surface. Liar. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked as I stopped in front of him. “Aaron—” The way he said my name—it was both a warning and a reminder. I hated how much it still affected me. I wanted to turn around. Walk out. Leave this man I’d spent two years trying to forget. But I didn’t. I walked slowly, like my legs might change their mind halfway through. His eyes were locked on me the whole time, cold and unreadable. “Why… didn’t you reply to any of my messages?” I asked softly, already bracing for the silence that would follow. I’d imagined his response a hundred times. A thousand. I wanted it in words, on his face, in anything. Something. Instead, he looked past me. Told the bartender to hurry with the drinks, his jaw clenched so hard I saw the veins in his neck. Was that… anger? “What? After all this time?” I snapped. “You just show up out of nowhere like nothing happened?” “It’s a free world, Farah.” I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I stood, humiliated, ready to flee—but his hand caught mine. “Hey, hey it’s me,” Aaron’s voice broke through, slightly panicked. “What—what are you doing here!?” I yelled again, confused and overwhelmed. I was lost. My sister wasn’t answering her phone. Ughhhhhhh! I kept walking, heels clacking against the pavement, directionless. Time blurred. The streets all looked the same. The cold air sobered me just enough to realize— The world stopped. My chest seized. I didn’t move, hoping whoever it was would keep walking. But the steps stopped right in front of me. Then I heard footsteps. Then I heard it. I screamed. Then my phone rang. My sister. “Farah… don’t come to the house tonight.” Her voice was cracked, broken. She hung up before I could ask anything. My body went cold. Aaron noticed the shift. “Why do you care?” I laughed bitterly, turning away. “You—” I choked. “It happened again.” He froze. Said nothing. But his silence was telling. Get it together, Farah. I shook myself mentally and yanked my hand back. “Stop being stubborn, Farah.” “What was that for!?” “You’re drunk, it’s late, and you have no ride. Let. Me. Take. You. Home.” He didn’t wait for my answer. Just started pulling me toward his car parked at the far end of the alley. “No! I’d rather die than get in a car with you!” I resisted. “Let me go, you bastard!” I didn’t answer. He smirked. “Still afraid of dogs, I see. Get in the car, Farah.” He pulled over. “Now that you’re quiet, let me speak.” “Why what?” “Speak.” My head snapped toward him, emotions swarming. “Why?” He offered me a room, but I ended up in his—he insisted on the couch, like he used to when I broke down. It was something he did when he thought I needed silent support. I locked myself in the bathroom, washed my face, tried to breathe. I didn’t let him see me cry. Farah, come to your senses. You’re in enemy territory. I got into bed and tried to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t shut off. I could feel his eyes on me. Why was he staring? “I read every single one of your texts,” he whispered against my ear. I tried to open my eyes, but my body wouldn’t move. Then I heard it. Eventually, exhaustion won. I drifted off. Sometime during the night, I stirred as a warm weight settled over me. A blanket. Then— Soft lips. My forehead. My eyes shot open. He was gone.