Not to my surprise, Ronny does most of the talking while we wait for the waitress to return. I guess he used to work with Blake, but now he paints houses. Honestly, the more I listen to him talk, the more I think there’s something to taking in too many fumes. He’s kind of funny, but that’s where it ends.

The waitress reappears with our drinks. “Do y’all want to pay for these or start a tab?”

“I’ll pick up the first round,” Blake says, sliding a plastic card across the table. She quickly walks away with it.

“I wanted to buy the lady a drink,” Ronny rebuts. His fingers slip down my arm, tracing circles around my elbow.

Blake leans halfway across the table. “Give up, asshole. She’s not going home with you.” He’s talking to Ronny but looking at me. I don’t understand him.

“Is he like this at home?” Ronny whispers, his breath hitting the side of my neck.

I keep my attention on Blake. His jaw is locked so tight; it’s got to hurt. “Pretty much,” I whisper back. “I’d say he needs to get laid, but I know that’s not the case.”

Mark whistles low, bumping Blake with his elbow. “Did you hear that? I think someone may have finally met his match.”

I lean in toward Ronny’s ear, resting my hand on his shoulder. This is pissing Blake off, and I kind of like it. For his part, Ronny squeezes my thigh.

“Fuck this,” Blake mutters, leaving the three of us alone as he stalks off toward the bar.

Victory. Immediately, I slide away from Ronny, smiling apologetically. Maybe he thought he was getting somewhere, but this is nothing but a game. Men play them all the time, so why can’t I?

I figured Blake would come back after a few minutes, but he doesn’t. I finish my whiskey and instantly regret it. With an empty stomach, I’m feeling the drunken tingle after just one drink. Mark and Ronny talk, but I don’t listen. My head spins as if it’s stuck in the eye of a hurricane.

The place is packed, but I feel like the only person in here. I scan the bar again, anxious to find Blake and get the hell out of here. Maybe pick up a pizza along the way. I’m lost in my own world when cold lips press against my neck. I jerk my head in response, hitting Ronny in the face.

He cups his nose, wincing. I quickly move away. “I’ll be back.” I pick up my coat from the back of the booth and pull it over my shoulders.

“Hey, I just wanted to have some fun!” Ronny yells after me.

A path clears for me as I make my way toward the bar, ignoring him. Another drink—or five—might be all I need to fix this messed up night. I hate when my plans don’t work out the way I want. What was I hoping to achieve tonight? Did I expect Blake to fall to my feet and beg for something I don’t even want? Or maybe I do want it, and that’s what bothers me so much.

The bartender appears in front of me as soon as I slide up against the bar. He smirks, his eyes exploring my body before coming back up to mine. He reminds me of Blake—full of himself. There’s probably a girl waiting outside the door to go home with him and his dimples after every shift. Another fucking wizard.

“What can I get you?” he asks.

“Whiskey, tall.”

That only widens his smile. He splays his hands on the bar top, allowing him to lean forward even more. “Straight?”

I toss my hair behind my shoulder and rest my elbows against the old wooden bar. Tonight was supposed to be about fun, and life is what you make it. “Twisted whiskey isn’t really my thing.”

“Mine either,” he says, darting his tongue out over his lower lip. He moves in to say something else, but I step back. Too much, Lila. Too much.

“I could really use that drink.”

He nods, turning to pull a glass from the back shelf. Music starts, and I spin around to get a glimpse of the band—three guys about my dad’s age. The singer’s voice is a soulful cry to the slow, beautiful melody. I rest my elbows on the bar, letting the music sway my hips like the wind does the leaves on the trees.

My eyes close. I want to forget where I am and just pretend for a second that I’m on a private beach with soft sand under my feet. The song changes, and when I open my eyes to find my drink, Ronny is standing in front of me. He’s watching me with thick perversion.

Before I can say anything, his hands encase my waist, pulling me against his body. “Dance with me.” I hate the smell of beer on his breath.

“No.” I shake my head and push down on his arms. His hands clench into fists, but he doesn’t step back. This whole fucking night has been ridiculous. I unclasp my clutch and throw money on the bar to pay for the whiskey I didn’t get to drink. I could use a whole damn bottle right now. “Tell Blake I said bye.”

I expect him to follow me, to yell like he did before, but he doesn’t. Without looking back, I head out the door, letting the city air wash over me. Coming here with Blake wasn’t a good idea. I should have known the second he asked me.

Blake and I aren’t meant to mix. We’re a mistake—an experiment that results in toxic fumes.

Before heading back to the apartment, I stop at a small pizzeria and buy a slice of hot cheese pizza. My hollow stomach can’t wait the few minutes it will take to get home so I devour it as I walk down the city streets. It’s pitch dark, and I don’t know a soul out here, but it doesn’t matter to me. If the world wants to swallow what’s left of me, let it. Maybe that’s where life’s path is leading me . . . down a dark, narrow hole.

As much as I hate them, I hail a cab and crawl into the backseat. The driver and I exchange nothing but my address as the downtown streets turn into residential ones. When he pulls in front of my house, he asks for fifteen and I hand him a twenty.

Once I’m safely tucked in my apartment, I change into my sweats and curl up on the couch with my e-reader. This is what I should have done in the first place. Besides the pizza, the entire night was a waste.

I disappear into the land of alpha males and the weak heroines who love them. It’s the kind of book I love to hate. I tell myself I’ll never be one of those girls, but since Derek, I’ve felt like maybe I was one with him at times.

It’s a struggle—constant and fierce—but in the end, I know I’ll be okay. What doesn’t kill us is supposed to make us stronger, right?

I hear the door unlock, and quickly beeline for my bedroom. I didn’t expect Blake to come home tonight, and I’m not in the mood for a meet and greet with his nightly pick-up.

“Lila!” I hear him yell as soon as my door shuts. “Damnit, Lila, come out here now.”

My hand stays on the doorknob. I’m scared that if I move, he’ll hear my bare feet against the old hardwood floors. He’ll know I’m still awake.

“Lila. Come. Out. Here. Now!” Blake wears a permanent asshole patch on his shirt, and I’m tired of it.

When I still ignore him, his fist hits hard against my door. “I know you’re awake.”

I know without a doubt if I don’t open the door, he’s going to keep yelling and eventually he’ll wake up all the neighbors. Hesitantly, I turn the knob and get an eyeful of his pissed off expression. Every muscle in his body goes rigid.

“What?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

He takes a step toward me, his chest brushing against mine. “What the hell were you thinking leaving without telling me? I spent a whole fucking hour searching the club for you, thinking some asshole had gotten a hold of you!”

“I told the guys.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me!”

I swallow hard, taking the smallest of steps backward, hoping he won’t notice. “Honestly, I didn’t think you cared. I agreed to go with you, but I never said I’d leave with you.”

His eyes burn into mine as he makes up the space I’d gained. “When you come with me, you stay with me, and if you think you need to leave, we’ll fucking leave, but you should not be walking around this city by yourself at night. Especially wearing that piece of fabric you call a dress.”