Chiron

Vinnie, with two other bouncers in tow, finally elbow their way through the crowd. They grab flailing limbs, tearing the two brawlers apart, and immediately drag them towards the exit. I try rushing after them, shouting for Vinnie’s attention so he won’t kick Leo out. Unfortunately, the man Leo’s just defended still has a death grip on my forearm, not letting me take a step.

Just before the herd of people swallows them, Leo’s eyes find mine. His jaw is red and beginning to swell. Blood running down his chin from his cut lip. His hair tie has come undone, leaving his hair tangled around his shoulders. He mouths, “You okay?” I nod my head and then they’re gone.

A tidal wave of disappointment washes over me as I watch him being dragged away. In the brief interaction we’d shared, Leo made me feel more attractive, valued, and safe than my entire two-year relationship with my Ex. Dammit, I didn’t even have the chance to give him my name! Just my fucking luck that everything went tits up. I’ve probably met my soulmate, and now I’ll never see him again. I don’t know his full name, where he works, or if he lives nearby.

My stomach clenches and guilt overtakes disappointment as I realise how selfish I’m being, considering what just happened. I push the thoughts away and instead scan the upset man’s body for injuries. His face is red and tear stained, one hand clenched in his hair. He’s wearing a bright and colourful paisley patterned button-down shirt with the collar popped. The top buttons are open to show off a patch of chest hair. The bottom of the shirt is untucked and crumpled above the open button of his black slacks. It's not a style choice, but Dickhead’s work. Otherwise, he doesn’t have any visible injuries, so I focus my attention on the explanation he’s babbling between heavy, wet breaths. 

“I don’t know that guy. Never even seen him before. I left my friend’s bach bash to use the bathroom and suddenly I’m cornered. He shoved me against the wall! That hijo de puta put his hands in my pants!” He hiccups and furiously wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Before I could fight him off, he pulled away and started shouting at me! I was so afraid I was gonna end up a statistic! I panicked and ran. Sorry I knocked you down, and that you got dragged into this mess. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I just wanted to get away!”

He covers his face with his arm, crying into his elbow. I meet Tess's eyes and I know we're both struggling to hold it together. Rage darkens her face as she pats his back a tad too firmly. 

I wish Jade were here. They’d handle this situation so much better than me. He’s still clutching onto my arm, crying into his elbow. My adrenaline is tanking, making me shake all over. My legs are wobbling so much I feel as if I’m about to collapse. I pry his fingers from my arm and push him to sit on a barstool, taking the seat beside him. Tess walks back around behind the bar and pours three double shots of whisky. She downs one, pushing the other two towards us. 

“On the house, boys.” 

As we pound the shots, the walkie-talkie crackles and Vinnie’s rough voice says, “Assholes escorted out. We have the aggressor’s details and I banned them both. Everything okay inside Tess?”

She looks pointedly at the man. “You want to press charges? Vinnie can call the cops.” The colour drains from his face, leaving him even more pale and splotchy. 

His watery, red-rimmed eyes widen and he says, “Fuck no, I just want to find my friends and forget this ever happened.” 

I pull my phone from my pocket, texting Bebe to find me. If we both help him, I’m sure we can find this guy’s friends. Then I ask Tess to explain to Vinnie that Leo was just defending himself. Maybe I could still make sure Leo’s ban isn’t permanent. There’s a slim chance I’ll see him again if he ever comes back. Not that I’d blame him if he never stepped foot inside this club again. 

She smirks and teases me, “You did look rather cosy. Like him, did ya?” Not in the mood, stressed and crashing, I ignore her jibe and turn to keep an eye out for Bebe. Soon enough, like a shark in the ocean, the top of Bebe’s white ponytail cuts through the throng.

With stars in his eyes, the guy cranes his neck up at her and reverently whispers, “Bebe Slick.” Bebe glances at him for a fraction of a second before wrapping me in a hug. 

“Sweetness, you okay? I saw you hooking up with that hottie, so I stayed away. But then everything went ape shit and I couldn’t get back over.” She rubs her hands up and down my arms. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” I deflect. “He needs help to find his friends. They got separated.” I gesture to the man next to me. His tear-streaked face following Bebe like she’s a real life celebrity. 

“Oh! Ya know what, Chi, leave it to me.” She throws me a conspiratorial wink. “I have to stay for another few hours before my next set, so we’ll find his friends. I can tell you’ve had an exhausting day, and you look like a wrung out washcloth. Catch a cab home on me.” She digs into the little blue satin bag attached to her wrist and slaps a twenty note into my hand. 

“Gee, thanks, don’t sugarcoat it.” I glower up at her. “But, you’re right. I’m done. I’m drained and I’m going home. Good luck, dude.” I slide down the bar stool, brushing off Bebe’s half hearted apologies with a wave over my shoulder, and push my way to the exit. 

Outside, rain is hammering down in sheets. Puddles reflect the streetlights as cars splash through them, and pedestrians run in a futile effort to stay dry. I should’ve brought an umbrella. Apparently, Nic’s knee was correct in its weather prediction. I glance up and down the street, hopeful that Leo may still be waiting. But with the bouncers not letting him linger at the entrance and the rain sluicing down, unsurprisingly, there’s no sign of him.

I release a disappointed sigh and wave for a cab. By the time one stops, I’m soaked through and shivering, my teeth chattering as I crawl in. I give the cabbie my address and collapse into the seat. Music plays on the radio at low volume and the cabbie hums along. I rest my head back and press my eyes closed.

“Rough night?” he asks. I don’t want to talk anymore, so I nod with my eyes closed and submit to the music.

I shut our front door and lock it behind me. Now that I’m alone, I feel as if I’m slowly deflating, like a sad, old party balloon. Only the high-pitched ringing in my ears cuts through the silence of the apartment. I shuffle to the bathroom without bothering to turn on the lights, embracing the darkness.

My bare feet absorb the chill of the bathroom tiles, making me shiver as I wash my face and dry my hair with a towel. I brush my teeth and stare into the mirror, my face blurring and losing all meaning. In my bedroom, I strip off my clinging, wet clothes and pull on my cosiest pair of pyjamas, then climb unsteadily into my big, empty bed. I burrow into a nest of pillows and blankets and curl up into a tight ball on my side, hands tucked between my knees.

All the thoughts I’ve ignored today flood over me as I close my eyes. With no more distractions, they pull me down into a whirlpool of negativity. I try forcing my brain to think of mundane things instead, trying to bore myself to sleep. Since the cafe is closed tomorrow, I can sleep in without worrying about work. I’ll go to the farmer’s market as usual, but I don’t want to go alone. 

My thoughts circle around to the intense connection I felt tonight and the gorgeous man who instigated it. Is Leo okay? I hope his face didn’t swell too much, and he’s not in pain. Although, he fared better than the other guy. Dickhead was still shouting and very bloody while they dragged him out.

What’s Leo doing right now? Was he upset we were interrupted? Did he feel a connection, too? He acted interested, but maybe he just wanted a hook up. How would it have felt if he’d kissed me? Does he like the Farmer’s Market? I bet he’d go with me if I could ask him.

I huff irritably at my stupid, circling thoughts. There’s no point in thinking about him. I won’t ever see him again. Although, forcing my thoughts away from him only makes me more aware of the throbbing in my arm. Since I bruise like a peach, I’m sure there will be marks where the man we helped gripped it. I remember having similar bruises from being gripped like that in the past. But back then, it stemmed from anger, not fear.

As the ghosts of my horrible past relationship haunt me, a cocktail of sadness, loneliness, and disappointment threatens to drown me. I bite down on my lip, stifling a whimper and squeezing my eyes tight. I hold back my tears and try my damndest to think of anything else. Tears roll down my cheeks anyway. Eventually, my tired body gives up and I fall asleep with my face pressed into the damp pillow.