Page 30 of Nocturnes & Nightmares

“Plants and animals aren’t so bad. It’s the people I have trouble with. Socializing doesn’t really come natural for me.”

“Me, either.” Glancing to the side, I offer Simon a smile. “It’s nice meeting a fellow hermit.”

He lifts his glass, which looks to be a soft drink. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I echo, clinking my glass against his.

* * *

My head is spinning as I sit in the booth, squished between Simon and Shayna, who talk to each other through me, as if I’m not even here. Their words are a jumbled mess, bouncing around in my brain. I’m three drinks in and officially buzzing. Or maybe I’m trashed and just don’t realize it yet.

My whole body feels warm and fuzzy, muscles completely relaxed.

Simon lifts his drink, wiping down the condensation left on the table with his napkin, and sips his Coke like it’s Grand Marnier, or something.

I find the act mesmerizing, consuming my attention as though it’s the most riveting thing I’ve seen, and it’s not.

A hot, muscled man holding a kitten pretty much trumps everything.

And now I’m perving on my tenant again.

Without warning, I push to my feet, interrupting Simon and Shayna, and feel a gentle grip of my hand.

“Everything okay, Nola?” Simon asks, his face somewhat of a blur.

“Yeah … I just …” I stumble backward, the room spinning way too fast in my periphery. “I just need some air.”

“Want me to come with you, hun?” Shay tips back the last of her beer and signals the waitress for another.

“No. No, I just need a minute to get some fresh air. You two stay. Talk.”

Eyes focused on the exit sign ahead, I make my way toward it on legs that feel like wet noodles, until I finally push through to the back alley. The stench of the dumpster and stale water assault my nose, taunting my gag reflex, but I hold it back and fish through my coat pockets for my cigarettes. The buzz of nicotine only adds to my dizziness as I light up, and I don’t immediately notice someone’s joined me, until arms wrap tight around my torso.

“Found ya!” Harv stinks like the onion rings he was eating earlier, and I wrench his fingers apart to set me loose.

“Get off of me.”

He does, laughing as he lights up one of his own cigarettes. “Shouldn’t come out here by y’self.” His words are slurred and forced. “Buncha freaks ‘n this par’of th’city.”

I may be buzzing myself, but even I can see he’s straight up shitfaced, his eyes falling to half-mast as he wavers on his feet. “I’m fine.”

“You are fine. And I wish y’were mine.” The song in his voice stirs the bile I tried to hold down from before. He shakes his head, his right sleepy eye twitching. “Why’n’t we jus’ fuck? Jus’ ge’it over and fuck already?”

“Because I have self-respect. And you have a wife.”

“You’re too good f’me? ‘S’at it, Nolo?”

It’s not even worth correcting him again, especially when he only butchers my name to piss me off.

Flicking my cigarette away, I take a step toward the door, but he blocks me. “I’m going back in now. Please get out of my way.”

“Touch m’dick firs’.” Thumb tucked in the waistband of his jeans, he holds his pants open in invitation. “Th’I’ll let you back in.”

“Fuck you.” I step to the right, and when he follows suit, I quickly skirt to the left, but he catches me, even in his drunken state, pulling me into him.

Jeans still pulled away from his body, he tightens his grip around me and presses me against the wall. “C’mon, Lola. Touch m’dick. Jus’ once. One little stroke.”

Struggling against him, I push away, trying to create a wider gap for escape, but he has the advantage between his body and the wall. “Get the fuck off of me!”