I moved 3,000 miles to start my life over, and what happens? I move into a shoebox. I take a job with no growth potential and does not change the world – except for potentially helping people in achieving cirrhosis of the liver. I fall in love with a man who reinforces every insecurity I have.
Nice work, Kelli, way to go!
This isn't working. I came out here to build the life I wanted and I got sucked into unrequited love – my specialty. I have to break this cycle. I have to handle this differently.
I decide to spend the rest of the afternoon on my resume. I upload it to a number of job websites and apply for six positions. Working in a pub was a college dream, and I'm not 20 years old anymore.
My flirtation with fantasy is over. I'm not the sassy barmaid who sashays her way into the bed of the handsome pub owner. I can't just run away from one life expecting to create a whole new one on a whim. That's not how it works. I can change my life, but it will take time, and patience, and hard work. Meeting Prince Charming is not a panacea.
And Ian sure as hell isn't Prince Charming.
******
Easily the busiest night of the year, it isn't hard to ignore Ian at work on Thursday, New Year's Eve. I come on at 6pm and everyone is already there. I enter through the back and Tracey quickly puts me to work on the dishes. Usually my least favorite job, I throw myself into them with gusto.
I spent part of the morning thinking about what I might say to Ian before deciding there was no point. He's certainly not going to delve into any feelings, so why should I? Really, is there anything more that needs to be said? I know where he stands, he knows where I stand, and they are miles apart. Case closed. I suppose when I finally get another job we'll have to speak once more, but then again, maybe not. He's not likely to change his stance, nor I mine. I guess I'll just leave.
The thought makes me sad, so I banish it and throw myself back into scrubbing.
After an hour, I've erased the backlog and go out to bus tables. As I emerge from the kitchen the crew sends up a drunken "Kelli!" I can't help but smile at them. It is only 7pm and they are totally lit. But it feels good to be greeted with such warmth.
"How are you all drunk already?" I ask to no one person in particular.
"We are tremendous overachievers," Jaye answers proudly.
Laughing, I say, "Yes, that you are."
"Hey, Kel, meet my wife, Tamara," Jaye says, putting his arm around a pretty woman I hadn't realized was with the group.
"Oh, wow, it is so nice to meet you! I was beginning to think you might be imaginary," I can't help but tease.
She laughs good naturedly and says, "No, I just work constantly. It's a little weird, but I actually appreciate what great companions you all are to Jaye. Helps me feel a little less guilty about never being home."
"Join us for a drink, Beautiful!" Tom calls out, interrupting our exchange.
I hold up my empty tray. "Gotta make myself useful. I promise I'll sneak out later."
"We'll hold you to that," Wilson chimes in.
I blow him a kiss and say, "Great meeting you, Tamara," before losing myself in the crowd.
Through all of this Ian pointedly ignored us. Yep, certainly didn't need to worry about a confrontation.
The night flies by in a chaotic whirlwind of dishes, spilled drinks, and vomit. More than once I mentally kick myself for my naiveté. I thought working in a pub would be fun, why?
The countdown to midnight happens when I'm in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Trying to keep people on this side of alcohol poisoning, Ian's offering stew at half price and we can't keep up. Tracey is in the back with me and seems unphased by the ringing in of the new year. Normally I enjoy ushering in January 1st with all its promise for a better year and fresh start. This year, it simply depresses me.
Around 1am, Ian comes into the kitchen where I'm back to scrubbing pots and Tracey is stirring the last batch of stew. The kitchen normally closes at 11pm, but we kept going tonight.
"When you are done with those dishes, go ahead and take off, Kelli," Ian says. It sounded like his voice hitched on my name, but I'm probably imagining things.
"Right, thanks," I say without looking at him. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Tracey look between us but she remains uncharacteristically silent.
He returns to the front and I quickly finish what I'm doing. It's exhausting trying not to cry, and I want nothing more than to throw myself into bed and fall into a deep sleep.
"Night, Tracey," I say.
"Night. Happy New Year," she responds.
"Yeah, you too." I walk to the door, grabbing my purse and coat from the rack.
"Ian's going to want to walk you home," she says.
"No, he's not," I say with conviction and disappear out the back.
******
"KELLI! Open up! Keeelllllli, oh Kelli!"
I open my eyes, at a loss for what is going on. My room is pitch black and I'm face down on my bed. I look to my night stand and see that it is 3:12. What the hell?
"Beautiful, beautiful Kelli," a voice sings. "Open up and let me in my darlin' lassie!"
I push myself up to my knees. Oh my god, that's Ian. What the hell?
I jump out of bed and open the door. Sure enough, swaying gently in front of me is an extremely inebriated Ian. He blinks at me, a grin expanding across his face.
"There she is! There's my girl," he says and takes a step towards me. It's an unsteady step and he throws his arms out to brace himself against the door frame, filling it completely. He leans in and tries to kiss me. I step back and he stumbles forward, causing me to try and catch him. But his 6'3" frame and 215 pounds are too much for me and we both end up on the floor. We land on our sides, but he quickly flips us so he's in between my legs, propping himself up on his elbows.
"Ian, get off," I say, futilely pushing up on his chest.
"Hmmm," he hums, bringing his lips to the side of my neck and collapsing onto me, "but I like it here." He begins nuzzling my neck, planting little biting kisses here and there.
I can't help it, I close my eyes and give myself over to the moment. Ian's heavy weight between my legs, his taut belly pressed into mine, his lips on my neck and his hands playing in my hair. Under different circumstances, I'd be in heaven. But the circumstances aren't different. He had still rejected me just yesterday, and I have no doubt that the only reason he is here is because he is drunk off his ass.
"Ian, stop!" I say with force as I shove him again. This time he pays attention to my protest and lifts his head to look down at me.
"You are so beautiful, Baby. I love your eyes. I love your lips," and with that he leans down to kiss me, drawing my lower lip into his mouth and gently biting it.
My inner muscles clench and my hips involuntarily thrust up into his. A wave of heat washes over me as he moans into my mouth and offers a few lazy thrusts with his erection pushing into my belly. He adjusts lower, lining up his shaft so it presses perfectly into the apex of my thighs.
"Ian, stop," I say again, this time with much less force. He's moved his lips back to my neck and his right hand has begun to wander across my body while his left stays firmly planted in my hair, keeping him propped up on his elbow.
He moves his kisses to the center of my neck as his hand finds my breast, pulling it free from my pajama top. He pinches my already hard nipple before quickly sucking it into his mouth. I moan this time, my hips now moving in time with his.
My moan seems to have awoken something inside him and he moves quickly now, pulling down the other side of my top and capturing my right nipple in his mouth and sucking even harder. My back arches and my clit begins to throb. He's a little feral now, moving quickly back and forth between my breasts, biting and squeezing, grinding his pelvis into mine.
I know I need to make him stop, but I can't find a way to force myself to resist him. I want him so badly and here he is, giving me exactly what I want.
He leaves my chest and begins to move lower. When he tugs clumsily at my yoga pants, fumbling in his attempt to get them off my hips, the spell is broken.
"Ian, stop," I say firmly. I pull my top back in place and manage to sit up, forcing him back.
"Baby … " he starts, trying to grab me again.
"No, Ian, stop this. You're drunk," I state the obvious as I scramble up and out of his reach. Standing near my bed, I look down on him. He's still on the floor, looking up at me like a puppy dog being denied his treat.
"Please, Baby," he says, raising an arm to try and hook around my calf.