Fear of Falling(106)

I knew she was lying. I just didn’t have it in me to call her on her bullshit. Not when I was currently up to my elbows in my own.

I took a deep breath and gazed at the alternative. Shimmering stars laughed back at me, taunting me, holding me their captive.

Fuck them.

“Be there in 20.”

I sat in the Dive parking lot, scraping together the last bits of my courage before entering. I knew Blaine was here; his truck sat in its usual space as it did most nights. So why the hell was I here? Why was I walking into God-knows-what when I should be running away to hide? Why was I torturing myself by going straight to the man that I needed to avoid?

Because I was stupid, that’s why. Stupid in love with him, and tired of running.

I was sick of playing the victim. Sick of depriving myself of the only thing I wanted. Dammit, I wanted to be with Blaine. I wanted to love him fiercely and unabashedly and just dive right into this crazy, mixed up whirlwind of emotions with him. I wanted to give the middle finger to fear and let him kiss away all my reservations.

Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could make me forget what I was. Blaine had the ability to make me face my fears and kick them in the nuts triumphantly. I wanted to be a better person with him. I wanted to be a better person for him.

I picked up the red paper heart I had brought along as a peace offering. I smiled, imagining the spot he would reserve for it on his dresser. Blaine made even the silliest things meaningful and significant. That’s exactly what he did for me. He gave me meaning. He made me feel like I was an important piece to his puzzle. Like I belonged. I shook my head at myself. How stupid of me to push him away when all along he was exactly what I needed.

He wasn’t just my exception. He was my reason.

Tears clouded my eyes as I made my way inside. Not because I was afraid or sad. But because I was ready. I was ready to love that scary-beautiful man and give him my whole, broken mess of a heart if that was what he wanted. He wasn’t the one to reject me. I rejected him. I rejected myself. I couldn’t even see a logical reason for all the drama I had caused. I just knew that I had to make it right.

“Hey, Kam,” Corey greeted me with a tight smile. “What brings you in tonight?”

I quickly scanned the bar. It was oddly crowded for a Tuesday night and music was blasting from the jukebox. I could tell Corey was swamped so I didn’t want to keep him too long. “Hey, is Blaine here? I saw his car.”

Corey looked up from the drink he was preparing with hesitation etched in his face. His blue eyes darted to the right then back to me before he cringed and mouthed, “Sorry.” I turned my head to see just exactly what he could possibly be sorry about, but part of me knew without looking. The hope I had felt just minutes before had already dissolved.

Blaine sat in a dark corner booth with two girls on either side of him. I noticed one of them as Wendy and it seemed like her plastic knockers were getting the attention they craved as she tucked a full shot glass between them snugly. Blaine was laughing hysterically at CJ who sat across from them, entertaining his own eager guests as he licked salt from some chick’s cleavage. Then he plunged his face into her silicone-filled boobs to retrieve his own shot of tequila with his lips and teeth. Throwing his head back, he downed it in one swift move. Then he sucked a slice of lime that was nestled between another girl’s lips before probing her mouth with his tongue.

It looked like some freaky alcohol orgy and was tacky as all hell. I thought I had been propelled into a raunchy dating show on VH1 involving a washed up musician and 20 penis-pawing groupies. I instantly felt sick.

“Your turn, Blaine!” one of the girls called, gripping his t-shirt with neon pink acrylic nails.

Two booths down, Angel and Dom stared daggers at Blaine, both too consumed with rage to notice I had walked in. I should have told them I was here. Hell, I should have been snatching handfuls of cheap, blonde extensions and staking my claim on Blaine, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I was that scared, meek little field mouse thrown into a pit of lions, too crippled by fear to do or say anything at all. I would be eaten alive.

I tried to swallow down the sour taste of betrayal but my throat was too tight with an unleashed sob. Prickles assaulted my eyes, signaling rapid approaching tears. With a shaky hand, I laid the folded piece of red paper on the bar among a sea of dirty glasses, spilled beer, and crumpled napkins. At that moment, I felt just like that paper heart: lost, alone, and in a place where I didn’t belong.

I knew what would come next, and it was stupid to torture myself further. I didn’t need to stick around to watch Blaine lick salt off Wendy’s tits. I didn’t need to witness him sucking the lime from another girl’s lips, not when I still could taste him on mine. I forced myself to walk swiftly yet steadily from the bar. If my body had its way, I would have burst into a full sprint to my car with tears streaming down my face the entire time. I was a coward of the worst kind—afraid of seeing the truth.