Kitchen Promises

By: Brooke Cumberland

I pull away harshly, breaking our kiss, but Natasha takes it as an invitation to string kisses down my neck. Good. It means I can gaze over her head toward the dance floor. The Angel is still there, laughing with her friend and drawing me in further. Somehow the club’s spotlights only seem to cast their gentle glow around her, and I can’t help but want to bust the bulbs out so that no one else can see her.

The thought makes me clench my eyes closed as I remind myself of what reality is. I don’t want a girl like that. She doesn’t look like the fast and easy type, and I have no business thinking about her. Get it together.

Natasha’s prying finger dips between the buttons of my shirt and it hits me like a semi truck— I have a gorgeous girl ready to let me fuck her in the back of a club and I couldn’t care less. Since when?

I’ve got to leave. I don’t want Natasha anymore and I don’t trust myself to move closer to the blonde angel. She doesn’t belong to me and it’s better if I leave now.

“I’ve leaving,” I bark, grabbing my wallet and pulling out a fifty for Natasha’s cab fare. It’s the least I can do considering I’m leaving her hanging.

“Jude! What the hell?” I shove the bill into her hand, ignoring her confused expression. Not my problem.

“I’ll see you around,” I mutter flatly over my shoulder as I push through the crowd toward the front door, never once looking back.

“Jude!” Natasha calls behind me, but I keep walking.

I’ll text Bennett later. He’s probably already found a girl anyway. He doesn’t need to know about the blonde. I plan on forgetting her myself just as soon as I get home. I usually run in the mornings, but tonight I’ll take on the city’s abandoned asphalt until I can’t fucking move if it means I’ll go back to the way I felt thirty minutes ago— before I saw her.

As I stumble out onto the curb, I inhale a mouthful of crisp night air, trying to cleanse my senses. After a few more clarifying breaths, I realize that seeing that girl, that Angel, was probably the closest I’ll ever come to finding love at first sight. A twisting sensation pierces my gut at the thought.

Good thing I lost my heart four years ago or I’d be a fool for leaving without getting her name and number.

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