“Affair? There was no affair!”
“That’s not what I’ll tell her.”
She was a sociopath. An actual sociopath.
My gut twisted into knots from stress. At the other end of the bar, Leanne was leaving with a tray of fresh drinks. She shot me a questioning look as if to ask, You need saving, mate?
I shook my head, and she nodded, continuing on her way. I brought my attention back to Annabelle.
“Are you even hearing yourself? This is madness. If you do that, Callum will never want you.”
“Yes, he will,” she spat. “You made me fall for him, and now you’re going to make it real. You owe me that much.”
I stared at her, mouth agape. She’d … fallen in love with him? “You can’t fall for someone through messages, especially not if you haven’t even met in person,” I said.
“It felt like I had met him, though, through watching the show. And then the messages.” Her voice cracked, and for a second, her vulnerability shone through. My defensiveness dropped as guilt flooded in.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
“No! You don’t get to be all sorry and apologetic. You made me fall in love with someone who doesn’t even exist. This is all your fault.”
Finally, I truly understood. Annabelle was heartbroken and latching at straws. She was trying to force something to be real, even though a part of her must’ve known it never could be. I knew how that felt. Before I met Afric, I would sometimes wish that I was Callum. I’d convinced myself that life would be so much easier if I were him.
“Listen, let’s just go back to the table, have one more drink, and then call it a night. This isn’t going to work. Leanne has already noticed you’ve been flirting with Callum.”
Just like that, the vulnerability vanished, replaced with flinty determination. “No way. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. You’re going to see this night through and as many other nights as it takes for Callum to finally drop that bitch.”
“Annabelle, you can’t be serious. Just think about this for a second,” I said, but she was no longer listening. She strode back to the booth, and wearily, I followed.
This night was no longer merely a nightmare. It was actual hell.
I slid into the booth, my arm brushing Afric’s, and our gazes met. Leanne was right. Afric had been drinking way too much. She was already halfway through the fresh drink Leanne had just gotten her from the bar.
“Are you okay?” I murmured to her quietly, my hand gently brushing her knee. A shiver seemed to go through her, and I felt it just the same. The connection between us was pulled taut, vulnerable to snapping at any moment. With this whole Annabelle situation, everything was still very much up in the air.
“I don’t think anyone here is okay,” she whispered back candidly. “Well, aside from Callum, who miraculously seems clueless that Annabelle has been undressing him with her eyes all night.”
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “Well, they do say ignorance is bliss,” I replied just as Annabelle’s voice cut through our conversation.
“I love being a personal trainer, but my long-term goal is to own my own gym one day.”
“Wow, that’s ambitious,” Callum replied.
“Yes, and I pride myself on that. I can’t stand it when people have no ambition, you know? Or worse, when they have potential but are too lazy to tap into it. I know so many people who never bothered to leave my hometown. They’re just stuck there working in these dead-end jobs.”
“That’s a very judgemental thing to say,” Afric interjected loudly, drawing Annabelle’s attention.
Annabelle shook her head. “I disagree. I’m being honest. If more people were honest, the world would be a far better place.”
Afric was already shaking her head. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I livestream to thousands of people daily.” I could tell from the way she spoke that she was drunk, and I wondered if I should intervene.
Annabelle scoffed. “Sure, you do.”
“I do! It’s my job. I’m a gamer. Ask Neil.”
“It’s true,” I said before reaching out to touch Afric’s arm. “Perhaps I should get you a glass of water.”
“No water! I’m trying to make a point.” She jerked away, turning her attention back to Annabelle. “There’s no lack of honesty out there, believe me, especially not online. I deal with the brutally honest opinions of people in the comments section every single day. If anything, people are far too honest.”
“She’s not wrong,” Leanne agreed. “I came to a point where I had to stop reading the comments. They were messing with my head.”
“Exactly,” Afric exclaimed. “That kind of critical honesty can be helpful in small doses, but when it’s a constant onslaught, your mental health suffers. And about the other thing, not everybody gets joy out of being ambitious. Some people find happiness in the familiar. Take my older sister, Helen, as an example. She suffers from anxiety, but the way she manages it and lives a fulfilling life is through routine. She’s always lived at home with my parents, hates travelling, has slept in the same room her entire life, but she’s happy. She’s a homebird. Our parents are her best friends, and they adore her company. Some people might see her situation and feel sorry for her, but that’s just because they’re judging her by their own desires and ambitions. I always aspired to live in a big, diverse city like London, but I don’t judge the people who still live in the town where they grew up. Just because you live in one place doesn’t mean exciting things don’t happen. It doesn’t mean that you don’t still have stories to tell and things to talk about. I think if we all accepted that it’s fine to want to live a big, flashy life just as much as it’s fine to live a small, quiet one, then that’s what would make the world a better place.”