After You (Because of You 2)

Bartender smirks, reaching behind him to grab a bottle of liquor. “That’s no way to live. Pull out that stick and let your freak flag fly.”

“Right?” I say enthusiastically. “I keep telling myself I need to keep from ever making such a horrifyingly bad decision as I made before, or my mom made, or… every woman besides Bethany who has ever been with my dad has made, but you know what? At the cost of never having fun? Fuck that.”

“Hell yeah,” he agrees, sliding my drink across the bar top.

Leaning over more, I inexplicably reach out and touch his arm. “Can I see your tattoo? I like those a lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm hmm. Tattoos are really sexy. Is that Captain America’s shield?”

“It is. You a Marvel girl?”

“All superheroes are bullshit. People suck. No one would sacrifice their whole life to run around saving people all the time.”

Nodding and leaning across the bar, he says, “You’ve got a point there. How about this? Just for you, I’ll have my next tattoo say ‘humanity sucks.’”

Eyes widening, I nod my vigorous approval. “Yes. You should. Then send me a picture.”

“Sure,” he says easily. “Give me your number.”

“Got a pen?” I ask.

“Nope. Got a phone though,” he says, pulling it out of his pocket.

Before the hot bartender can give me his phone, a mascu

line hand picks up my glass. “All right, that’s enough of that.”

I gasp, looking up to see who is ruining my fun. I expect to see Henry, but it’s Derek. Narrowing my eyes, I point at him. “You.”

“Yep, me. You have a boyfriend, and if you’re gonna get slutty and cheat on him with somebody, it’s gonna be me.”

“I will never cheat on anyone with you.”

“Again,” Derek adds, casually.

“Ugh. I was young and stupid and drunk.”

“And you’re definitely not drunk now,” he replies, shooting the bartender a dirty look before grabbing my arm and dragging me away.

“Let go of me,” I object. “That guy’s gonna get a tattoo for me. I want him to send me a picture.”

“That guy is not gonna get a fucking tattoo for you,” he says, continuing to drag me along.

“Bet you wouldn’t get a tattoo for me,” I tell him, carried away by drunk Nikki to a land of hot bartenders and their sexy tattoos.

“No?” Derek asks, turning back to look at me. “You don’t think I would?”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” I tell him. “I did earlier, but I don’t now. I want to have fun and move on with my life, and talking to you is the opposite of all that.”

“Talking to me can’t be fun?” he asks.

“No, it can’t, because you split my heart into a hundred million pieces, and every time I look at your stupid face, I remember that. Looking at you is like giving someone a knife, ripping open my chest, and begging them to plunge the blade in as hard and fast as they can until I die.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, then he says, “Wow. I really want to believe that’s the alcohol talking, but alcohol makes you honest, so…”

“If you don’t know you broke my heart, you’re a fucking idiot,” I tell him. Then, angry, I reach out and shove him in the chest. “I forgave you for everything. I broke every rule I had for you, Derek. I became a person I couldn’t respect for you. I was willing to give up everything just to have you, and even after all that sacrifice, you threw it in my fucking face. Leaving you was the first good decision I ever made in my whole life, and you know what? I have made a lot of good decisions since. And I’ve made bad decisions too, and all those bad decisions? They’re because of you. I live my life terrified to give my heart away, because when I gave it to you, you broke everything. You broke my heart. You broke my dreams. You broke the life I wanted, and I had to start over from scratch. You are the single worst thing that has ever happened to me.” I don’t realize I’m crying until the tears blur my vision, then I blink and a warm tear slides down my cheek.