Unintended

“No, of course not,” the guy said quickly. “You look fine.”

Even in the dark, I could see his cheeks flush and I bit my lip to stop myself laughing. The blush didn’t entirely match his look; dark hair, beard, tall and broad-shouldered. He didn’t look like a man who blushed. He wasn’t setting off my weirdo radar though, so I said, “Why are you out here? Surely the support act wasn’t so bad that you had to miss the main event too?”

“I meant to go back in. But…” He shrugged.

“Aren’t you cold?” I eyed his exposed arms and he shivered.

“Yeah.”

I was usually pretty good at reading people, but I couldn’t decide if he wanted to keep talking to me or not. I felt as though I’d interrupted him in a moment of deep thought, which, of course, I hadn’t meant to do. Now we were just two strangers standing on a bridge.

“Are you going back in?” he asked.

I glanced over at the club, the music perfectly audible from where we stood. In fact, it sounded better. I could hear the lyrics properly now, while inside it just sounded like noise.

“I don’t think so. This was a mistake.”

A massive, somewhat costly mistake. Because what had I even achieved? I’d basically driven down south to watch a band that hadn’t released any tour dates closer to home, spent an insanely long time trying to build my confidence enough to spend two nights alone in a hotel, and still not managed to see the damn band I’d paid to see because I’d freaked out. During the totally crap support act, I’d found a seat as far back as the club allowed, and it meant a large part of the noise and vibrations was cancelled out. I’d thought I was okay enough to get closer to the stage when the main act began, but I had totally underestimated how crazy rock fans are, especially when they’ve been drinking.

“I’m not going back in either,” the guy said. “I’m not really feeling it anymore.”

“Okay.”

Well, this is awkward…

I needed to get back to my hotel. All I wanted was a hot cup of tea and to climb into the king-sized bed to warm up. But it also felt oddly wrong to leave this guy behind. I couldn’t explain it, but something told me he was lonely, and that was the worst feeling in the world. When he didn’t speak for another few moments, I decided perhaps being alone was what he wanted and I said, “I think I’m going to go. It was nice meeting you.”

He gave me a small smile. “You too.”

With a roll of my eyes, I read the text message on my phone screen. Evie, please. I need to see you x

I threw my phone back in my bag and sank down onto the bed in my hotel room.

What a total freaking disappointment the evening had been.

It was supposed to be the start of something for me. The start of learning to live again, but, as it turned out, I still wasn’t ready. I sat on the bed in my hotel room and threw my head back in defeat.

This was it. This was going to be my life. Sure, occasionally my still-married friends would go out for dinner with me, or to the local pub, but if I wanted to do something that was supposed to be a blowing off steam, slightly wild night out, I was on my own. And since it was clear I couldn’t even do that right, I was destined for evenings in front of the TV, watching soaps and slowly losing my mind until I reached old age and vanished from the world with nobody to notice I was gone.

Get. A. Grip.

This was a totally normal thought process for me, though, and had been since my divorce two years ago. It wasn’t even an awful divorce, really. It didn’t have any of the animosity other couples had to deal with, and yet it had still left me feeling worthless. Soulless. That was why I’d ignored the text from him. My ex, Jay. This wasn’t the time.

I’d hoped I’d return from my night out with a satisfied smile that I’d achieved something new.

It might have been crappy, but I had done it.

Then why didn’t I feel even the slightest sense of achievement?

Because you didn’t enjoy it. Because you felt out of place.

My anxiety had well and truly kicked my ass. Again.

Even though I was tired from my earlier panic attack, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep yet.

“Screw it.”

I spoke the words into the empty room. I took off my t-shirt and grabbed my favourite oversized grey woolly jumper from my bag. I loved the fact that it was so big, and the sleeves were too long. It was totally unflattering, but what did I care? I pulled my rain-damp dark brown hair over my shoulder and secured it with a hairband, picked up my phone, purse, and key card, and headed downstairs to the bar.