The Early Years of His Royal Highness the Prince Consort, (1819 - 1841), Compiled Under the Direction of Her Majesty the Queen by Charles Grey; by Grey Charles

Author:Grey, Charles [Grey, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781150810039
Amazon: 1150810033
Goodreads: 9492445
Publisher: Rarebooksclub.com
Published: 1859-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Derek

The woman who introduces herself to me at the bar doesn’t want a drink. I offer, to be nice, but she says she already has wine back at her table. So, I only buy two beers. One for me and one for Whitney. It’s an accident. As soon as I put in the order, I remember Whitney already has a drink courtesy of Ryan.

Her pal.

I probably could have handled that situation a little better, could have clapped Ryan on the shoulder and acted like I was happy to see him, but honestly, I wasn’t. I’m sick of seeing his face. Sick of him standing in my way.

While I wait on the bartender to bring back the beers, the woman tries hard to carry the conversation for the both of us. I can’t remember her name right after she says it and she has to ask a question twice before I realize she’s waiting for an answer. I smile and apologize. She tries one more time to make conversation, and when I reply with a one-word response, she finally just gives up and walks away.

I’m glad to see her go. I didn’t come to the bar to make small talk. I came for Whitney and now she’s off somewhere, alone with Ryan.

That bitter thought keeps me planted on my stool. If I’m going to have to face them together, I need more couth than I can muster at the moment. I stay at the bar and sip my beer, half-focused on the football game playing on the TV in front of me.

I try on a brave face, relaxing my fists so they don’t accidently inflict bodily harm on Ryan. I’ve never been a jealous barbarian. Dragging Ryan out of the bar by the collar won’t solve my problems. Besides, he doesn’t deserve that.

Eventually, I force myself to get up, but it’s too late. It took me too long to compartmentalize my feelings for Whitney because by the time I grab her beer and what’s left of mine then turn to find them, they’re gone.

“Are you looking for Whitney?” a girl asks. I recognize her from rehearsals, but I don’t know her name off the top of my head. I think she’s one of the elves from the Enchanted Forest.

I nod.

She points to the door. “She left a while ago.”

“With Ryan?”

Apparently, my annoyance over the idea is visible because her eyes widen. I consciously loosen my grip on the neck of my beer in an effort to look less like a lunatic.

“No. They left a few minutes apart. It looked like they were fighting or something beforehand. Anyway, someone said Whitney was sick outside, throwing up. Not a good look, if you ask me.”

I didn’t ask you.

Without another word, I drop the drinks on a nearby table and head for the door. If she’s still out there, I’ll help her. Even with everything going on, I’ll help take care of her if she needs me.

Once outside, I look for her, circling the entire bar, but she’s gone.

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