Chapter 84 Men like you
CHAPTER 84: Men like you
Chauncey
The air on the terrace was a mercy— cold and biting enough to cut through the layers of emotions that threatened to suffocate me inside the ballroom. On my way out, I had intercepted a bottle of bourbon from a passing tray. I grabbed not just a glass, but a whole damn bottle…I didn't care who saw. The event was yet to be in full swing, but I needed to breathe, to reclaim a bit of my sanity.
I reached the stone balustrade and cracked the seal, taking a swig of the harsh, amber liquid. It burned a trail down my throat that finally made me feel something again after feeling numb for a while.
Leaning back against the stone walls, I stared at the moon, wondering how messed up everything had become. I knew that Sam was going to be back one day, but it didn’t soften the harsh punch that seeing her again dealt me.
I took another swig, the sound of a soft heel on stone catching my attention. I turned towards the entrance, just in time to see Cherry come into view.
She saw me and stopped dead. For a heartbeat, she looked like she had seen a ghost, but then her face hardened, and she turned on her heel to head back into the ballroom.
“Why do you always do that?” I called out, my voice rougher than the bourbon. She stopped, but her back was still turned to me. “Why do you always avoid me?”
She finally turned, her shoulders rising and falling with a jagged breath. “What are you talking about? I came here for some air…some peace and quiet. But it's obvious I won't get it, so I'm leaving.
I scoffed. “Is that so?”
“Don't be melodramatic. It's not too deep.”
I chuckled dryly. “It's not?” I inclined my head slightly. “Why is it that you’re so determined to think the absolute worst of me the second I’m in your line of sight?”
Her beautiful eyes were bright with a defensive fire. “Because it’s safer that way.”
I frowned, genuinely confused. “Safer that you are absolutely rude to me? What do you mean?”
“It’s better to avoid the world of trouble that comes with men like you,” she spat. “And in addition, I think I’ve had quite enough of the Rutherford brand of ‘hospitality’ for one night.”
That stung.
She had already judged me and found me not worthy, even without knowing a thing about me. I usually never cared what others thought of me.
It hit a nerve I didn't know was still exposed, and I let out a bitter, jagged scoff.
“Men like me? And what exactly is that supposed to mean, red?” I said getting off the wall and advancing slowly towards her.
There was a flutter in her throat, and she blinked, a bit anxious as I drew nearer to her. But she stood her ground.
“Tell me, is a man like Lucas better? Is he safer? Guaranteed not to bring you any ‘world of trouble’ because he wears a softer mask?” My words turned to pure granite.
“Lucas is none of your concern!” she snapped, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and apprehension. “What I do and who I do it with has nothing to do with you. It means nothing to you, just like your affairs mean nothing to me.”
I halted briefly, then moved forward with more purpose and speed in my stride. I closed the gap between us, invading her personal space until I could smell her scent and the faint fragrance of whatever floral soap she had used.
“You’re wrong. It is my concern,” I refuted, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration. “It’s my business because I see it, Cherry.”
“See what?”
“I see the same goddamn feelings I have for you reflected in your eyes every time you look at me. You can try to deny it, but I know that I affect you too. Just like you mess with my head.”
“Stop it,” she whispered, taking a step back, shaking her head, determined to pull away. “Stop imagining things that aren't there and never will be.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Yes,” she snapped. I could never have anything to do with you. Never.”
That blow landed quite well. “Wow. I must be quite disgusting to you.”
“Did you hear your sister? Tap water?” she scoffed, folding her arms. “Did you see the way she looked at me? Like I was something she stepped on?” She let out a harsh, watery laugh.
I couldn't say anything in Claudia’s defense. I just stood there, watching her fume and vent.
There was a flash of disappointment in her eyes. She chuckled, mirthlessly.
“Of course. What was I expecting?” she shrugged. “You wouldn't be any different from her. You’re just a playboy, Chauncey. A Casanova with a drink in his hand and nothing but hollow feelings. You’re just looking for a new game. God forbid I allow myself to become your entertainment sport,” she spat, harshly.
The words were the most harrowing physical blow. The fight drained out of me all at once, replaced by a hollow, cold clarity.
I stepped back, the weight of her words, finally crushing the dumb hope I’d been stupidly nursing.
“Fine,” I said, my voice dead and flat. “I heard you loud and clear. From now on, you don't have to worry about me disturbing you or appearing in front of you anymore. I’ll keep my distance…Cherry. I promise you won’t have to deal with the ‘trouble’ of me ever again. Enjoy your evening.”
She stood, rooted to the spot.
Her expression shifted, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her features, but I didn't wait to see if it was relief.
I turned away, back to the balustrade, back to my bourbon bottle, and took another long, punishing swig of the liquid.
I heard her footsteps retreat and I assumed she had finally left to head back into the ballroom.
I blamed no one but myself for even daring to imagine or nurse the notion that she might see me for who I really was.
But then, the footsteps stopped. And when instead it began to get nearer. I turned around to see her behind me.
I frowned. “Did you forget something—”
She closed the gap between us and grabbed the lapels of my jacket with a desperate, crushing force.
Before I could breathe, before I could ask another question, she rose on her toes and pulled me down, crashing her lips against mine.