Chapter 4

Getting ready for dinner on Friday, I was still struggling to believe what had happened. For the entire week I had clung to my phone, waiting for Nathan to call and say 'jokes on you' so I could go home. He hadn't. In fact there had been no contact whatsoever, an anomaly for my very close family. Realisation that I may no longer have a family was beginning to weigh heavy on my heart but I refused to break down just yet. Not until I had concrete reason to believe my uncle had really turned his back on me.

Initially I had gone to Michaela's, where I stayed on the Saturday night, but it could only be temporary. She had a roommate, one I didn't see eye to eye with, so I had gone to the next best thing. Michaela had met Stevie in college. Everyone had thought a relationship was going to bloom, but it never did. They became close friends and eventually Stevie and I grew into friends as well. It was his spare room that currently held me and my belongings. When I had turned up yesterday morning, he hadn't asked questions. He just held open his arms and said I was welcome for as long as I needed.

The friendship between Stevie and I was easy. From the moment we meant it just clicked. There was never any need to wonder if there was anything beyond friendship, because it was well established there was never going to be. Both of us are straight. Neither of us were interested. Really it was quite simple and would continue to be so long as I was careful around his male friends.

It hadn't taken long for my office to discover I had been kicked out. When they heard, sympathy was doled out in batches and everyone tread on egg shells. The close relationship between my family and I had never been a secret. Often Viv would stop in with the girls on her way to see Nathan or to go get lunch. Every member of the team had heard the tale of Nathan Huxley working his way up the Sullivan ladder.

The two girls who worked on reception, Lisa and Jone, had made it their personal responsibility to keep my blues at bay. I would receive funny emails and lunch invitations from them daily. Tom had been much the same. Taking me with him to all his work commitments even when I wasn't needed. In trying to keep up with all my babysitters, I had double booked myself this morning. Lucky for me, Lisa and Jone had no problem doubling with Stevie and I, and lunch had gone well.

A little too well. It was why I was now cursing the mirror as I attempted to apply liquid eyeliner. My friends had all decreed that tonight I needed to get out of the house. More specifically that clubbing would solve my problems. No amount of bitching and whining was getting me out of this, they had said, so I was left to suck it up. Stevie had apparently called Michaela. Arriving home I had been bombarded by my highly excited best friend, shrieking that she had already picked the perfect outfit for me and set it on my bed.

One day she and I were going to have to have a discussion over her definition of 'outfit'. I wasn't convinced what she organized had enough fabric to constitute clothing. The dress boasted impressive cut out sections virtually everywhere. Flat out refusing, I chose to dress myself. San Francisco was cool at the best of times and if I was being forced out, I wanted to be somewhat comfortable.

Compared to the other girls my black jeans and leather jacket made me appear the literal black sheep. Michaela had feared I wouldn't be allowed in, so my otherwise casual outfit had been blinged out with impressive statement jewellery and shoes.

"What do you want to drink?" Stevie yelled at us over the thumping bass.

The club itself was divided into two sections. The first section was elevated and contained the bar and seating areas. All the walls were bare except one, which had projections of dancers and music videos playing in tune with the music. The lower area housed the dance floor. Smoke machines blew out plums of white cloud while lights lasered and danced along with the occupants.

A few drinks later, we hit the dance floor. My clubbing inexperience was evident as I danced next to my friends. They were all hips and legs, with their arms raised for the first while. Soon enough Michaela was dancing with an attractive stranger and Lisa had her arms snaked around Stevie's neck. Jone, being in a happily committed relationship, stuck with me. We were having a ball, dancing like idiots. There wasn't a chance any of the men in the establishment found what we were doing sexy, but we didn't care.

During our perfect synchronization of the pumpkin patch, a line of surly girls barreled past. Dressed in outfits so tiny it was impossible to be certain they weren't just wearing underwear. Pushing past us, they literally pushed me. I was certain I was about to fall flat on my ass when a pair of hands snaked out and caught my arms. In the smokey haze, questionable lighting, and my slightly inebriated state, I was struggling to make out his face. It wasn't until he spoke in my ear that the chills of recognition shot down my spin and warmed my lower belly.

"You should really take better care, Ava." He whispered for a second time.

"Mr Sullivan. Hi."

I sounded embarrassingly breathy when I spoke. It was impossible not to. The blazer he was wearing over his white dress shirt emphasised the width of his shoulders, making it feel like he was everywhere. The sensation made me nervous – among other things. In heels I only had to crane my neck a little to see his face and instantly regret it. The manic pattern of the lights reflected in his eyes, changing their colours and giving them a wild edge.

It could easily be the alcohol mixing with the atmosphere, but I suddenly felt really overwhelmed.

"I need some air." I told him, reaching up to his ear.

Locating my friends again, I leaned in to tell Jone where I was going and asked her to pass it on. She offered to come with me, but with every sound causing thunder in my skull I was eager for a moment alone. Moving through the crowd, I received an excited thumbs up from Michaela. Someone was getting lucky tonight.

Quickly as I could I found a seat in the courtyard area. The space was a designated "smokers area", a requirement if you didn't allow people to enter twice. Wrapping my arms around my knees was challenging with hells, but I managed. With closed eyes I rested my forehead on my knees and concentrated on taking deep breaths.

"Are you alright?" There was no need to look up to know it was Braxton. I thought he stayed inside when I left.

"I'm not feeling too good, but I'll be fine."

"Here. Drink." He said, placing a water bottle next to me.

Crossing my legs, I took a sip. It was a clear night and the stars were clear in the sky. The winds that normally annoyed me were blowing the wisps of my hair and bringing me a little closer to human. Bass was still beating against the building but sound like more of a persistent hum than a banging now that I was outside. Braxton was still hovering over me with glaring eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you're alright. Finish that bottle." He commanded

"If you say so."

Tipping my head back, I did what I was told and gulped down the water. For a moment the cool liquid felt wonderful. Unfortunately the alcohol revolted against it and my stomach was in uproar. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I flung myself from the seat to the garden. Vomitting was something I actively avoided. No chicken or fish from unknown food outlets, daily vitamins to keep my immune system up. As the contents of my stomach poured out of my mouth tears stung my eyes and Braxton rubbed soft circles on my back.

"Go away." I choked out between bursts.

He simply chuckled and continued with his circles. When I finally stopped, I was exhausted. My entire body was shuddering. Braxton handed me a napkin and I smiled a thanks. Wiping my face, I notice the room multiply. Shaking my head and blinking, I did my best to rectify my vision.

"I think I'm okay." Was the kiss of death as my knees hit the ground.

Author's Note:

Hey guys, I'm really interested to hear any feedback - constructive or otherwise. Hope you're enjoying it :)