The Heartbroken - S01 E07

Story 2 years ago

The Heartbroken - S01 E07

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 7

continues

He laughed, the sound

deep and somehow able

to stand out against

the loud music and

shouting and noise.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

He shrugged before

sending me a glance.

“Not yet.”

I groaned, and it must

have been half-true.

Ticklish parts are like

weaknesses. I’ve had

enough with living a life

full of weaknesses, so I

wasn’t comfortable

with the fact that Seth

—or any other person

for that matter—knew

about my ticklish ears.

I know this probably

doesn’t matter to

others, but it does to

me.

“So.” He said, leaning me

through the crowd. “You

look great.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’ve probably said

that to every girl you’re

trying to seduce, which,

probably, means pretty

much every girl here.”

He laughed. “Okay, ouch.

You make me sound like

a manwhore.”

“You said that

yourself.” I smiled at

him. “But anyways, care

to tell me something

original this time?

Something you haven’t

told anyone else yet?”

“Something I’ve never

told anyone else yet…”

He thought—or at least

seemed to have—

about it before saying,

“You should smile more.

Makes you look angelic.”

My smile faltered for a

second, together with

my façade. I stared at

him, completely

dumbfounded.

“But of course, with so

many hearts you’ve

broken so far—you

probably aren’t that

angelic,” he quickly

added. I was thankful

that he did, because it

helped me recover from

my trance.

“You don’t know that,”

I said, “I’m actually

really angelic.”

“I bet you are.” He

nodded.

That was when it

happened. It might have

been some spilled beer

or a foot or a wire or

something—it could

have been anything,

really—but the next

thing I knew, I was

falling down, the floor

coming closer and

closer.

But he grabbed my hand

just in time, pulled me

up and locking me in his

embrace instead. He

pulled back, giving just

enough space for us to

look at each other.

“Whoa. Hey. You okay?”

I blinked, trying to

compose myself.

“Perfectly fine.”

“Okay.” When he

released me, I knew my

cheeks were flushed

because of my near-

falling-down-the-floor-

and-making-a-fool-of-

myself experience. “So,

how about some

drinks?”

Thinking about beer and

the fact that I was

supposed to drive

home, I bit my lower lip.

Maybe I could take a

cup or something, just

so he can’t say I’m a

bore, but I wouldn’t

really drink it.

“Are you driving home?”

he asked me.

“Sort of,” I replied. “But

maybe I can get a cup

or—”

“No.” His voice was

hard. Firm. Completely

different from his usual

breezy, cool self. I

couldn’t help but flinch

back, surprised. “I have

some non-alcoholic

drinks somewhere. You

can have those

tonight.” And just like

that, he was back.

He hadn’t apologized for

the sudden change, the

sudden harshness. He

hadn’t even

acknowledged it. It was

if it never happened.

So Seth Everett had

secrets too. Somehow,

this surprised me a lot.

“Come on. The drinks

are by the counter.”

I followed suit.

“I knew you would

come,” he told me over

the music as we made

our way through the

crowd.