Apricots - Ruel Van Dijk

Chapter 11 - Gucci Jacket

Teliah's POV

The rain and wind stopped blowin'
But you're stuck out in the same ol' storm again
You hold tight to your umbrella

It had been around 12 hours since Ruel had left. I should've felt relieved. I should've felt good that I had gotten him out of my life after I realised he was just like every other guy. But I didn't. If anything, I felt terrible. I felt like I should've begged him to stay. I wanted to believe he was bad. Because he was. But the kiss felt so raw and real I just couldn't convince myself he was as terrible as I had thought.

He's probably manipulative; he's kissed thousands of girls I bet. I frowned, pouring a shot of tequila into a glass. I grabbed a small plate and grinded some salt onto it, sliding both the plate and the drink to the man who had ordered it.

I closed my eyes and leant back on the bar. I had to get him out of my head. He was manipulative and a bad person. End of story. That should've been it. But why was there that tiny piece of my conscience saying otherwise? Why was there just that tiny voice in the back of my mind saying he wasn't bad? It was all so confusing.

"T," I heard Rory say from in front of me. I peeled my eyes open to see her freckled face and bouncy curls. "What's wrong? You've been off all shift," she asked bluntly, sensing something was wrong.

Rory had always been extremely emotionally intelligent, meaning she could very easily sense how I was feeling. Which meant there was no lying to her. But I just did not have the energy to explain the whole story, so I just decided I wouldn't.

"Nothing, I feel superb," I plastered a smile, really unsure about where the word superb came from. I don't think I had ever used superb in a sentence...ever.

"No, no you do not. Don't lie to me. What happened T?" she insisted, making me huff.

"Can you lay off? I'm fine!" I grumbled, brushing past her to serve the next customer. I didn't want to explain. Then I would have to relive the experience. And I didn't want to relive the love I'd felt in that kiss, and then the sorrow I'd felt afterward. I had to distract myself. I just had too. 

*

It had been a long shift of creepy guys and mindless drink making. I had to think of nothing rather than the something I knew I'd think about if I didn't. And now I was walking home beside Rory, silently. I knew she wanted me to explain to her what had happened. But I just avoided speaking.

"Teliah, please tell me what happened. I don't know how long I can watch you in this state," she begged, making me sigh. She just wasn't going to give up. But I refused to tell her, because I knew if I talked about it, I'd want to go back to him. And I really didn't want to.

"I can't." was all I said. It was plain, straightforward and blunt. Typical Teliah. Rory didn't question me further after that, but I knew she was dying to. I pretended I didn't though. If I pretended I didn't know how much she was mentally begging to tell her, I wouldn't feel as bad about it. It sounds selfish, I know. But I just wasn't dealing with whatever this was. I was just pushing it away, because I knew if I accepted the fact, I'd have to let go. Let go of him. Let go of his hands in my hair, his lips on mine, his encapsulating scent, too encapsulating. And deep down I knew I didn't want to let that go. Not yet.

 Not ever. 

I grimaced at the thought and quickly shook my head, making the thought go away.

"Just know I'm here for you, even if you won't tell me, yeah?" Rory smiled at me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I glanced over at her, weakly smiling. Rory was a truly great friend, definitely deserving of someone who would treat her better than I did. 

By the time she had spoken that sentence, we were standing outside our apartment complex. We said quick goodbyes and headed to our own places, like every night.

*

I couldn't sleep that night. I was tossing and turning constantly. I couldn't help it. Every time I closed my eyes it was like I was reliving the moment. I could see his damn face. I could clearly picture his little freckles, the overwhelming amount of colour in his eyes, his weird, who am I kidding, hot hairstyle. At one point I swore I could feel his breath on my face, that I could smell him, but when I opened my eyes, nobody was there. And every time I'd almost fall asleep, I'd watch him lean towards me, so close I could feel his lips lightly brushing mine, and I'd wake up. 

I sat up after the 3rd time of that happening. I couldn't go through it again. Am I okay? Am I going insane? Why is this happening? I'm supposed to hate him. He used me. So why am I dreaming of him? None of it made any sense. And I remembered. I still had his jacket. 

I jumped out of bed and started frantically searching for it. Who even knows why? At 3:30 in the morning, I didn't need a reason. I just had an urge to find it. I eventually did. I spotted the brown checkered fabric in the corner of my room, barely visible in the dark. I must've dumped it when I got home the previous morning, too tired and hurt to think of what I was wearing. I picked it up shakily, the fabric feeling smooth under my fingertips. I nearly gasped. It smelt exactly like him. That must've been what I was smelling earlier.

I spotted a fair amount of capital Gs hidden among the plaid. Gucci. So it was an expensive jacket. Where was he from? If he had enough money to buy a gucci suit, why was he wandering in the dodgy streets of London late at night, alone. I understood the urge to get away, to escape, but with money like this, you could get undercover agents to transport you where you need to go. Something wasn't adding up. I placed the suit back down, a ring falling out of the pocket as I did.

I picked it up, curious as to what it was. It was a white gold ring, looking undoubtedly just as expensive as his suit was. I figured it would've just been a random ring, as he was wearing some when I was with him. But the ring looked too small to be a men's ring. It looked to belong to someone with fairly slender fingers. As I was examining it, I felt a couple grooves in the surface of the metal. An engraving. I squinted, not able to read the letters too well in the dark. But when I was finally able to decipher what was written on the ring, my eyes widened.

Written in perfectly straight letters, were three words. Three simple words.

Kate Van Dijk.

I was holding the Queen of England's wedding ring.

a/n

ello baes, idek where this chapter came from i just whipped it up, so er yeah.

ily treat yourself nicely please:)

- Bri <3🍇

Word Count: 1261