Forgetting You

Chapter 10

I've been on the balcony for the last three hours. I know that we don't technically plan to have drinks and hang out here every night but we've been doing it for two weeks now and it's become normal. We don't ask each other, we just show up. She drinks her wine and I drink my beer. We talk until exhaustion takes over, usually hitting her first, and then we call it a night. But for the past two days, something has changed. She's been quieter, a bit distant, and I can't seem to figure out why. Maybe I said something, or maybe the Prosecco was too much too soon.

It's now nearly eleven and she hasn't been home yet. I know because all the lights in her house are off, devoid of any signs of life. I contemplate sending her a text, but I remind myself that I'm not her boyfriend anymore. She made that abundantly clear in the past, and I don't want to jeopardize the progress we've made so far.

I let out a sigh as I look over at her balcony for the millionth time, only to see that nothing has changed. As disappointment starts to settle in, my phone pings, interrupting my train of thought. I swiftly reach for it, my heart momentarily leaping with the hope that it's a message from Chloe, only to find that it's from Remington.

Remington: Hey, Chloe is here at the bar. I think you should probably come get her. She's pretty wasted.

Me: On my way.

Without hesitation, I spring up from my chair, grab my wallet, and make my way out the door towards the bar. The ten-minute walk feels more like a five-minute jog as I hurry to get there. As I step inside, the bar is bustling with activity, filled with the an unexpectedly large crowd for a Wednesday night. I make a beeline for the counter, maneuvering through the crowd of people where Remi is engrossed in conversation with Anna Claire while pouring beers.

I reach the bar, placing both hands on it and leaning over the edge. Cutting straight to the chase, I ask, "Where is she?" My head turns to scan through the sea of people, and Remi points in the direction of a group engaged in a game of beer pong. There stands Chloe, in another dress, far too nice for Foghorns, clearly intoxicated, giggling and leaning on some guy to maintain her balance. I feel a twinge of annoyance mixed with jealousy as I look over.

Leaning closer to Remi across the bar counter, I raise my voice slightly to be heard over the music. "How much did she drink?" I ask.

"Only two shots and a tequila sunrise," Anna Claire confesses beside me, her voice filled with regret. "We took them together. I didn't realize she was that much of a lightweight."

I glance at Anna Claire, shaking my head in response. "She's not usually a lightweight. It's just when she drinks tequila," I explain.

I shift my gaze to Remi, frustration evident in my tone as I question him, "I thought told you not to serve her tequila the last time I was here."

Remi furrows his brows, his hands busy crafting another cocktail behind the bar. "I tried, Henry," he defends himself. "But she can be very persuasive."