We were a Ticking Bomb [On Hold]

8-Staff Party My Ass

It was probably only a couple of weeks later that I was invited to my first staff party at the Hotel Oliva. I had no idea what to expect, and I had asked María what I was expected to wear. She dismissed me pretty quickly, telling me that she was an old lady and she didn't pay attention to those things. But she assured me that no matter what I wore, it would be fine; there would be people really nicely dressed, and others in their sportswear.

I'm glad I didn't really listen to that last bit of advice, because as I walked into the function room in the first floor of the hotel, I was surprised at how nicely everybody was dressed. Hot damned, it was fancy!

The room was huge, decorated with a really cute snowy Christmas theme even if it was the middle of July. The idea was to celebrate early, because we would be buried in so much work come December, that there would be no time for it. They called it a mid year Christmas party, pretty stupid if you ask me, but who am I to judge.

The first half of the party was a bit weird, awkward, but chill. I saw John hanging out with people from the front of house and office, and I kept my distance, chatting with the chefs and mostly with María.

In the end, I had decided to wear a pair of ripped jeans that showed off my curves pretty well, and a crop top with long sleeves. I'm just going to say it, I looked good, and freaking sexy if I might admit it. I had a full face of makeup, but I kept it in that 'I'm not wearing makeup' kind of style, except for my lips, which I had painted bright red. The looks I got from the chefs when I walked in the room, I'm not gonna lie, I felt flattered.

I spent most of the afternoon eating delicious canapes and drinking glass after glass of bubbles while standing in a little circle with my BOH family. I remember one particular moment, when I was stealing my thousandth glance at John, and I found him looking at me. I swear his eyes were shining with lust, and it made my insides twist. I looked straight into his eyes, and wrapped my arm around Marco's waist, who was standing next to me.

"Needing some support gorgeous?" he asked me. "Don't tell me you're that drunk already?" he added with a wink.

"Oh, Marco! Don't be stupid!" I quipped, my eyes still on John. "I'm not that drunk, not yet, but my feet hurt," I said as I finally turned around and looked at my Puerto Rican friend.

"Well, that's an easy fix my love, we can go sit by the couches for a while," he suggested.

I'd like to say I thought about it for a moment, or that I was holding Marco's feeling in consideration, but the truth is that after a few weeks of nothing, I just wanted to see if I could get a reaction out of John. I was being sassy, immature, and probably a little childish, but that was just me, and truth be told, I was actually a little bit more drunk than what I was letting on.

I walked over to the couches in the corner with Marco, his arms around my shoulders and mine still around his waist. He sat down first, and patted the seat next to him, inviting me to join. I sat close, way closer than it was necessary, our thighs brushing and his arm back around my shoulders.

What did I expect? For John to come over and claim me? For him to give me a dirty look? To come over and tell me I shouldn't be like this in a public place?

He didn't come over. He glanced at me, his eyes dark and foreign, and I kept talking nonsense with Marco. I asked him how long he'd been working there, living in that town, and what Puerto Rico was like. I wish I could tell you I remember the conversation, or what his answers where, but all I remember from that night, is looking at John. Using every ounce of power to wish for him to come over, to have an excuse to be closer to him.

And then my excuse came.

I saw him walk out the glass doors to my right, fishing for his smokes and lighter in his back pocket. I was up in a second, my head spinning and my feet uncoordinated as I stood up.

"I need a smoke," I told Marco quickly, and before he could answer, I was out the glass door.

To my surprise, there was no one else in the baranda. My luck was just like that, he might not care for me, but I kept finding perfect moments to be alone with him, to tease him. I wasn't gracious about it, damn, I was pissed by them. All the bubbles had gone right up to my head, and the world was hazy. I walked up to him, and slid an arm around his waist, standing by his side.

He jumped up, and looked down at me with a frown; but then he relaxed and smirked.

"Still hanging out with that ass, I see," he said.

"Marco is not an ass," I replied, letting go of my embrace and pushing him away with both my palms against his chest. He had ignored me all night long, and now he had the nerve to insult the one person that had been by my side all night? Insult Marco? Who had actually been stupidly nice and had brought me drinks and held me every time I tripped? "You are the ass! Marco is my friend!" I yelled, maybe a little too loud.

John grabbed me by the wrists and pushed me back until my back hit a wall. I was confused at first, until I realised he was getting us out of view from the party goers. In that corner, we were out of sight from everybody.

"Shh," he shushed me, leaning closer to me. "Don't make a scene, I have all eyes on me tonight," he said in a whisper, almost brushing his lips against my ear.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, still too loud.

"Business, you wouldn't get it," he replied.

"Try me," I reciprocated.

"There's no point," he replied, almost sounding angry. "You could never understand the business going on around here."

I wanted to tell him I had a college degree, that I was a smart girl and I was sure I could understand. I wanted to show him I was most likely smarter than him, but for some reason, I didn't. Being right there, my wrists still trapped under his embrace, his tall body towering over me, I felt small. I felt like he was right, I probably wouldn't get it.

So I didn't argue, and because I kept silent, John let go of me. He walked towards the baranda, put his cigarettes away, and after looking at me for a moment, he walked back inside to the party.

I didn't get it then. And I'm barely just getting it now. But that night, something shifted. The alpha that John craved to be, the power that he emanated, had dimmed the fire in my chest. It had made me step back, had made me back down. Like a little puppy, I had cowered against the corner and let him dominate me.

That was not the Salt I used to be, but it seemed like it was the one I was about to become.