Chapter 4: A Wise Gigolo?
(Rory's POV)
I scoffed, the sound bitter and involuntary, as I reached for the bottle of deep red grape wine with a sharp, almost aggressive motion. My fingers curled around its neck, the glass cool against my palm, and I tilted it to my lips without hesitation, chugging a large mouthful. The bitter burn scorched its way down my throat, sharp and unrelenting, but I welcomed it, craving the numbness it promised.
I gasped slightly as I pulled the bottle away, my breath hitching from the intensity of the alcohol, and slammed it back onto the counter with more force than necessary. The thud echoed in the quiet space, drawing a fleeting glance from the bartender before she turned back to her work.
My cheeks were already warm from the wine, but they darkened further as I felt Ethan's eyes on me, that infuriating stranger who'd decided to make himself at home in my misery.
I shot him a sidelong glance, my expression a mix of exasperation and feigned irritation, though the alcohol was starting to blur the edges of my restraint. "It's because of my stupid boyfriend," I blurted out, the words spilling from my lips before I could stop them, laced with a bitterness that tasted as sharp as the wine.
Ethan hummed, resting his chin against his palm, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah. The cause of all this wine abuse, I see."
I pressed my lips into a thin line, annoyed at myself for letting him goad me into speaking. But the alcohol had loosened my tongue, and the weight of everything I'd been carrying, Jonathan's betrayal, the months of longing, the shattered dreams, pushed the words out before I could hold them back. "I spent all this time studying abroad," I muttered, my voice dipping as the frustration and heartbreak clawed their way to the surface. "Long nights, endless exams, learning a new language, new culture… all of it. And when I finally came back, ready to pick up where we left off, I found the asshole with another woman."
The words hung in the air, heavy and raw, and I hated how vulnerable they made me feel. I gripped the bottle tighter, my knuckles whitening as I stared at the counter, avoiding Ethan's gaze. I didn't want his pity, didn't want anyone's. But the memory of that moment, was still on a loop in my mind, each replay twisting the knife deeper.
Ethan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in what I could only assume was mock sympathy. "Well, that's on you," he said lightly, taking a sip from the glass he'd stolen from me, his movements infuriatingly casual.
I froze mid-swallow, the wine burning my throat as I choked, coughing and gasping for air. I set the bottle down with a sharp clatter, my vision blurring from both the alcohol and the sheer audacity of his words. I turned to him, my glare fierce despite the haze clouding my thoughts. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded, my voice hoarse as I tried to steady myself, my hands gripping the edge of the counter.
Ethan raised his hands in mock innocence, his smirk widening as if my reaction was exactly what he'd been fishing for. "Relax, don't get all worked up just yet," he said, his tone slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every word. "All I'm saying is, when you leave something unattended for too long, there's always the chance someone else will come along and claim it. That doesn't make it right, but it's the nature of things, isn't it? Time changes people, distance makes hearts wander, and sometimes, absence does the opposite of making the heart grow fonder." He took another sip of wine, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief. "You gave him a lot of time to forget what he had, didn't you?"
His words hit like a slap, igniting a fire in my chest that burned hotter than the wine. My face darkened, a storm of anger and humiliation swirling inside me as memories of my time abroad flooded back.
The late-night video calls with Jonathan, his voice tinny through my laptop speakers, promising we'd be stronger for it. The way I'd poured my heart into those conversations, sharing every detail of my life. The triumphs, the struggles, the moments of loneliness, while he'd offered little more than vague updates and half-hearted reassurances. Had I been naive to think those calls were enough? Had I been fooling myself, believing he was waiting for me as faithfully as I was for him?
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," I snapped, my voice trembling with rage as I refused to let his words take root. It wasn't my fault. It couldn't be. I'd done everything right. Worked hard, stayed loyal, kept our connection alive despite the distance. Jonathan was the one who'd betrayed me, not the other way around.
Ethan shrugged, his smirk never faltering. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just the truth no one likes to admit."
My hands twitched with frustration, the urge to lash out nearly overwhelming. Before I could stop myself, I grabbed his collar, yanking him close with a strength I didn't know I had left. The fabric bunched under my fingers, and I glared into his eyes, my vision swimming slightly from the wine. "Are you just mocking me this whole time?" I demanded, my voice sharp despite the alcohol's haze. "Do you think this is funny?"
Ethan chuckled, tilting his head slightly, completely unfazed by my grip. "Mocking you? No, sweetheart," he said, his voice slipping into a teasing, almost lazy drawl. "I'm just having a little fun. You're the one who walked in here looking like someone chewed you up and spat you out, and now here you are, gripping my shirt like you're ready to start a fight. Quite feisty for a little fairy."
His words sent a fresh wave of irritation coursing through me, my fingers curling tighter against his collar as I raised my other hand, ready to slap that smug grin off his face. I could already imagine the satisfying sting of my palm against his cheek, the shock in his eyes as he realized I wasn't some damsel he could toy with. But as I swung, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over me, my vision tilting and blurring at the edges. My arm faltered mid-air, my body swaying as the room spun around me, the bar's dim lights smearing into streaks of gold and amber.
"What… what's happening?" I mumbled, alarm lacing my words as my limbs grew heavy, sluggish. My grip on his collar loosened, my fingers slipping as I took an involuntary step backward, the floor unsteady beneath me.
Ethan exhaled through his nose, dusting off his chest as he straightened his collar with a casual flick of his fingers. "I'd say you've officially reached your limit," he said, his voice tinged with amusement, though there was a hint of something softer beneath it, concern, maybe? "Not that I'm surprised. You've been downing that bottle like it's water for a while now."
My brow furrowed, my drowsy mind struggling to process his words. "What do you… mean?" I slurred, my voice slow and thick, each syllable a struggle. The room tilted again, my balance wavering as my feet shifted awkwardly beneath me. I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the smooth floor, and I braced myself for the impact, my heart lurching as I realized I was about to fall.
But before I could hit the ground, a strong arm wrapped swiftly around my waist, pulling me back into a firm, steady hold. The warmth of Ethan's touch against my skin sent an unexpected jolt through me, my dulled senses struggling to make sense of it. Was it the abrupt movement, the wine, or something else entirely that made my chest flutter? I couldn't tell, not with my head swimming and my body feeling like it was floating and sinking all at once.
"You really are a cute bundle of trouble," Ethan murmured, his tone laced with amusement, though his grip on me was steady, effortless, keeping me upright when my legs refused to cooperate. "I came here expecting to get a drink, not to catch a half-conscious firecracker practically throwing herself into my arms."
I tried to glare at him, to muster some semblance of my earlier fire, but my vision was too blurry, my thoughts too sluggish. "Don't… flatter yourself," I managed, my words slurring as I pushed weakly against his chest, my hands clumsy and ineffective.
He laughed, a low, genuine sound that vibrated through me. "Maybe I should start charging for this kind of service. Don't you think so?" he teased, flashing that infuriating grin again as he adjusted his hold on me, ensuring I didn't slip further.
I wanted to snap back, to tell him to get lost, but the words wouldn't come. The wine had won, pulling me under its heavy, numbing tide, and all I could do was lean into his hold, my head spinning as the bar's lights blurred into a golden haze. For the first time that night, I wasn't sure if I was angry.or embarrassed. All I knew was that Ethan, with his smug grin and infuriating confidence, had somehow become the only thing keeping me from falling, literally, and maybe even figuratively and I hated him for it.