NATHANIEL HOLMES' POV
The glass of whiskey in my hand had been untouched for a while.
I noticed it only when Anthony pointed it out.
"You know," he said, walking into my living room without knocking, as if he owned the place, "people usually drink what they pour."
I glanced down at the whiskey, then back at him. "I will."
"I have been standing there for 5 minutes and the drink has been untouched." He spoke, gesturing his gaze to the entrance.
Anthony Barnes dropped onto the couch, kicked his shoes off, and leaned back like the apartment was as much his as mine. In some ways, it was. He'd been here often enough—through minor business discussions, bad decisions, and women.
We met years ago, back in high school. I used to be reserved and quiet then, Anthony was the one who brought me out of my shell. Back then, I hated everyone and everything including myself. I hadn't spoken to my Dad -James since my mom passed 2 years earlier. I got close to Anthony and James joined in our friendship later on.
Being of the same social status, it was very easy for the three of us to get along.
I gulped the whiskey down and placed the glass on the table beside where I sat.
"You look tense," he added. "That's my professional diagnosis."
"You're not a doctor."
"No," he agreed. "But I am a man who knows you don't stare at nothing unless something's eating at you."
I didn't respond.
He grinned. "It's a Friday night. You've been working too much. We're going out."
I smirked at him then poured another glass of whiskey. "I don't work." I stared at him as if I finally remembered something. "What do you mean by ' we? I'm tired man."
"Yes, we. Shower. Change and get set."
Against my better judgment, I agreed.
–––––—–––—
The club was loud and crowded.
Faces blurred together under the lights while music burst through every floor. Anthony thrived in places like this. I did too. He was already greeting people I vaguely recognized. Distant friends. Men who were frequent here.
I stood near the bar, watching.
Someone clapped me on the shoulder. "Holmes."
I nodded in return, even though I barely remembered the face. My family's name spoke loudly here.
Anthony came to me and we walked the stairs to the VIP area. There were more familiar faces over there.
A woman slid up beside me not long after. Familiar perfume. Familiar smile.
"Didn't expect to see you out," she said.
I did. Anthony had called her on our way.
"Didn't expect to be," I replied, with a warm smile.
She laughed softly.
She's Trisha, one of my flings. Honestly, I rarely care about their names. What mattered was what they represented—something easy, uncomplicated, and forgetful. Someone who never asked more than I was willing to give.
She leaned closer. "You've been distant."
"I've been busy."
"That's not what I meant." She cut in.
I knew.
She was talking about Angela
Angela wasn't just a lover of mine. She was long history. Years of it. We began dating when we were both in high school, shortly after I met Anthony. She was my first girlfriend or love–better put. Maybe my only love. She was the first woman I had sex with. We were the envy of everyone then. But, something changed in college. We couldn't be faithful to one another. We became too distant and broke up. We got back together and broke up some months after. This became frequent. Too frequent, but we didn't mind. We always found our way back to each other. Till last year, when she requested we get married and I declined. It wasn't that I didn't love her. I did, but I can't get married. I don't want to. I wasn't committed, I didn't know how. I couldn't be a good husband to anybody. I believe myself to be just like my father. Unfaithful even till my Mom's last breath. He had the guts to cheat on her while she was on her deathbed. Something I haven't forgiven him for till this day.
"You thinking about her again?" the woman asked gently.
I blinked twice, as if I was suddenly woken from something.
That was answer enough.
The noise suddenly felt too loud. The lights too sharp.
Amidst all this, my mind went to another person.
Jennifer.
The way she hesitates before speaking. The way she looks at me like, her eyes absent of trust. The more she pushes me back, it feels like something keeps pulling me to her.
That unsettled me more than I liked.
Suddenly, I felt a hand go around my nape till my lips landed on another's. One hand went around my neck while the other folded at my back. She separated my lips with hers and inserted her tongue into my mouth. It felt soothing, relaxing. My hands began going down her back slowly till they landed on her ass. I squeezed it and she let out a soft moan. She was enjoying it, more than I was.
She released her lips from mine, breathing hurriedly, and spoke softly. "Let's get out of here." She didn't wait for a response as she directed the kisses to my neck then returned to my lips.
This wasn't feeling as good as it used to. My mind was elsewhere.
I stepped back. "I need air."
She nodded, understanding more than I wanted her to.
Outside, the night was cooler. Quieter. I pulled my phone from my pocket and stared at the screen without unlocking it.
Anthony appeared beside me moments later. "You're leaving."
It wasn't a question.
"I am."
He frowned. "It's barely midnight."
"I know."
"You never leave early."
I shrugged. "Tonight's different."
He studied me for a second, then smirked. "You met someone."
"No," I said quickly.
He raised a brow.
"…Maybe," I added.
He laughed. "I knew it."
I didn't correct him.
The drive home was silent, but my mind wasn't.
For the first time in a long time, distraction didn't come easily.
And that bothered me more than I was ready to admit.