Chapter 1
Bitter Beer and Bitter Memories
The hall reeked of bleach and old beer. Ella moved fast, diploma still clutched in her hand, the edge digging into her palm. She didn’t care. The high of graduation buzzed in her chest, too loud to think. All she wanted was to see Gerald’s face. Share this with him. Hear him say he was proud.
The room ahead was cracked open. Laughter had echoed earlier. Someone said he was in there.
She pushed the door open.
And the floor dropped out from under her.
Her breath snagged. The air was too thick. Heavy with sweat, perfume, and something rotten. Gerald was there. So was Monica. Bodies tangled in the dark, sheets half-off, his mouth on her neck. Monica’s laugh—a soft, breathy thing Ella had heard a thousand times—cut through the silence like a knife.
Grunting. Skin slapping. Moaning.
Ella froze. Just inside the door. The light was dim, but it was enough. She saw Gerald’s hand on Monica’s thigh. Saw Monica arch into him like she belonged there.
Her stomach twisted. Her throat went tight. A dry sob cracked out before she could stop it.
“Cheaters!” she screamed.
They flinched. Panic scrambled across their faces. Gerald stumbled back, naked shame written all over him. “Ella!”
“Babe—wait, wait—!”
She was already across the room.
Ella didn’t think—her hand flew before she even registered the sting in her palm. Monica’s head whipped to the side, cheek red. Ella’s boot caught Gerald dead in the crotch. He folded like a broken chair.
“My disgust for both of you is beyond words!”
She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t need one. The damage was done. The image was burned into her skull. She turned and bolted, heart pounding so hard it hurt. Tears smeared her face, blurred everything. Her feet hit the floor hard—down the hallway, past the vending machines, out into the cold.
The night air bit at her skin, but it couldn’t numb her.
She didn’t stop running until she hit the parking lot. Her hands shook as she dug for her keys. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Just wanted to be gone.
“Ella—wait!” Gerald’s voice cracked behind her. She didn’t turn.
He caught up. Reached for her arm.
“Ella, please, just hear me out.”
She spun to face him. Her eyes were glazed over, her face pale. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
“I screwed up.” His voice broke. “I can’t even explain how sorry I am. It was a mistake. The worst one.”
Her mouth tightened. “A mistake?” she repeated, voice flat. “You fucked my best friend.”
“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “I know what I did. I hate myself for it. I’ll do anything to fix this. Please—”
“Fix this?” Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “You can’t fix betrayal, Gerald. You crushed everything. Us. Me.”
He reached for her again. She stepped back like he was poison.
“Don’t touch me. You don’t get to anymore.”
Silence. Just their breath in the cold. His shoulders dropped. He looked wrecked. She didn’t care.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive either of you,” she said, voice low and raw. “But I hope you both rot for this.”
He opened his mouth, but she was already moving.
She shoved him off the door, yanked it open, and got in. The engine roared. One last look—he stood there, eyes wild, mouth open, chest heaving like he was drowning.
She didn’t wait to see him beg.
Ella drove off.
"Gerald, you’re an idiot who doesn’t realize it. You abandoned me for that sex after eight fucking years. Why?”
Ella didn’t wait for an answer. She didn’t need one. She was already halfway drunk on rage and red wine by the time the words left her mouth. The pub was too loud, too bright—so she ducked into the back room, the one that always smelled like sour grapes and loneliness. It was quieter there. Not silent. Just muffled enough to pretend no one else existed.
She dropped into the corner booth like her bones didn’t belong to her anymore. Her glass trembled in her hand, the red swirling like blood in a toilet bowl. The wine burned, but not enough.
“Monica, you are such a disgusting bitch,” she spat under her breath, but it came out too loud. Her voice cracked, raw from yelling earlier, raw from crying harder. Her mascara was fucked, and she didn’t care. Let them stare.
Tears didn’t ask for permission now. They just came—ugly, heavy. The kind that tasted like salt and regret. She hated crying. Hated that her body still missed him. Hated that she couldn’t scrub him out of her mind, no matter how many nights she bled for it.
The walls didn’t echo. They swallowed. Every broken sound she made disappeared into the wood and cheap velvet, like the room was used to this kind of grief.
She thought she was alone. Thought she’d earned a few minutes of private breakdown.
She was wrong.
There was someone else. He sat in the far corner, half-drowned in shadow, glass in hand, face unreadable. He hadn’t made a sound. Hadn’t moved. Just existed there, like something broken, trying not to breathe too loud.
Ella didn’t notice him until he spoke.
“Hey,” he said, voice sharp but tired. “Could you quiet down?”
That was it. No apology. No kindness. Just that. Cold and clean like a blade.
She froze.
The air in the room was thick—cheap wood polish, stale wine, something like dust and disappointment. Dim lighting buzzed in the corner, barely enough to carve out shapes. Shadows ran long. Ella had tucked herself into the back booth like a wound trying to close itself.
His voice cut through it. Didn’t belong here. Didn’t belong anywhere near her. It was the kind of voice that made you pause, that made the walls lean in. Deep, cool, frayed at the edge.
The room shrank.
She turned fast, startled, her face still wet. She hadn’t seen anyone when she stumbled in. Just her, her tears, and the bitter aftertaste of another betrayal. Now, a voice like that? Like the past clearing its throat?
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, blinking hard. “Didn’t know anyone else was in here. I paid for privacy. Guess the crew scammed me.” She tried to laugh, but it cracked. Tears slid down anyway.
“It’s okay,” the man said. Calmer. Lower now. “Everyone needs a minute. I just wanted to be quiet too.”
She nodded. Swiped her cheek. Didn’t feel as stupid anymore. Grief made strangers look familiar.
“Why wine?” he asked.
She blinked. “What?”
“You’re drinking wine.”
Confused, she looked down at the glass. “How’d you know that?”
“I can smell it.” He chuckled, not unkind. “Won’t help, though. Try this.” A cold bottle rose from the dark. “Beer’s bolder.”
She eyed the drink. “Is that free?”
He smirked. “Yeah. I’m feeling generous.”
His fingers brushed her arm as he handed it over. She felt that. Way too much. Took it anyway. He drank first—a deep gulp, then a low laugh that sank into her skin.
“That one’s clean,” he said. “Best cold.”
She sipped. Immediate regret. Bitter hit her throat like metal. She coughed, hard. Embarrassed. He said nothing, just waited while she got used to it. After a minute, it didn’t taste as awful. Still wasn’t good, but maybe that was the point.
Silence hung for a while. Then his voice again—casual, but cutting.
“You catch them? Red-handed? I heard a slap. Did you go for the girl or the guy first?”
Ella coughed a laugh. “The girl. Hit her square in the face.”
He whistled. “Nice.”
“And him?” he asked.
“Kneed him. Right in the balls.”
He let out a laugh. “Even better.”
Her smile faded. “Doesn’t undo it. Doesn’t stop the memory.”
He nodded like he understood. And maybe he did. The quiet got thick again.
“You almost choked on those words,” he said after a pause. “Your voice went sharp when you said it. Like it still hurts.”
She met his eyes—or tried to. The shadows ate half his face. “Ex-best friend. Ex-boyfriend. Get the tense right.”
He laughed. “Are you a teacher?”
“I just graduated. Fashion Design. I’m not teaching shit.”
“Congratulations.” His tone dipped into something playful. “How about a free hug and kiss to celebrate?”
“No thanks.” Her reply was fast. Flat. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” he leaned back, half vanishing into the dark again. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Realizing you weren’t enough.”
She didn’t answer at first. Just looked down at her bottle.
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s like you were there, but not. Like they were already gone, and you were just slow to notice.”
He didn’t say anything. Just drank. The sound of it filled the room.
Still, Ella found herself watching him. Watching the shape of him.
“You keep looking at me,” he said, amused.
“I’m not,” she lied.
“You are.” A chuckle. “Can’t help wondering what I look like?”
She didn’t answer.
“I see your eyes,” he said. “Even in the dark. They’re on me.”
She shifted, but didn’t turn away.
He took another slow sip. Let her hear it.
“You probably think I’m handsome.”
She rolled her eyes. “I think women fall for your voice. And you know how to talk.”
“Unfair judgment, Miss.”
That made her smile. Just barely.
He grinned. “Cute.”
“What is?”
“That little laugh. The way you try not to smile. Makes me want to see more of it.”
That hit. Warm and cold at the same time. She hated how it made her feel.
She didn’t say anything, just sipped the beer again.
The next thing she knew, he was closer. Just enough. His hand brushed hers, smooth and fast, taking the bottle like he’d done it a thousand times. Then a new one appeared in its place. Chilled. Condensation dripping.
“Thought you might want a fresh one,” he said.
The glass hit her lips again. Cold. Bitter. Ella swallowed like it mattered. Like it could bury the heat clawing at her throat. She set the bottle down harder than needed, then held it out. He took it, handed her another. No small talk.
“You’ve never fucked your boyfriend? After eight years?” His voice cut through the bar noise. Smooth, amused. “What’d you two do? Just… stare at each other?” He laughed. Short. Sharp. “No offense, but he probably thought you were boring. Stale. Relationships need something more. A little spark. A little bite.”
She didn’t blink. “Wait.”
Her voice was quiet. But tight.
“I keep thinking… maybe he cheated because I was dull. Because I wasn’t enough.” She didn’t look at him when she said it. “Is that a good enough reason to fuck someone else?”
He paused. Swirled the liquid in his glass like he was stirring his thoughts.
“Cheating’s never simple,” he said finally. “But it’s not about you. People cheat because they’re weak, selfish, or just too fucking cowardly to say what they want.”
She leaned back. Not satisfied.
“But if I bored him—if I was numb the whole time… doesn’t that mean I pushed him there?”
He took a long drink. Let the silence stretch.
“Then he should’ve said something,” he said, voice low. “If you’re bored, you talk. You try. You don’t sneak around and break what can’t be fixed after.”
Ella’s fingers curled around her bottle. Her knuckles turned white. She nodded once. Just once.
“I wish he said something,” she muttered. “Instead, he fucked someone else and left me wondering what I did wrong.”
He looked at her differently now. Not smug. Not amused. Just watching. Like he saw something unraveling beneath her skin.
“It’s not on you,” he said. “It takes two. But cheating—that’s one person’s choice. And it says more about them than you.”
She didn’t answer. Just lifted the drink again. The bubbles hit her tongue, cold and cruel.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She looked at him. Her stare was sharp now. Alive.
“I was thinking…”
He waited.
“…Let’s do it.”
He blinked. “Do what?”
“Have sex with me.”
The words dropped like a match.
His brow lifted. “You serious? You’ve been drinking.”
She shook her head, steady. “No. You made me think. You made me see what I’ve been missing. I’ve spent years afraid of the wrong things. I want to learn what it means to take. To feel. To not just be there while someone else leaves.”
He leaned back. Drank. Confused. Intrigued.
“You want to do this just because you’re single now?”
“I want to do this,” she said, “because I’m done being careful.”
He let out a slow breath. “You don’t even know me.”
“Exactly. That’s what makes it better.” Her eyes flicked up, locked on his. “No lies. No promises. Just this.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
She leaned in. Close enough to smell the spice on his collar. “Unless you’re scared.”
A beat passed.
“I’m not scared,” he said, eyes narrowing. “But you—what do you think happens next? You ever even done this?”
She didn’t flinch. “I know enough.”
He laughed under his breath. It wasn’t cruel. Just dark. Like something cracking open.
“I don’t do virgins,” he said, voice dipped low. “But I can show you how good it gets. I can fuck you without breaking what’s still untouched.”
Her lips parted. The air shifted.
“How?” she breathed.
He leaned in. His lips grazed her ear. His voice dropped.
“Make out.”
