Lost to You (Take This Regret 0.5)(19)
Author: A.L. Jackson

He was still laughing when he walked away.

I made the conscious decision to ignore him and the implications of his words. I moved into the main room and leaned against the wall so I could watch for Elizabeth. As always, the room was dimmed, Sam’s apartment primed for the perfect party. Loud music pounded in my ears, the feel chaotic as bodies moved. Fuzziness eddied around my vision, and with both palms, I scrubbed my face to clear it, wishing I’d thought better than to have drunk so much with Elizabeth being here tonight.

Disquiet gripped me tight. I couldn’t help it. She was here with me. My responsibility. It was more than that, though. The thought of anyone looking at her, let alone touching her, sent a swirl of nausea thrashing through my already raw stomach. But how could I claim her when I didn’t even trust myself with her? I mean, I cared about her. A lot. The problem was, I knew myself too well, the fleeting interest that passed just as quickly as it came. I refused to lose my best friend to my own stupidity and selfishness.

But God, this was getting unbearable.

A hand wrapped around my wrist before a hot body flattened against my side. “There you are.” Locks of dark brown hair obstructed my view, pushed into my space. Every weekend, it was the same.

I shook my head, irritated. “What do you want, Rachel?”

She pouted before she stretched up on her toes to whisper in my ear. “You.”

Jerking my head back, I glared at her, unable to fathom how one girl could be so clueless. “Haven’t I turned you down enough?”

She ran a single fingertip down the length of my face.

I recoiled.

“One of these days, you’ll be begging me.”

That wasn’t going to happen. She had to be the most disgusting slut I knew. A few months ago, I might not have minded. Maybe. Even then, I had some discretion. But now… Not a chance. Just the thought of her touching me had my skin crawling.

“The only thing I’m begging you for is to leave me alone.”

“Whatever…your loss.”

Rachel walked away, still looking at me over her shoulder, like somehow the exaggerated sway of her hips would send me chasing after her. She blended in with the mob, lost in the jumble.

With her out of the way, my attention jumped from one person to the next, searching for the only face I wanted to see. A tremor of agitation rolled through my muscles. I flexed my fists and shook it off.

Shouldn’t she be out by now?

I couldn’t tell how much time had passed, and again, I wished I’d been wiser and not drunk so much. Really, I wished I wouldn’t have brought her with me at all.

Elizabeth didn’t belong here.

She was too good…too pure.

Unable to wait any longer, I weaved through the room, ignoring everyone who tried to talk to me as I headed down the hallway. The bathroom door was closed. I jingled the knob. When I found it locked, I pounded on the bathroom door. “Elizabeth? Are you in there?” I shouted against the wood, listening for movement inside.

A female voice yelled back, “Not Elizabeth. It’s Kim.”

“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath. Pulling back, I looked to the opposite end of the hall to the single bedroom I knew would be locked. That was the one place in Sam’s apartment that was off limits. She had to have slipped by me, probably had some guy salivating all over her when she got back and didn’t find me there.

I found Sam standing at the end of the hall, talking with Max. I tapped him on the shoulder, asked, “Hey, have you seen Elizabeth?” when he spun around to look at me. The frantic way the question fell from my mouth did nothing to counter the earlier assertion he’d made.

He drew his brow together and shrugged. “Nah, man, I haven’t seen her since before I talked to you.”

My frenzied gaze probed the room again, my hands shaking as I dragged them both through my hair.

Max laughed beside me. “You shouldn’t have let that one out of your sight.”

I speared him to the floor with my eyes. He visibly shrank back without moving an inch, his tone shifting. “She was looking for you about five minutes ago.”

Shoving through the bodies, I searched, something akin to fear pulsing through my veins. I didn’t understand it—the tightness in my chest, this gripping worry tangling with the desire Elizabeth had left me with when she walked away. The room felt too confined, and I forced my way through the crowd, every second spurring something higher in me.

Faces glared at me in irritation. I had to find her, but Elizabeth was nowhere in the living room. The kitchen was jammed with people, all except the one I was so desperate to find.

Frustration bubbled up. I wanted to scream.

Fuck.

I dug into my pocket to find my phone to call her. The little red light flashed.

I opened it to a message from Elizabeth.

Sorry. Tired. Will CU later.

The worry I felt transformed and lifted, a throb of anger forming a lump in my throat.

What the hell?

She just left. Without saying a word.

Why would she do this to me? Did she have any idea how f**king worried I was about her?

I dialed, but it went straight to voicemail, her phone deadened. That only managed to piss me off more.

Pushing through the crowd and out the door, I stumbled into the empty hallway. I glanced at the illuminated lights on the elevator. The car was higher in the building. Unwilling to wait, I took stairs, propelled by anger and confusion, all wrapped up in a cloak of anxiety that something might happen to Elizabeth as she walked home by herself.

What was she thinking?

In all the months Elizabeth and I had hung out, she’d never once pulled anything like this. Reliable. Thoughtful. That was Elizabeth. But what? She was f**king tired so she walked home by herself in the middle of the night? Without telling me first?

Cold air jolted my senses as I stepped outside. Crowds still coursed the sidewalk. Couples roamed, and groups headed to wherever they were going that night.

But there was no sign of Elizabeth.

I ran, wound around them and toward Elizabeth’s place. I was panting by the time I stood outside her building. Pausing for a split second, I glanced up to the second floor and saw her light blazing through her window.

She was here.

Flinging open the building door, I barreled up the stairs. Anger ebbed out the worry, and I pounded on her door. I shuffled my feet impatiently, knocked again when she didn’t answer after a couple of seconds.

Finally, movement stirred on the other side of the door, and I could feel her peering out at me from the peephole. Metal slid as she released the lock, and Elizabeth cracked open the door. Confusion and sadness saturated the visible half of her face.