It was an implicit threat, but it hung between them like a guillotine. My gut twisted into a painful knot as bile seemed to rise up his throat, and he felt the sudden urge to vomit. I needed to get the hell out of here and put as much space between himself and Arlys as he could before this spiraled any further out of control.
“This is not going to work, Arlys,” I said as firmly as he could, and even that quavered under the strain. “Whatever it is you’re trying to do, it’s not going to work. I won’t let you use this against me.”
My lips had reminded her of a snarl, hissing back at her as she pressed her body even closer, warm puffs of air brushing against his skin. “Oh Brandon,” she purred, fingertips running down the center of his chest, “I’m not trying to use anything against you. I just want to remind you of what’s real here. You had your little fun with me last night, and now there are consequences. You can’t just pretend like it never happened.”.
Brandon licked his lips nervously, every instinct inside his body screaming at him to get out. He couldn’t find his mind, and he was incapable of catching his breath-not with her that close and the implications of her words hanging over him like a dark cloud.
I stepped back, then further back, with an “I have to go” repetition until the lines between them were finally cut. “This has been a mistake, and I’m going to see it never happens again.”
Her expression remained inscrutable, though bored, as the frown termed belligerent, and she stood up from her chair to cross her arms across her chest. “Do what you have to, Brandon,” she said now with a quite cold voice. “Just remember: you can’t run from the truth. It’s out there, and it will get you sooner or later.”
It was a warning, plain as day, which bristled in the air as I turned from her and nearly raced from the room. He could barely see straight as he slammed his way to the elevator-the hallway in and of itself felt suffocating. The steps seemed to feel heavier than usual, each one after the other. Thoughts crossed, almost interwoven as well, smashing against one another like waves in a storm. How could he have let this happen? Just how careless could he have been?
The elevator doors slid open, and he walked into the compartment with a hand resting on the button for the lobby, shaking. The descent seemed too slow. Each and every moment was stretching onto an unbelievable, illogical length of time. My eyes searched to hold onto the cool metal of the wall behind me, to take control of his breathing, and everything just became a waste of effort. For in his mind, only one thought took over: how would he confront Natalie now?
When the elevator doors finally deigned to open, I almost stumbled out of the thing as his heart hammered against his rib cage. I forced myself to walk calmly in stride through the lobby, even though every single atom of his body’s muscles screamed at him to run.
I came suddenly out onto the street; the ajar car, in turn, with the sudden slap to my face, spread the cold morning air over him like a gantlet, but I felt no head-clearing effect. I hailed a cab; his hands shaking while trying to get hold of Anthony. I needed to talk with someone, to try and figure out just what the hell he was supposed to be doing now.
“Hey,” he answered on the second ring, his voice groggy, “Brandon? What’s up, man? It’s barely morning.”
“I need to talk to you,” I said, his voice urgent. “Can you meet me at my hotel? Now.”
There was a moment of silence before Anthony’s voice cut through considerably more awake. “Yeah, sure, mate. What’s going on? You sound like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I persevered, “Just. please. I need to see you,” not trusting himself to say over the phone.
Anthony had responded with, “Alright, alright. Be on my way,” and then proceeded to hang up the line.
At that, I sighed and reclined into the seat, shutting my eyes as the cab sped through London’s streets. I hadn’t the remotest idea what he was going to say to Anthony, not the slightest conception of how I was going to fix this. All I knew was that he needed a way out of the nightmare I was in before everything I had tried to protect wound itself in gut-sick agony.
But I had tried even through all of that to tell myself the very worst hadn’t happened, that it was still salvageable, even as a cold knot of fear had coagulated in the pit of his stomach and whispered that it was already too late.