Page 26 of Save Me

“He’s just a clown,” I say as the cars beside us fly by. Those butterflies are back, but this time my stomach flips over as I feel the temperature in the car dip. Arthur is pissed.

“What the—“ Arthur makes a maneuver that throws me against the door. Bracing myself, I cuss myself out. I shouldn’t have mentioned Jared. Arthur hates Jared ever since I told him Jared made a pass at me before Arthur and I met. That was my bad. It meant nothing; I should have kept my mouth shut. Arthur has trauma with cheating; I was dumb to say anything.

“Does no one here know how to drive?”

I risk a glance over at Arthur. He gives me a tight look.

“Jared’s just a friend,” I say softly. “I’m into you.”

Arthur’s frowning face melts into something softer, and he lets go of the wheel with one hand, reaching over to grip my thigh. “Thanks, lovebug. What do we always say?”

“Till death do us part.” I place my hand over his. We have this running joke that we’re meant to be together, and the only thing that can separate us is death. It’s cute, and the saying makes my stomach calm. Arthur is home. He loves me enough to fight for me. I’ve always wanted to be loved like this.

We make it to the bar in record time. While I’d rather cook Arthur a meal at home–I really enjoy cooking–Arthur says he misses the atmosphere of the bar. And it is a nice place.

It’s busy when we get there, but that doesn’t prevent Arthur’s charismatic personality from making friends immediately and getting us a spot at the bar. He chats it up with two guys who are already there while I stand slightly behind him, not wanting to squeeze myself between him and the guy on the next stool. It’s loud and crowded and already hot, and fuck, I can’t wait for a celebratory drink.

“Here, babe.” Arthur throws me a wink, sliding a drink back for me. My favorite drink–a screwball. I smile.

He knows me so well.

“I always say, always try something at least twice, right, babe?” Arthur is trying to rope me into the conversation. I nod and laugh while draining my drink. I feel awkward. I’m not social like Arthur; he does it so effortlessly. I just need to get more bubbly like him.

It takes me three drinks before I feel comfortable enough to fully slide into the conversation Arthur has started, but I have to lean all the way across the bar to talk past Arthur to get to the other guys. At that point I don’t care, though. The world is feeling bright and happy again. This is our anniversary. We’re gonna go home and have hot, sizzling sex. Maybe, just maybe, Arthur will let me be the one to mess around with him. He’s hinted at how he wants to be topped, and I’ve always wanted to try. My dick swells with the thought of slipping into his nice ass⁠—

I’m distracted from my thoughts when I notice Arthur’s hand grab a guy’s shoulder and squeeze. He lets go quickly, but his hand drops down to the guy’s hip, where he feathers his fingers out to brush his waist.

I stare, something bubbly and hot rising up in my chest. What?

Then, Arthur’s hand is back on the bar.

Did I just see something? Was it just an innocent touch?

I flag the bartender for another drink, then suck that one down too, but it does nothing for the yucky feeling in my chest.

I’m being stupid. I ask Arthur to trust me, and then this? I can’t even trust him with a drunk, playful touch?

Arthur laughs particularly loudly at something the guy says, then leans in to whisper something in his ear, and then my skin gets so hot it’s like I’ve jumped in a vat of boiling water. I jump out of my seat, making a beeline for the bathroom. I move through the people, the music pounding into my head. As soon as I step into the bathroom, it’s immediately cooler and quieter. I suck in a breath.

I’m being crazy. This is me being crazy, right?

Fuck! I rip my hands into my hair. I never used to be like this, but this relationship is making me think I might be the red flag.

Then the bathroom door bangs open. I jump and see Arthur striding in. He spots me immediately.

“Did you hear me? I called after you.” He’s headed for me with an intensity in his gaze that, for a second, reminds me of Dad. I feel sick and turn to face the sink.

“Sorry, just needed a breath.”

“Did you drink too much?”

Suddenly, Arthur’s presence is right there, pressing into the pocket of air I’ve created, and it feels like I can’t breathe.

I take a step back toward the stalls, and Arthur follows. “What’s wrong?”

My heart rate ramps up. All I can see is his hand on the other guy’s waist, and why is he so goddamn close?

“I’m fine.” The only empty space is either in the stall or toward the door. Maybe the bar wasn’t so bad. Arthur was giving me more space then than he is now. I take a step toward the door, only to have Arthur block me.