I walk out the door and through the crowd with my head down, but it’s hard to hide with these high heels on. I make it down the stairs and nearly to the main entrance of the bar before I hear my name being called from behind.
“Karly!” He shouts, “Karly, wait!”
I stopped reluctantly, staring at him and watching every single head in the place turn in our direction.
“Please don’t go,” he whispers. “Just talk to me.”
My throat squeezes like I’m about to cry, but I choke that feeling down.
“Ashton, I can’t. I need to go, actually. I have some important things to do tomorrow.”
He sighs, stepping closer, “I know. I promise I’ll be quick. Please, Kar.”
Brea steps closer to me, whispering in my ear, “Let’s take this outside.”
I nod, without another word to Ashton, and walk past the bouncer into the night air.
“You can’t ignore me forever, Karly. We have unfinished business.”
Brea raises her brow, and I roll my eyes, “Fine. Five minutes.”
He follows us up to our adjoining rooms, and Brea leaves us alone. I kick my shoes off next to the bed, rolling my ankles. Dang, that feels better.
His beanie hides his hair, and his eyes are dark and sunken. I have to make myself look at him, and our gazes lock. It’s hard to even look at him and not feel pain.
“I know what you are going to say, Ashton. It doesn’t matter this time.”
He takes my phone out of my hand and tosses it onto the bed. I begin to ask what he’s doing, but he grabs both sides of my face and pulls his lips down to mine.
The familiar feeling doesn’t make me happy or content. I take my hand and forcefully push him away by his chest.
“We made a mistake, baby. Don’t you miss me?”
My first instinct is to say whatever he wants to hear to make him happy. It’s what I’m used to doing, I’ve done it for years, but I surprise myself.
“No.”
He takes his knuckle and brushes it down my jawbone, causing the hair to stand up on my arms.
“I’m an asshole. It’s a habit, you know that. You know that no one can make you feel like I do. When we’re good, it’s good.”
I instantly think of Eric. How attentive and genuine he is. How I never not one time felt like this, with this huge lump in my throat.
“Listen to yourself,” I swat his hand away from me. “When we’re good? We were never good.”
Again, he invades my personal space. He grabs my hip, slipping his hand up my shirt. His lips curl into a sadistic smile, and my breath hitches.
“I’ve seen the tabloids,” I blurt, “What do you really want? I don’t buy for one second this is about love. If it was, you wouldn’t be fucking every blonde on the front row at your shows.”
“It’s about loyalty,” he says, his grip on the skin under my shirt tightening as I try to wiggle away. His other hand comes up to grab my shoulder, and he painfully squeezes, pushing me against the wall.
Honestly, he has always been rough like that. In the beginning, it was fun, and I liked it. The more time that passed, I realized he was abusive. He slips his hand around my throat, using his thumb to caress my neck.
I remain silent and a little afraid as he takes his lips against my neck.
“Stop.” I cry, pushing him off me. “You should go.”
He steps back, pulls his beanie off of his head, and begins pacing the floor. He almost looks… I don’t know… strung out. He’s dabbled in a few things before, but something seems off about his behavior, even more so than usual.