Page 66 of Living with Fire
The food was phenomenal. Even now, being as full as I am, I’m a little sad it’s all gone. Though, if they brought out more churros, I don’t think I’d be able to resist. They were melt in your mouth to die for.
“Best place in Santa Rosé for Mexican. Don’t bother with anything else because it’ll never be as good,” Nate says, nodding over his glass of water.
I believe it. This has been the perfect end to a perfect day.
Not that it’s over yet, but I can’t imagine he has anything else planned for us besides going home and crawling into bed. If it’s anything like last night, sleep will be elusive. Even if we could both use it.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” I tell him, sliding out of the booth. He gives me a nod, and as I’m walking away, I can feel his eyes on my ass, which makes me giggle. If the restaurant wasn’t so crowded, I might have given it a little shake.
I feel giddy. I don’t know the last time I felt this way. Maybe never. I know for certain I didn’t feel like this with Preston, and I definitely didn’t feel this airy and happy with Vincent, even when we first started dating. I’m floating on air. Finally I understand what people mean when they say someone is on cloud nine.
Nate makes me feel free. I think that’s the best way to describe it. He doesn’t want to tie me down and keep me there, he wants me to fly on my own, and be there to support me. I know it’s only been one date, and only a week that I’ve known him, but something deep inside of me tells me this is who Nate is.
I’m washing my hands when a woman with fiery red hair twisted up in a bun comes in to use the facilities, but stops just behind me, catching my eye in the mirror. “Aren’t you that girl?”
“I’m sorry?” I reply, my eyebrows lifting high in surprise as unease pools in my stomach.
“The woman from the fire. The one that was in her underwear.”
“Oh.” The knot in my belly loosens its grip, but doesn’t vanish completely for reasons I can’t explain. Embarrassment for losing my cool in my underwear that night? Or maybe I’m just feeling sympathy towards this woman if she was also affected by the fire. “Do you live there too? Was your place okay?”
“No, no,” she says, waving a hand with a small laugh that quickly disappears when she realizes how apathetic she sounds. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound rude. If what you said to that guy is true, you went through some horrible shit. I’m glad you lived.”
I flick my wet hands in the sink, blinking at her in confusion. Turning to grab some paper towel from the dispenser, I look over to find her watching me curiously. “Thanks. I’m glad too. Were you there?”
Her head jerks back in surprise. It’s her turn to look confused. “God no. I didn’t need to be.”
The same foreboding feeling I used to get when something was going to happen between Vincent and me is rearing its ugly head. I can never tell if it turns my blood to ice, or if it feels so hot that the rest of me feels cold, but I know it’s the worst feeling I’ve ever felt.
The instinct to run grows stronger by the second, and my pulse quickens as my heart gallops in my chest. “If I sound obtuse I apologize, but what exactly do you mean? How could you know what I said if you weren’t there?”
The woman looks dumbfounded as she stares at me. “Girl, you’re viral. Do you live under a rock? How do you not know this?”
“Vi-viral?”
I’m going to need to sit down. Dizziness makes my head swim, the room moving in circles. This woman must be mistaken. I cannot be viral. What happened at the fire scene cannot be viral. Grabbing onto the counter, I lean against it, trying to force the room to stop spinning.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“How viral?
“I’m not sure,” she says, now sounding a little worried. I wonder if she’s second guessing talking to me. “I saw it on the news first, but then it came across all my feeds, and I’ve seen it a few times, so…”
“Does that seem like a lot?” I cringe at the sound of my own voice. It sounds winded, hoarse. Unfamiliar to me.
I’ve completely ditched social media since leaving Colorado. My profiles still exist, but they’ve all been blocked on my phone. I’ve made sure to avoid it since I left. I didn’t want Vincent to have any way of tracking me. It might have been a little extreme, but I thought it was better to play it safe than be sorry.
“Well, I mean, yeah? But maybe it’s because it happened in Santa Rosé that it kept showing up for me. It might not be that viral,” she says, trying to placate me.
Nodding my head, I push off the counter. I need to get out of here. The walls are closing in and it’s getting harder to breathe. There’s a crushing pressure in my chest, like someone is sitting on it, refusing to allow oxygen into my lungs. I need the feeling gone, but I don’t know how to get rid of it. All I can think of is to get outside. Maybe fresh air will help.
There’s a small tunnel of light from the bathroom to the door of the restaurant. It’s a beacon of hope and I race for it, seeing nothing but the door. Pushing it open, I step into the warm evening, gasping for air as the sound of pumping blood thunders in my ears.
The outside air doesn’t help. In fact, I think it feels more suffocating than the air in the bathroom. It’s stifling and hot. So hot it may choke me. My throat closes with each breath I take.
When something grabs my wrist, I scream bloody murder. Spinning around, I go to hit whatever it is, but the world sways, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to hit the ground. Something stops me before I can.
It’s the weirdest sensation. A second ago, there was nothing, but now I hear cars on the road, and Nate’s voice trying to get me to respond to him. The tunnel of light has opened to Nate’s handsome face hovering over me, concern etched into every hard line in his skin and rooted deep into his brilliant blue eyes.