Page 1 of Captured Memories
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The date startedas bland and was speeding right along to abysmal.
Liv sucked on her straw, taking in an extra hefty helping of her black-and-white milkshake, as if the creamy goodness could block out the absolute drivel coming out of this guy’s mouth. He hadn’t seemed like this much of a twat online, but hey, dating profiles lie, lie, lied. The overhead lights of the Denny’s blared down on her, and the rattle and chill of air conditioning blasting through this place made her skin prickle.
“So you take photographs, right?” Kyle asked, his smarmy grin the kind she itched to punch off his face, and the Drakkar Noir he’d slathered on making her stomach churn. “What’s your real job?”
Liv swigged so much milkshake it went straight to her head, but even brain freeze melted in the fury his question inspired. So far, he checked off every item on her ‘Shit that Makes Liv Morozov Rage’ list. Acting like her career wasn’t a legitimate profession tended to top that, along with the territorial way he leaned forward, his hand inching across the laminate table as the minutes wore on.
“Professional Emasculator. I’ve been told that’s why I’ve got such a problem keeping a man,” she drawled, batting her eyelashes innocently while the venom poured from her mouth. This had been a bad idea from the start, spurred on by the promise she made to Tessa to give the dating pool a fair try, again. Common sense-wise, making connections she might be able to use for her quite-real job as a photographer didn’t hurt, and she figured she could slice through any assholes who came her way.
Looked like right off the bat they lined up for the slaughter.
Kyle laughed, because he thought she was joking, and then his eyes flicked to her tits for the umpteenth time this conversation. When it came to full-throttle d-bags like him, the barbs she delivered weren’t sarcastic.
She slurped up the dregs of her milkshake, savoring the last bits of chocolate syrup pooled at the bottom. If she didn’t have anything left in her glass, she had no more reason to stay. His cell phone began to ring, an off-tone that rang with a loud beep, beep, beep, beep through the nearly empty diner at the pre-early bird dinner hour.
She hadn’t heard the sound in a long time.
Nausea flooded her in one sickening sweep. The smell of bacon grease and cleaning fluid faded away, and the stench of Stoli Vanilla arrived in its place. Liv began rubbing her wrist, over and over. Bile rose in her throat while her heart kicked in double time.
The whole place blurred to the back of her focus, vision tunneling to the way her hand circled her wrist, again and again. Words stuck in her throat, and the air evacuated her chest as numbness descended.
“I need to leave.” Some other Liv, not her, spoke to her date in this quiet, detached voice. The robotic tone must have thrown him off, because his brows crinkled in confusion, and he opened his mouth to respond.
Before he could put up an argument, Liv dropped a couple of bills to cover her milkshake, and with a slow and steady stride, she exited Denny’s.
Each step forward felt like slogging through deep water, her boots hitting the floor even though she couldn’t feel the ground beneath her. Numbness reigned, as it traveled up her legs, down her arms, and strangled her heart. Even as she descended the concrete walkway towards her car, her hand kept circling her wrist, the motion beginning to chafe her skin. The air remained crisp from rain the day before, providing a slight edge from the humidity wrapping around her. Before she was even aware, she stood in front of her forest green Subaru.
Once she settled into the driver’s seat and the locks clicked, Liv took her first real breath. The air came out shaky and sharp. Liv leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel, the sole thing she could bear focusing on as the breaths cycled through her. Her nerves melted in a shuddering adrenaline crash, and her arms trembled.
Great. First foray into dating in a year and she royally fucked it up. Kyle would be reporting to his bros tomorrow with a big ol’ headline of ‘Crazy Chick Strikes Again’ after the abrupt way she jetted out. She shouldn’t give a damn, but she did. The lack of control got to her, every time. Kyle didn’t know the unstable firework he signed on for when he swiped right. Liv gritted her teeth, turning the ignition on. Behind the wheel, she sank into a measure of control, something she needed in a real way right now.
Her phone began ringing in a symphony of sound as different as possible from the old ringtone that played in the Denny’s. She glanced to see who called. Tessa. Her bestie must have sensed a disturbance in the force. Woman claimed to be psychic, but she was just Grade A at reading body language. Her friend wasn’t a menace in the briefing room for nothing—Tessa earned her rep on Louisville’s police force.
Liv picked up the phone. “Hey, chica. Meet me at my apartment. We’re pulling out the whisky tonight.”
Tessa’s sleekblack Charger sat in the back parking lot by the time Liv returned to her apartment. The drive down the freeway had given her time to collect herself and flip off a couple shitty drivers in the process. She’d managed to quell the shaking and the descending nausea from whenever her jerk body decided to relive events of the past she wished would stay dead and buried.
Tessa Riviera strolled up, her smooth caramel skin on full display due to the tank and running shorts she wore. Her glossy black hair had been pulled into a sporty ponytail. Liv unbuckled her seat belt and checked her appearance in the driver’s mirror—she didn’t think she’d started crying or anything weird, but she’d dealt with these involuntary responses before.
She and Tessa couldn’t be more opposite. The late afternoon sun amplified Liv’s innate paleness, what little skin wasn’t covered in ink, and her shoulder-length curls shone in a myriad of shifting teals and blues. Her dedicated hair sorceress had outdone herself with this array of colors that glittered like the ocean.
Her combat boots thudded to the asphalt, a helluva lot sturdier than her shaky legs at this point. Liv stood, rolled her shoulders back, and forced a grin as Tessa stopped in front of her.
“Knock that fake ass grin off your face and prepare to get wasted.” Tessa lifted a brown paper bag that sloshed while they walked in unison to Liv’s apartment.
She stepped to the foyer first, the faint smell of cat piss lingering from last week when Miss Lorcan’s tabby, Pickle, tried to make his grand escape. Liv stopped by the mail slot and fumbled with her key while Tessa waited by the steps. A red envelope stood out amidst a sea of white bills and Sav-A-Lot packs. Her brows furrowed on instinct as Tessa took the lead up the stairs.
Liv’s heart accelerated when she scanned over the letter—no return address, which always pinged her internal alarms.
As they clomped down the echoing hall of her second-floor apartment, she ripped open the letter. Today had already turned into a shit sundae, so why not pop a cherry on top? A thick, cream-colored card lay inside. As she flipped open the invite, Tessa leaned against the door to her apartment with her brow lifted and a hefty helping of side-eye thrown her way.
An admirer looks forward to meeting you.
Come as you are to Cupid’s Café on Bardstown Street tomorrow at noon for the second chance you always hoped for, yet didn’t believe possible.
Sincerely,