Wine after Whiskey
The post-breakup emotions had washed you clean, there were no more what ifs circling your mind, no more tears flowing, no more breakdowns or questions on what went wrong.
It was all over – so you thought.
It was in the moment that you recognised the familiar head of waves in the same restaurant that you were immersed with all the feelings you thought you left on the bedroom floor, along with with the whisky.
You feel your body go numb, for a moment you can’t even pry your eyes from his figure, his figure bundled in a black coat with a scarf dangling loosely around his neck– The scarf that you brought as a joke because he can never manage to wear scarfs in the correct manner.
You pull yourself away from the trans that he pulled you into, your eyes waving towards your friend in front of you, her wine scraping her lips as she side-eyes Harry.
“Thought he was in London.” She murmurs as she makes her gaze further obvious,
“Stop staring. He was in London.” ..“I guess he came back to New York for something.” You shrug, driving the sparkling wine down your throat to satisfy the stinging nerves arising in you as the presence of Harry grows more intense.
She rolls her eyes, placing her wine glass down on the table, her bluish-green eyes narrowing down on you, “More like he came back for you.” You shake your head and scoff,.
There is no way he flew from London to come to New York right before a snow storm is meant to hit, not to mention he is the one who broke off the relationship.
If anything, he is presumably praying that the two of you don’t cross paths.