#thea1

The temptation was intense, but thinking about Olivia held him just back from the edge of that particular chasm which was why he was a few feet from the door but hadn’t actually gone in yet. Trent was barely keeping his shit together but if he fell into this particular black hole again, it would be so much worse. Trent knew it would be more than just a crutch, that it was a full blown problem, but as much as he longed for the support and the freedom the alcohol gave him, he was equally if not more so afraid of how it would affect Olivia if he started drinking and didn’t stop. 

All that meant that Trent stood in front of a bar called Paxton’s in fucking Chicago and could neither make himself walk through the door or leave completely. So he leaned against the wall of the building, staring at the door as if he wanted to burn a hole in it, and wondering which shitty consequence he was going to fall into. Arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched, he was stunned when someone actually approached him instead of just walking by to head into the bar. “I’m waiting for someone.” He blurted, suddenly, not knowing what else to say and not about to explain his dilemma. Trent realised a moment later that she hadn’t actually said anything to him and he probably looked like an idiot. Great. 

This party was stressful. While Pippa went around kissing people on cheeks and smiling politely at balding old dudes, TJ had to sit through the whole ordeal with a smile, while trying to hide his inner anguish. Dear God, if this is Hell, then I swear I’ll be good. Rich people were the worst, and TJ didn’t need to talk to them to know that. The tinkering laughter, clinking of glasses and women stroking his bicep for a little too long was all the proof in the world that these people sucked and he had to get out of here. 

TJ had lost Pippa in the crowd, and he decided to get out of there. On the balcony, where it was the closest to escape and to keep an eye on the girl who had grown quite attached to, to be honest. He was nursing his Scotch, watching the night sky till he heard heels click behind him. Turning, only to face what could only be called, a blast from the past.