@The Edge Bar
Was she dreaming? She had to be. Lydia couldn’t believe her eyes. In fact, she blinked rapidly a few times before realizing that Jackson really was here at The Edge Bar, standing across the room by the front door. To make matters worse, his eyes had found hers and the moment they had locked gazes, a look of disgust had crossed his features before he turned around quickly, exiting the bar as fast as he had come in. Lydia had barely murmured his name before he was gone. “…J-Jackson?” Standing up out of her chair abruptly, nearly knocking it over onto the floor, Lydia threw a couple of dollar bills on the table before grabbing her purse and rushing out the front doors of the bar. Looking down at her hands, she realized that she was shaking. Not from the air of the cool night, but from anger and perhaps from nervousness as well.
It’s been three weeks since Jackson had broken up with Lydia, in a very public and humiliating way that had her reconsidering if their relationship ever meant shit to him. She remembered staying the night at Allison’s for the rest of the week, not wanting to be alone with her own thoughts. Allison had held Lydia’s head in her lap while she cried herself to sleep, hating how vulnerable she felt, or rather, how vulnerable Jackson made her feel. She knew that she had to face him again eventually, and she braced herself for a heart-wrenching run-in at school, but it never came. For some reason, either he was avoiding her or if their timing was just perfect, the two didn’t cross paths at school. Lydia hadn’t seen Jackson at all since their breakup, and that made it much easier for her to begin to move on.
Yet she still demanded answers. He had left everything so open-ended, but somehow managed to say every single thing possible to break her heart. She was never going to forgive him for what he did to her, and she was never going to forget what he had said to her. Lydia hated not knowing exactly why he ended things, because although he threw a few reasons out there, she felt like there was something else that he was hiding from her. Tonight was the first time she had seen Jackson since their breakup, and she felt like now was as good of time as any to pry a legitimate reason out of him.
Lydia’s heels clicked on the sidewalk as her feet hit the pavement, her sage green eyes scanning left and right for any sign of her ex-boyfriend. Hoisting her purse up higher onto her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of a leather jacket in the distance to her right that was unmistakably Jackson’s. She recognized it because she herself had bought it for him for his birthday the previous year, and also because he wore it quite often. Bounding down the sidewalk as fast as her heels could take her, Lydia managed to catch up to Jackson. She was out of breath at this point, but she still had enough in her to grip his arm and turn him around to face her. The moment they were face to face, Lydia almost regretted her decision in chasing after him, immediately feeling stupid. All of a sudden, she didn’t know what to say, and that same look of disgust was still on his face. Taking a small step back, Lydia tucked her arms across her chest, regaining her composure. Arching a brow as if to taunt him, Lydia let her eyes trail down from his eyes to his feet then back to his eyes, sizing him up. “Can we talk?” She had decided that she was going to go about this in the most mature manner possible, even if that wasn’t on his agenda.
He had parked no more than a few minutes before and yet Jackson couldn't remember where he had left his car. The fact he was willing to bet Lydia had followed him out was only putting his nerves more on edge, proving it a difficult task to retrace his steps. Instead he wandered the parking lot hoping he would stumble across his vehicle, not daring to look back, diving irritably back into the pockets of his jeans with his fingers and pulling free his keys. Raising them over his head, he pressed down on the button that sounded the horn and navigated towards the sound. The steady clicking of heels behind him grew louder even as he picked up his pace and it almost felt like a chase, though he was clearly on the wrong end of the pursuit. In his dreams, he was always the predator, hunting people down, but yet here he was avoiding his ex-girlfriend like she was the plague, running from a tiny girl with a designer handbag.
He felt Lydia's hand on his arm, managing to entrap him in her vice-like grip, and he spun around, burning her with his gaze. He glared at her expectantly, though he didn't really need to ask what she wanted. She wanted to talk, and there was nothing Jackson wanted to do less. He could feel her fingernails digging into his skin, something that used to drive him wild at times, but now they were an annoyance and unwelcome. "There's nothing to talk about," he retorted, tugging his arm free from her fingers. "I dumped you, Lydia, we're over. Whatever kind of closure you're looking for, you aren't going to find it here. I suggest you move on..." He stepped forward into her personal space, giving her a meaningful look, a small, annoyed smile on his face, "because I know I sure have." His scowl returned, and he shrugged his jacket higher onto his shoulders, stepping back again. "Go home," he told her. She shouldn't be hanging around bars by herself anyways.
