Page 66 of The Compass Series

AALIYAH

N othing said anxiety like entering a room filled with complete strangers.

If I were ever in those old Saw movies where I was put into a deadly situation that terrified me, it would’ve been me in a room surrounded by people I didn’t know.

What were they thinking when they looked at me?

What were their first impressions? Did they like me? Did I come off as weird?

Then I had the fun habit after said gathering, where I went home and overthought every conversation, wondering if someone took my words the wrong way or if I said something idiotic. I’d only been standing around for about an hour, and my palms were already sweaty from the pressure of it all.

Why did an hour feel like ten when you were in a place you didn’t want to be?

“Say cheese!” a photographer remarked before flashing a camera in my eyes and hurrying off to his next victim. I blinked a few times to try to recover my sight and thought of his words.

Cheese.

Ugh.

What I wouldn’t have given to have some deep-fried, bad-for-my-hips-good-for-my-soul cheese in my mouth right at that moment.

I daydreamed about cheese oozing out of a mozzarella stick as I placed a tiny slice of sweet potato into my mouth.

It was topped with some weird smelly cheese, pecans, and cranberries.

The waitress told me the green sprinkled on top was rosemary, but I was pretty sure it was grass.

Sweet potato crostini bites, she’d called them, but I knew I was actually just eating fancy trash.

I wasn’t a very fancy girl. Never had been, never would be.

I never really needed more than some good wings and french fries.

At least, that had been the case before my diagnosis.

Alcohol had been completely cut out of my life ever since I was placed on the heart transplant list the previous summer, and it’d been two years since I had anything deep-fried because of my condition.

I’d been forced to give my whole life a complete makeover.

“Would you like another?” the waitress asked, and I cringed, making her hurry away with an annoyed sigh.

I didn’t mean to make a face. I simply hadn’t ever been one to have a solid poker face. All my true emotions and feelings shined through my eyes and the curves of my lips. If I was mad, annoyed, or disgusted, everyone around me could tell.

I wondered if I’d gotten that trait from my mother. I wondered if her displeasure sat on the bridge of her nose as it wrinkled up. If she was happy, did her eyes shine in such a special way?

I shook the thought of her away before letting it settle in my heart. The last thing I wanted to do was make myself sad during an event meant to be a happy occasion. Therefore, heavy thoughts were strictly off-limits.

With a deep breath, I surveyed the room before me.

Over one hundred people had shown up to a dinner to celebrate my fiancé’s new position running Roe Real Estate West Coast. It was the first work event I’d been to with him, and I was terrified. I didn’t know a soul outside of Jason’s parents.

The dinner was extremely fancy. Or, more so, it was a gala. Everything was so over-the-top for truly no reason at all except Jason could afford it.

We could afford it.

Jason hated when I called it his money, but at the end of the day, it was his. He was the extremely successful businessman, and I was the junior editor his mother had met two years earlier, then introduced to her son.

A whirlwind romance set up by Marie.

True, we’d only been dating for a year and a half, but it felt longer.

“Cucumber bites?” a woman asked, shoving a tray in my face with literally just pieces of cucumber sprinkled with paprika.

My nose obviously wrinkled up. “No, I’m good.”

The problem with galas was the lack of food and the abundance of liquor. Everyone around me was drinking, except for me. But I was a big believer in using carbohydrates to soak up the alcohol sitting in my gut, and I was sure some of those individuals could’ve benefited from a bread bowl or two.

Cocktails and truffle fries.

Whiskey and pizza.

Beer and cheese fries.

Oh, my gosh…

Did I mention fries? What I wouldn’t have given for a big plate of french fries right then, but none of that was on the menu at The Lily that night. There was hardly any food to be found, just overpriced bite-sized appetizers.

Maybe that was how rich people stayed rich—they didn’t eat, so no need to spend money on food.

Two hands landed on my hips, and my body melted into the touch. I knew it was him before he even spoke. Jason always smelled like smoky rosewood dipped in sex appeal. I turned to face him, and my heart skipped a few beats when I found his frown, which in turn made me frown.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Your hermit crab vibes are strong tonight,” he whispered, leaning into me. “People are talking, saying you seem uppity.”

“Sorry. My brain’s shutting down. I can’t survive on air.” I placed my hands against his chest and gave him my best puppy dog eyes. “Can we just ditch and find some real food?”

Before he could reply, a woman with a tray of some kind of raw meat walked over to us. “Would you like one?” she asked.

“Sure, after you cook it,” I replied.

Jason laughed, but it wasn’t his amused laughter. It was his annoyed laugh. He said, “No, thank you,” to the person before turning back to me. “You’re so extreme, Aaliyah.”

He wasn’t wrong. At times, I could be dramatic. “Other than the lack of food, everything else is pretty great, yeah? The event turned out well. I’m so proud of you.”

Jason smiled. “Yeah, if only you’d actually talk to some people other than me.”

“I’ve talked to your parents all night long!”

“I think we both know that doesn’t count as putting yourself out there.

Aaliyah…you have to talk to people.” Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He was tired. How could he not be? Lately, Jason’s default mode was tired.

He’d been working nonstop for the past few months trying to get the real estate company running in Los Angeles.

He was beyond stressed, and I wasn’t certain I’d fully understand the answer if I asked him what all his job entailed.

All I knew was that he was always busy. Therefore, that meant early mornings and late nights.

Early-bird flights and redeyes. Intensely brewed coffee and painfully strong whiskey.

I worried about him sometimes. I worried about the burnout all great businessmen experienced. Still, he always told me he was fine, even on the days it was clear he wasn’t.

Fun, free-spirited Jason hardly came out to play lately, and I was somewhat kicking myself for not latching on tighter when I felt it slipping away.

When we had first started dating, he’d been so energized and full of life.

Yet after we moved in together, it felt as if I was living with a stranger.

He was short with me a lot, but then he would apologize, saying it was due to his workload.

“You know how I feel about socializing,” I explained, fiddling with my fingers.

He nodded. “Yes, only with your friends.”

“Exactly. Ross, Rachel, Phoebe…”

“Aaliyah.” Jason stated my name as if I were a misbehaving child, and I nodded, knowing from his slight undertone that he was feeling the pressure. “A lot of people who are important to me are here tonight, and I think it’s important for them to interact with the most important person in my life.”

“Okay, okay. I need ten minutes of fresh air. Then I’ll come back and be the perfect bride-to-be.”

“Sounds good.”

“Before I go, can you make me a promise?”

“Anything.”

“After we’re done here tonight, can we go get some real food? Maybe a place with a bread basket?”

He laughed his real laugh, and that made me happy. “Oh, Liyah.” His mouth grazed over mine before he moved his lips to my forehead, where he planted a kiss. His voice was low, full of a sweetness that didn’t exactly match the words he spoke. “You know you shouldn’t be eating carbohydrates.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, stunned by his comment.

“God, don’t do that,” he groaned.

“Don’t do what?”

“Get all emotional.”

“What are you talking about? You said that weird thing about me eating and?—”

“Not now, Aaliyah,” he whispered with sternness to his tone. “I’m not going to have one of our pointless arguments at my event. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Don’t ruin it with your emotions.”

“I’m just saying…that was a rude comment.”

“Rude or honest? I mentioned the other day that your ass looked fat in your dress.”

I frowned, feeling extremely self-conscious. I thought that was a compliment.

The smell of liquor fell from every exhalation he had.

I loved Jason, but I didn’t like the man he was when he drank.

Some nights, I wondered if I even knew him.

I wondered if the alcohol made him speak his truths or transition into someone who only spoke lies.

I stared at him as if he were a complete stranger.

I’d been noticing his belittling behavior more and more during the past few weeks.

We’d been together for over a year, yet we moved in with one another only six weeks ago, and since then, I’d crawled into bed with a stranger.

Our love story began with rainbows and butterflies.

I was obsessed with Jason Rollsfield, and he was obsessed with me.

That was, until I gave up my apartment and moved in with him.

After the move, it was as if my Prince Charming had turned into the Beast.

Everything I did annoyed him. Every time he belittled me, he’d flip it around and say I’d somehow taken his words out of context. He didn’t hug me as often; he didn’t caress me as he had before. With each day that passed, I felt more of a disconnect, and it worried me to my core.