Run Away With Me : A fast-paced psychological thriller Daniel Hurst (ebook offline reader TXT) 📖

looking and not touching. “Window shopping” I believe it is called. I’m guilty of doing that myself from time to time. I see a guy I like, and I’ll have a good look, but it doesn’t mean I’ll ever do anything about it.

I’d never cheat on Adam.

Never.

I listen to Alec finishing up his not-so hilarious story about the team bonding exercise he was once made to take part in at a previous company before realising that my drink is almost gone and I guess that’s my cue to leave.

I gather up my belongings and stand up quickly, knowing that it’s best to get out of these types of situations fast otherwise somebody will thrust another drink into my hand and I’ll find it hard to say no.

I say my goodbyes to everyone at the table, and I’m just thinking about giving Adam a quick call on my walk to the station when Bradley says he is leaving too. He says we can walk to the station together and I don’t see why not. He says his goodbyes too, and we’re on our way.

It’s a cool and crisp evening in Carlisle and Bradley and I walk quickly as we attempt to keep ourselves warm now that we have left the bar behind. The alcohol I have consumed is meaning I’m feeling the effects of the northern weather a little less than I would normally, but it’s definitely too cold for dawdling.

Bradley entertains me with jokey references to some of the colleagues we have just left behind in the bar, many of whom were in fairly inebriated states as we said goodbye to them. God knows what time they will end up calling it a night.

He makes me laugh several times as we walk together and we’re only a couple of minutes away from the station when we hear the live music from the bar just before it. The sign outside says ‘Happy Hour Every Hour’, and the sound of a guitarist performing inside draws our attention to the window where we look in and see a large group of people standing in front of a solo male performer on a small stage.

‘Oh my gosh, I love this song,’ I say as the musician begins the next part of his act, which seems to be covers of well-known tracks that he can be sure an audience will lap up.

‘It’s happy hour, apparently. You want to get one more for the road?’ Bradley asks me, and I’m seriously tempted, not just for the drink but because I absolutely love live music. It always takes me back to my younger, more carefree days when I was a student and backpacker. There’s nothing quite like standing in a crowded pub with a glass of something cold in your hand listening to a guitarist singing a song you know all the words to.

But it’s late. I should be getting back.

Adam will be waiting.

I’m torn, so I check the time again. My train is in three minutes. I’d have to run if I’m going to make it and running and me don’t really go well together. Or I could just get one more quick drink, enjoy a little music and get the train in half an hour.

‘Go on then!’ I say, and Bradley smiles before opening the door to the pub and allowing me to walk inside first.

The volume of the music grows louder as we make our way into the cosy venue and I’m amazed I’ve never been in this place before considering it is so close to the station. It’s just the kind of pub I love.

Low ceilings. Old furniture.

Character. History.

And best of all; cheap drinks.

‘What are you having?’ Bradley asks me as he takes out his wallet from the inside of his suit jacket.

‘I’ll get these,’ I tell him but Bradley insists, and I don’t offer much resistance.

Two minutes later and I have another vodka, lime and soda in my hand and I’m swaying to the music as Bradley sips his lager beside me. I get a strong scent of his aftershave as we stand shoulder to shoulder in the busy room, and I’m surprised I have never registered it before.

I like it, and I like being here right now.

The guitarist finishes his latest song and those in the pub who can bear to put their drink down for two seconds give him a round of applause before he’s quickly into his next cover. I notice there are a few people dancing closer to the stage and it’s great to see people out enjoying themselves on what is nothing more than a work night. I notice that most of the people in here tonight are wearing business attire and I imagine everyone has to be back at some desk somewhere in the city by nine tomorrow morning, but for now, all anybody is thinking about is having fun, and that’s the way it should be.

Bradley is certainly enjoying himself too. He’s already drunk half his lager, and he’s got a big grin across his face.

‘You like this kind of music?’ I ask him because I’m not sure if he’s genuinely enjoying the atmosphere in the pub or he just really wanted one more drink before going home.

‘Are you kidding? I love it,’ he replies. ‘You can’t beat live music. There’s something about being tipsy in a pub while someone plays the guitar that just makes you forget about everything else for a while. You know what I mean?’

I nod my head because I know exactly what he means. In here right now, nobody is worrying about their mortgage payments or their work deadlines. Instead, they are just enjoying the moment because it will be over all too quickly, and those external pressures will be waiting when it is.

‘You want to dance?’ Bradley asks, nodding towards the group of people who are already enjoying themselves on the patch of carpet in front of the stage.

‘Are you joking? I’m nowhere near drunk enough