Wasted Words (11 page)

I blinked, surprised. But before I even considered accepting, a response left my mouth. “Thanks for the invitation, but I’m meeting Cam at Wasted Words tonight. Raincheck?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, though she didn’t fully cover her disappointment. “Sure. I’m sorry to put you on the spot like that.”

“You didn’t,” I lied, turning the conversation back to work. “I’ll give you a call on Monday and we can see how the weekend treated Pharaoh.”

“Absolutely. And maybe I can cash that raincheck in soon.”

“Just say the word.”

“All right.” I could hear her smiling. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Have a great weekend, Adrienne.”

I hung the phone on the cradle and stared at it.

I’d just been asked out by a beautiful, successful woman who I got along well with, someone whose company I enjoyed, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d opted to go to a book bar to hang out with my roommate.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t dated in a while. Maybe I was gun-shy. Off the horse too long. But deep down I knew it was more than that.

On paper, Adrienne and I made sense. There was no reason to refuse her, and even Cam was on board. I thought back to last night and the conversation she and I had about Adrienne. Cam was insistent and determined — I could see it in her eyes, she wanted me to date Adrienne. She saw it as a good match, and maybe it was, but I wasn’t really interested.
 

I’d rather be a bar fly alone.

No, not alone. With Cam.

My soul staggered as I sat at my desk in my office, damp palms on the cool surface.

Cam and Adrienne were nothing alike, and I realized that was part of the reason I found myself seeking Cam’s company. She was my friend, the person who I told almost everything. I found comfort in her, the familiarity, the
realness
of her. I knew her, and she knew me, the real me, and that was all she ever asked for.
 

It was in the mundane moments that I noticed her. It was watching her read, curled up on the couch with her face reflecting whatever emotion she read. It was seeing that same face all scrunched up, tongue poking from between her rosy lips as she kicked my ass at Smash Brothers. The disappointment in her big, brown eyes when another book failed to capture my attention.

But she wasn’t interested. I mean, sometimes she looked at me like those sides of beef we’d joked about last night, but I didn’t think anything of it. She was attracted to me too, but that was it. Just physical.

Wasn’t it?

I didn’t have a shot with her — I wasn’t her type. She’d said it a thousand times. But that didn’t stop us from being friends. It didn’t stop me from wanting to hang out with her. It didn’t stop me from watching her make coffee, or stretch in those little shorts she wore to bed, all the while thinking about her body against mine.

I wondered, and not for the first time, if she would ever date me. If she’d let me kiss her. If she’d kiss me back.

No
, I told myself.
 

She’d only shoot me down, and it could ruin our friendship, put some weird juju on us that would just make living with her incredibly awkward. Not that I couldn’t handle the rejection — I’d been rejected plenty, and for a number of reasons. But rejection from Cam would be different. It wouldn’t be so easy as the others, and some of them were a level of hell I didn’t typically care to discuss.

It was then that I decided I’d hit the gym hard to clear my head and then stay home tonight. Or maybe I’d call Kyle, blow off some steam. Either way, space seemed like a smart move, and as I packed up my things, I wondered whether I was right or wrong.

Cam

Greg smiled at me from across the bar when I walked in that evening. The happy hour crowd was going strong, and I made my way around the back of the bar to jump in and help him and Beau out, happy to be busy after a long day reading and laying around like a fat-assed cat. The most productive thing I’d done was bake cookies, but I negated my productiveness by eating half of them.

I’m not telling how many dozens I made. A girl’s got to have her secrets.

Once we had the bar under control, we made our way down the line, making sure everything was stocked, wiping down the surfaces while Beau headed to the back with racks of pint and rocks glasses to send through the dishwasher. Greg and I stood at the dish wells to catch up on the more delicate wine and martini glasses as Greg washed and I rinsed, and I smiled over at him.

“How’d it go last night?”

He shrugged. “Fine. We made good money, locked it up tight.”

“Get Bayleigh home all right?”

“Yeah, she lives close by, so it was no big deal.” He smiled that winning smile of his, his tattooed arms dunked in the soapy water.

I smiled back, picturing the two of them together. “It was really great of you to offer. She’s so adorable.”

He chuckled. “She is. A real sweetheart.”

“Hey, you’re one to talk. You guys are two of the best people we have working here, no lie.”

“Is that why you schedule us together all the time?” he asked with a brow up and a smirk on his lips.

I smirked right back. “One reason.”

He laughed and handed me a glass.

“I bet the crowd last night ate up your costumes last night. Cool that you guys matched.”

“I’m sure it didn’t hurt the tip jar one bit. Though I don’t know if I’ll wear a full spandex bodysuit again.”

“Aww,” I said with a laugh. “But the ladies sure loved it. I’m thinking I should have you, Beau, and Harrison all work a shift dressed up as Spiderman, Superman, and Batman. Beau’s got the hair for it, I bet it’d even make that little curly-cue in the front. I’m a thousand percent sure we could all make a killing.”

“So, bookstore, bar, and strip club?”

“Hey, who said anything about stripping? I’m talking about covering you head to toe in beautiful, breathable spandex.”

He laughed. “It was fun. There were a few Mary Jane’s in the crowd who wanted pictures. Bayleigh was the only Gwen.”

“Well, she’s one of a kind.”

“And Harley Quinn took a picture hammering my ass.”

I snorted.

“Your roommate’s costume was great, too. Original to go for Steve Rogers over the full-on Cap.”

“It was his idea,” I said as I took another glass from him and rinsed it off.

One brow rose. “Really?”
 

“No. But it
was
his idea to make a shield out of a trashcan lid.”

He snickered, but the crowed had lined up again, and before I knew it, a few hours had passed. The Friday night rush was bumping at Wasted Words, and I scanned the crowd, looking for Tyler. He should have already been there, but he was nowhere to be seen, so as soon as there was a lull in work, I pulled out my phone to text him.
 

But I found a text from him.

Hey, I’m exhausted from last night and a long day. I’m just gonna hang here, but maybe I’ll see you tonight, if you’re home before I crash. If not, tomorrow is college ball, which means you’re mine, all day. Have a good shift.

My heart did an awkward backflip, and I read the line again.
You’re mine, all day.

Then, I freaked out.

What the hell did he mean
his
? He said it like he was talking about my heart or my soul or my vagina. Maybe all three. My thighs squeezed together at the thought. I mean, we watched football every Saturday that he wasn’t traveling, so of course I’d be there. Of course we’d be together. But
his
?
 

I don’t doubt that anyone attracted to the Y chromosome would oppose to being
his
for any length of time. An hour. Several weeks. Life. Whatever.

I’d be the last person to complain. I cared about Tyler a lot, maybe even more than I was willing to admit. I made the mistake of letting myself really consider it for the first time, but I didn’t get very far before the memory of Will blazed through me. I shrank away from the thought.

Familiar anxiety bloomed in my chest, and I took a breath to steel myself.
 

I had always been a floater in high school, not belonging to any clique, though not what you’d call a loner either. I was enough of an extrovert to be comfortable in most social situations, friends with everyone and no one, a quirky installment in the school. I was the girl who wore and acted upon and said what she wanted, gaining me the simultaneous freedom and isolation I’d earned.

Sophomore year, I was placed in AP physics with the seniors. I’m generally pretty unflappable, but being in that class with all of the older kids was intimidating, and being partnered for the year with Will Mercer did nothing to help that.

Will was that legendary guy everyone knew and loved, from the band nerds to the cheerleaders and everyone in between. He was always nominated for something — student council president, homecoming court, basketball awards, and he honestly seemed like one of the nice guys, the kind who didn’t seem to take advantage of their status for personal gain, which made him all that more appealing.

It started off innocently enough. He didn’t have a girlfriend at the time — his on-again, off-again relationship with Kenzie Schroeder was, at the time, in the off position. We worked well together, made easy by his charming conversation and our mutual interests of sports and comics. He was smart — smart and beautiful and funny — and over the course of the first few months of the school year, our chatting and laughter turned into looks that burned and lingered, full of something deeper than I could grasp, at the time. All that I knew was that every day, that fifty-five-minute class was what I lived for and longed after.
 

We were deep into fall when I found myself sitting next to him at his kitchen table, working on a project. When I looked up to speak to him, I found him just watching me, his face soft, and I froze when he leaned in and kissed me.

He wasn’t my first kiss, but his was the first that I felt from the tip of my nose down to my toes.

I remembered his smile, so strong, begging for my trust. I remembered his warm hand on my cheek and his lips against mine, even now, even years later.
 

Every day I was at his house, every day kissing him, every day in his arms. At school, we kept our distance, passing furtive glances at each other in the hall, his hand brushing mine in class. But when we were in his room in the quiet afternoons, there was nothing between us. No walls, no rules, just him and I, our hearts. We spent hours talking, kissing, holding each other. And then I decided I didn’t want to hold back. I wanted to let go. So I gave myself to him.

He was gentle and sweet, every touch full of worship, taking his time with me, knowing I was a virgin. It was the first time I’d given anyone my heart, and I believed he would care for it — his eyes and lips told me so.

Afterward, I lay in his arms, and he whispered promises. He asked me to be his date for homecoming, asked me to be
his
. But I already was, and I told him so.
 

I left his house that day feeling like I could fly. The rest of my night was spent looking for a dress for the dance, and I lay in bed that night, staring at my ceiling with a smile on my face as I daydreamed about every moment of the day that had been, of the nights to come, of the time between, of holding his hand down the halls and being kissed at my locker.

The next morning, I was still high, choosing my outfit carefully, taking a little time on my hair, even wearing mascara and a little lip gloss. I wanted to look good for him, worthy of standing next to him, and I was filled with hope and nerves at the thought of seeing him again.

Nothing prepared me for what happened when I did.

I’d been beaming as I walked the busy hall before the bell rang — I could feel the warmth in my cheeks and the light in my eyes. He was tall enough that I caught sight of him easily, my heart flipping when I did. And then my stomach flipped, and both landed in my shoes.

His arm was slung on Kenzie’s shoulder, and he was looking down at her, laughing at something she’d said. He looked at her like he’d looked at me just the day before, and I wondered if it had all been a dream.
 

They stopped at her locker, and he pressed her up against it and kissed her, just like I’d imagined he would do to me. Except she wasn’t me.

I didn’t realize I’d stalled in the hallway, classmates streaming around me like I was a stone in the river, and my eyes locked on Will as my chest burned with hurt and shame.
 

He looked up and saw me, his smile slipping away when our eyes met.

I sucked in a breath before I turned and bolted.

I wound my way through people, eyes blurring with tears, needing air, needing sky, needing out of the building where I felt like I’d be crushed and crumbled if I’d stayed.

I heard him behind me, but I didn’t stop, not until I was under the bleachers. I didn’t want him to see me cry, didn’t want him to see me at all, didn’t want him to know he’d hurt me. But it was no use.

His eyes were so sad when I turned to face him, the pain evident when he apologized. He wasn’t thinking when he asked me, he’d said. We would never work, he told me. He said it didn’t matter how much he liked me or how much I liked him — we were too different, from different worlds, and how could people who weren’t alike work out? Plus, he and Kenzie were both nominated for homecoming court and had a better chance of winning if they were together.

That moment was the first time I’d ever felt like I didn’t know him at all. So I looked up at him with my eyes full of tears and heart busted in a thousand pieces and told him he was right. That it was my mistake because I’d thought we were a lot more alike than we actually were.

He hugged me, whispering apologies before he kissed my hair and walked away.

For a long time, I sat under the bleachers and cried. I’d been stupid, so stupid and short-sighted. How could I have thought he’d really wanted to be with me? His words had been empty, meaningless, but I’d believed every one. I thought it was real, but I was a fool. He’d betrayed me. And for what?