Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
kane
when was it over? – Sasha Alex Sloan (ft. Sam Hunt)
Did I piss off some higher power and this is my punishment?
First, I wake up late for my shift, spill half my coffee on the way out to my truck, and then discover that the radio is jammed on the most irritating station.
I mean, it must be a joke that someone who has dubbed himself Alpha Adam has a radio show where like-minded idiots call in to complain about why women don’t deserve them and everything they bring to the table.
I listened to his grating voice for a total of thirty-four minutes—yes, I counted—before determining that I’m officially living in my own personal version of hell and turn the radio off.
I’m unable to drive in silence and risk my own suffocating thoughts, but I’m really not sure which is worse to face this morning.
It’s only made my already foul mood—the one I’ve been sporting since running into Avery last night at Second Chances for the first time since the breakup—even worse, like a dark cloud hanging over me.
I was up all night tossing and turning, replaying every moment of our conversation and trying to figure out why she switched up so quickly.
She had been smiling. At me. It felt like a good sign, like maybe after some time apart she was ready to talk. I was about to ask her if we could at least plan a time to have a conversation when she did a complete one-eighty, switching from joy to anger. I still haven’t figured out why.
Now, the angel herself is walking into the bar on my first shift back after two weeks.
Part of me wonders if she knows it’s my first night back, but knowing Avery, she wouldn’t have come if she did.
She’s avoided every place we might run into each other since the breakup—even going as far as to kick me off her music playlists, leading me to find her profile so I can keep up with all the new songs she’s listening to and learn them on guitar.
How pathetic of me to resort to some light stalking just for more of her.
After what she said last night, I can’t imagine she’d be here if she knew.
But of course, here she is anyway, looking like my fucking wet dream in skintight pants and an intricate top that reveals a strip of her smooth stomach.
A dream I’ve had every night since she left, slowly torturing me with the reminder of what I’ve lost.
I turn around, readjusting myself in my pants before someone notices and calls the cops for public indecency.
Apparently, even seeing a glimpse of her stomach nowadays makes me hard, though I shouldn’t be surprised given that just being around her left me constantly aching when we were together.
It was a test of my willpower, trying to avoid locking her in the closest room and having my way with her constantly.
Ever since the first time I saw Avery senior year, I haven’t been able to look away. I don’t see that changing now.
Her brown hair is impossibly long and straight, practically reaching her perfectly round, toned ass, and her makeup is slightly heavier than her usual everyday look, though she still wears her signature all-black outfit.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as Morgan and Avery take a seat near the dartboards and pool tables to the left side of the bar. Of course, every man in here has already spotted them, appearing to call dibs around their respective friend groups. My fists clench at my side.
Unable to look at Avery for a second longer without storming over there and demanding she talk to me, I pop my knuckles to release some of the tension, then turn to grab the Tito’s, only to run into Lindsay.
“Geez, giganto. Just because you’re three feet taller than the rest of us doesn’t mean you can walk around without looking. You ought to look down occasionally to make sure you don’t run over us bottom dwellers,” she jokes.
I swear under my breath, hoping the commotion doesn’t draw Avery’s attention this way. I don’t want to break my cover of getting to watch her without her knowing yet.
“Hey, Kane, what’s wrong? Why do you seem broodier than usual?” Lindsay asks. “I didn’t even think that was possible. You’ve definitely held the title of King Brood of all my friends thus far, but this seems abnormal for your normal…”
Lindsay follows my gaze toward Avery, who thankfully still seems unaware I’m here.
When I look back down at her, an unnerving smirk spreads across Lindsay’s face.
I roll my eyes and pretend I didn’t hear her comment.
She needles me constantly and I pretend to hate it, but she’s starting to feel like the sister I never got to have.
When I don’t respond, she continues, “So that’s the girlfriend, huh? Pretty. Too pretty for you, that’s for sure.”
“Ex,” I mumble, turning back to my task at hand—a vodka soda and two vodka Red Bulls—before they’re whisked away by one of our servers.
“Ex?” Lindsay scoffs. “With the way you’re mooning over that girl, are you sure you know you’re her ex?
” She leans next to me on the bar, clearly loving the way my skin is crawling with this conversation.
“Matter of fact, does she know she’s yours?
Because with the way she’s been watching you every time you turn around, I can practically smell the angst from here. ”
My body stills. I guess Avery has spotted me, then.
Fuck.
“Yes, ex. It’s recent,” I clarify, not making eye contact. I continue filling orders as they come in, hoping she gets the hint that I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
“Recent.” She lets out a low a whistle. “So, you were checking your messages the other night and not secretly watching porn under the table? I will say, I’m very happy about this revelation.
I was worried. My brother had a porn addiction, and it was scary.
I mean, who wants to listen to moans over waffles? ”
“Lindsay,” I say, exasperated as I put the finishing touches on the drinks, adding a little bit of extra lemon to the Coke and vodka before getting Grayson’s draft beer.
“Right, okay. So, she’s your ex. Why’d you break up?” Lindsay prods.
“I don’t know.”
Lindsay narrows her eyes. “What do you mean you don’t know? You have an ex that you’re clearly obsessed with. But you don’t know why she’s your ex?”
“No,” I grunt. She rubs two fingers against her temples, as if I’m a child who won’t listen the first time I’m asked to do something and she’s already sick of me.
“This is why I’m a fucking lesbian,” she mutters under her breath. “Okay, so here’s what you’re going to do. The blonde one ordered drinks. I think you should take them over there.” Lindsay hands me a tray.
“I made their drinks before she even ordered,” I mutter, placing the drinks on the tray. I hold it out to Lindsay, silently letting her know I’m not delivering them.
“Oh no, I’m not doing your dirty work,” she says, waving me away.
I freeze, tray in hand, and ask, “What the fuck do you mean?”
“Put your big-boy pants on and go deliver drinks to your ex and your friends. Maybe by the time you get to their table, you’ll learn what words are and how to fucking use them, dumbass.” She moves toward the back of the bar, effectively stopping any rebuttal I might have had.
I guess I’m delivering these drinks.
To Avery.