Chapter 7 #2
I mock a gasp, looking between Will and his exceptionally gorgeous girlfriend and I catch a quick spark of amusement in her gaze. Like she’s letting me in on something and she doesn’t do that often. Right then, I decide I like her.
Will can’t even spare a glance. He’s slouched back in his chair, his menu leaning on his lap against the table as his long arm dangles on the back of Olivia’s chair.
A cocktail waitress wearing a skirt almost as short as mine saunters over, holding what appears to be a whiskey on the rocks.
She leans beside him, her cleavage on full display as she sets down his glass.
“Your usual,” she says, giving him a coy smile which he returns, overtly flirtatious for someone seated directly beside his girlfriend. He turns his snaky, green eyes toward me, and any trace of attractiveness I once saw is washed away by the red now painting Olivia’s cheeks.
“I said you look totally fine—to be clear.” He shrugs at me disinterested before returning to his menu.
“And yeah, I mean it’s nothing to write home about.
Not worth being late over.” His tone is bored and makes me want to grab my fork, reach over, and stab him with it as his eyes flick over the menu.
Ben seems to match the violence that has entered my mood, his whole arm flexed near his stake knife.
“You look great Olivia.” Ben’s deep voice has gravity to it and I watch Olivia’s blush deepen. “You were right when you saw it on the rack—that color suits you.”
Both Grant and I freeze, Ben’s words hanging heavy over the table. Any suspicion that something was going on with the three of them was confirmed with the petty way the words left Ben’s mouth. They catch Will’s attention, his eyes flicking up venomously.
“What does he mean you were right?” The words come out like a hiss fully directed at Olivia.
I watch her lock up, her posture prim, her expression restrained.
The hypocrisy is clear to everyone at the table, as just seconds ago he was fully checking out our waitress.
Still, I find it hard to believe that something is going on with Ben and Olivia.
Even if Will is the absolute worst, which I suspect he is, that’s still his brother.
Olivia seems far too high strung to be a cheater.
Surely, Ben wouldn’t come back to campus after years away only to steal his captain spot and his girlfriend?
She mumbles some response quietly, so myself and the others can’t hear. I’m trying my best to appear like I’m not eavesdropping when my attention pulls to further down the room.
“Finally!” One of the guys shouts from the other side of the dining room.
The guys jeer and shout as a red head in sky high heels that she definitely hasn’t practiced walking in traipses into the room.
She smiles sheepishly, like she wasn’t expecting this reaction, as she glances back, tugging on her date’s hand.
“Alright man, get your ass in here,” Josiah calls. My curiosity is piqued and I finally realize exactly who’s been missing this evening just as he walks through the doorway, slipping his phone in his pocket on a sigh, before a cocky smile blooms across his beautiful face.
Of course.
Andrew’s hand casually wraps around the red head’s waist and my mind drifts back to our brief dance at the warehouse party, remembering the feel of his hands on me.
Seeing his hand on someone else is a blowback it shouldn’t be.
He’s exactly who he’s been since day one, but my body can’t seem to get in line.
I itch with irritation as my heart rate increases.
The girl actually preens, like she’s just caught the biggest fish in the pond. And unfortunately, standing there in his blue knit sweater, his hair expertly tucked under a backwards baseball hat, I find that I wouldn’t mind going fishing myself.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope, I tell myself, mindlessly clutching a roll to slather butter on.
“Yo, Andrew.” Will raises his hand, signaling him over with the curl of his fingers like a dog and I look up as Andy jogs over.
I sip the red wine Ben just refilled for me, distracting myself by looking at the menu, but I can feel his eyes on me like a million camera flashes in a dark room.
They burn into me, pleading for me to look back.
“Don’t bother man. Fielder's sister.” Will’s tone is suggestive, as if they know something about me that I don’t. I drop my menu, finally meeting Andy’s gaze and watch as his hesitant smile slowly unfolds.
It shouldn’t be this disarming, this genuine, like early morning sunshine peaking through curtains.
I feel the corners of my own mouth start to tug, this animalistic need to return what he’s giving me pushing against my sensibility, but I stamp out any trace of authenticity, replacing it with sarcasm.
I make a show of peeking around Andy to glance at his date.
“So is it like Tuesday’s for brunettes and Friday’s for red heads? Just tryin’ to understand your schedulin’ strategy…” I have no clue how he actually spends his free time, but I have my guesses.
Andy’s eyes shift, heat and amusement flashing in them as he and his date walk past me, but not before dipping his head just enough to mutter in my ear.
“Jealousy looks good on you.” He straightens, cocking his head to the side, signaling Scott, who I’ve learned is second string and bottom of the social food chain, to move down a few seats.
He abides, moving over so there's two seats open.
I narrow my eyes as Andy's date stalks away, the clack of her heels unfortunate as she finds her seat, a lobster-hued blush swallowing her face whole.
“In your dreams, Spellman,” I tell him, rolling my eyes as he winks, taking his seat next to his date.
For what it’s worth, he says some placating thing about her heels not being that loud in her ear, because she relaxes in her chair and reaches under the table so that, I’m assuming she’s touching his thigh.
She finds her earlier confidence, unbothered that her date was just flirting with another woman.
But then I guess, the expectations are clear.
My teeth grind.
“Sloane,” Grant’s irritating voice cuts in, low and foreboding. I force myself to glance back down at my menu, frustrated by Andy’s insinuation and my brother’s attention to me at all, and fight the way my gaze wants to pull up and toward the annoying charming man across the table.
Still, I feel his eyes on me. Feel the way they trace my face, and I want to ask if he’d like a photograph so he can study it later, but that’d be more flirting.
I need to stop speaking to him, need to stop caring whether he’s looking or not.
I shift in my chair to face Olivia who gladly accepts the distraction, but only for so long: we’re thirty minutes into a conversation about the democratization of art when her eyes look like they’re starting to glaze over.
“Sorry—this is so so interesting,” she says, covering her yawn and I appreciate her attempt at a lie. “I just need to use the restroom.” She slides out of her seat, and heads toward the open dining room housing the other patrons, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The guys are all engrossed in a conversation about playoffs and I can see Andy’s date, who I’ve since learned is named Bridget, sucking down her fourth glass of champagne.
She attempts to flirt with Scott, whose vulgar questions about the carpets matching the drapes are met with more and more giggles.
Andy doesn’t notice; he doesn’t care, which makes me feel better than it should.
He nods at something Ben’s saying and I let myself watch him for a minute.
The way his brow furrows when he considers whatever’s being said is adorable and at odds with the cocky, fuck boy attitude he’s so committed to.
I track the small quirk of his lips and the effortless confidence evident in the way he’s casually leaning back in his chair, arms crossed so I can see the curved shape of his biceps.
He shrugs in response to something, and it exaggerates the powerful outline of his shoulders.
Like he could feel me watching, he suddenly shifts his gaze to my side of the table.
My face flushes when he catches my stare.
He looks as thrown off as I feel, his face heating as his eyes pin me, but I don’t look away.
It feels like a year in the span of a second.
And when Bridget notices and grasps his arm, giggling in his ear, his eyes still don’t leave mine.
A familiar, sweeping feeling passes over me.
Like a song you felt deep in your soul as a child, memorized every word to, even though you didn’t know what they meant.
I hate that I think of Elliot now, and all the pain that made me come here; it forces me to break eye contact, and I shift my attention to Olivia who's just making her way back.
“Have you gone to Little Boo’s yet? Their ice cream is quite literally a spiritual awakening.
” Her smile is friendly as she pulls out her chair.
It would take an idiot not to notice that in the hour her boyfriend has ignored her she’s seemed much more herself.
I force my expression to match hers, still feeling the warmth of Andy’s attention.
“Darlin’, a spiritual awakening sounds exactly like what I need right now.”