Chapter 13
thirteen
Cash
The bell chimes above the door of the diner Maisy and I frequent, the harsh clang grating on my ears. Ever since we started college, we grab a meal together here once a week. Sometimes it’s Sunday breakfast, and sometimes, like tonight, it’s a Wednesday dinner, but we always make it happen.
I scan over the laminated menu before setting it down, then glance around the restaurant without really seeing any of it.
“You want to share something?” Maisy asks. “I can’t decide between fajitas and a burger.”
“No.”
“What are you getting?”
“Same thing I always get.” I flick a crumb off the table. “Is there a reason we have to eat here every single time we go out? It’s not even good.”
“What are you so grouchy about?”
I glare at her. What am I so grouchy about?
I’m grouchy about my sister’s childhood insecurity keeping me away from the only girl I’ve ever wanted to love.
I’m grouchy because I can’t sleep while that same girl’s voice plagues my head every minute of the day.
I’m grouchy because, after a full week of not seeing or hearing from Georgia, I have no appetite and am forcing myself to eat meals that taste like nothing and stick in my throat just so I can keep up my workouts.
I’m grouchy because I haven’t gotten laid in weeks because if I can’t have Georgia in my bed, I don’t want anyone.
“Nothing,” I finally grunt. For the first time in my life, there’s something I can’t tell my sister.
I can’t show her the texts Georgia sent me last week after game night asking for time to think things through, can’t tell her it took everything not to ask Georgia what that means and how worried I should be that I’ll never get to kiss her again.
“You want to hang out for a while?” Maisy asks after dinner as I drive her home. “I have the house to myself for a couple hours.”
Even if it’s for the best, disappointment hits me at knowing I won’t get to see Georgia tonight. “Yeah, sure.”
Maisy must be tired of my horrible mood because as soon as I sit on the couch, she flips on the first sports game she can find.
I wish I was interested. While the TV drones on, I find myself searching out little signs of Georgia: her black-and-pink snow boots by the door, a little book of paint samples on top of a pile of mail, the thick gold hoop earrings resting on the side table—the ones she wore to game night with that tight white sweater that set off her black hair and had me staring at her all night.
“Georgia’s not home, huh?”
“Well, I told you I have the house to myself, so you do the math.”
I want to see her so fucking bad, it’s probably not even normal.
“What’d you guys do last weekend?”
She shrugs. “Nothing much. Georgia has her house projects, and she likes to do a big breakfast on Sundays.”
“She’s a good cook, huh?”
Maisy glares at me. “I can tell you’re into her.”
“Sherlock Holmes over here.”
“And I’ll remind you again you can’t have her. Georgia’s not that kind of girl, anyway.”
I whip my head toward her. “What kind of girl?”
“The hookup kind. The kind who won’t care if you sleep together and never speak again.”
“That’s not what I want from her. Not even close.”
“That’s what you want from every girl you’re interested in, Cash.”
“I’m not interested in her, Maisy,” I snap. “I’m—”
She stares at me, knowing what I was about to say but not quite believing it; just like me. Because she never thought she’d hear me say those words, and neither did I. Not until the night I saw Georgia across the room.
It’s true, though, even if it scares me. I’m in love with Georgia. Is that possible? To love someone you’ve only known a few weeks? I never thought I’d be this guy. And if it’s not possible, I’m sure as hell in love with the way I feel when she’s near me.
Maisy swallows and waves me off. “Stop it, Cash.” She focuses back on the TV, trying to play it off, but I know my sister, and I know she’s thrown. “You two don’t even know each other.”
“How would you know?”
“She doesn’t talk about you like that. Or at all.” She gives me a brief look that’s somewhere between pity and irritation. “I’m sorry, but whatever it is you’re feeling, it’s not mutual.”
A lump lodges in my throat, robbing me of air, and I have to swallow hard to choke it down.
No fucking way. She’s wrong. “How would you know? You haven’t seen what she’s like when it’s just us, Maisy. You don’t understand how different this is.”
“How is it different?”
“Because every other time I’ve chased a girl, the reason could be summed up with one word: horniness, competition, or boredom. With Georgia, there aren’t words. I could read the dictionary out loud, and after all those words, I still wouldn’t have named half of what I feel for her.”
My sister’s face softens in sympathy. “And Georgia’s feelings?”
“I’d bet my life one word doesn’t sum it up.”
“Then why is she on a date with another guy?”
In the silence, I replay the question, wishing like hell I misheard. My mouth tastes so bitter I want to throw up. “She’s on a date right now?” My sister’s the only person I could ever let hear the hurt in my voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“With who?” I sit up on the edge of the couch.
“You don’t know him.”
Anger flickers inside me, a welcome relief from the hurt. “With who, I said.”
“The guy who plows her driveway. Does it even matter?”
“Plows…her driveway?” I drawl, the words fueling my fury. The images that spring to mind make me want to break things.
Rolling her eyes, she huffs, “Jesus, Cash, I’m speaking literally. He clears the snow that accumulates on the driveway at her aunt’s house.”
This doesn’t make it any better. “Does she—I mean, was she excited?” How can she be on a date with another man? My brain doesn’t even register other women at this point.
Maisy’s brows quirk in confusion. “I guess. She wasn’t bothered when he rescheduled from Saturday to today, so she must like him.”
I swallow down hard as fear and jealousy squeeze my heart in a vise. “Where’d he take her?”
“The fact you think I’d tell you is insulting. She’s on a date of her own free will, and it’s not your business. Leave her alone.”
The heat in her voice is the giveaway. “Why does it bother you so much that I’m into her?”
“It bothers me every time you’re into one of my friends.”
“No, not like this. I’ve never been into your friends like this, and you’ve never cared this much. Is it because you know this is different?”
“I’m done trying to talk you out of your feelings. You want to believe you love this girl you’ve known for a few weeks—a girl who doesn’t let anyone in, by the way—go ahead and believe it. But I’m telling you to leave her alone. It’s not going to work.”
“You mean you don’t want it to work.”
She gets up and stalks away. “I’m going to get something to drink.”
With an angry swipe, I knock one of the couch pillows to the ground like a little kid throwing a tantrum.
Then my eyes land on Maisy’s phone face down on the coffee table.
After a quick glance at her retreating back, I grab it and type in her passcode.
I’ll troll downtown Shafer all night if that’s my only option, but if Georgia shares her location with Maisy, she’s about to save my ass hours of wasted time.
Come on, Georgia. I tap on Maisy’s texts. Be that kind of girl for me.
And she is. I almost hoot when I see her location below her name in the text thread.
I press on it, and a map of Shafer pops up, along with Georgia’s initials in a small circle.
I zoom in quickly, expecting Maisy to return any second.
She’s either at Somerset Grill, an upscale place where Jade works, or Ace Bar, the shitty dive Somerset shares a building with.
Fuck this snowplow guy if he took my girl to a dive bar. Actually, know what? Fuck him if he took her to Somerset, too. For the first time in my life, I actually hate someone.
I don’t bother to find Maisy and say bye before I head out. I don’t need a mirror to tell me there’s a wild look in my eyes that’d be a dead giveaway I’m about to do something everyone else would consider a horrible idea.
I park a block away from the brick building that houses Somerset and Ace Bar before ducking into the restaurant. It’s only 8:00 p.m., and anyway, no man is stupid enough to believe the Ace Bar on a first date would impress a girl like Georgia.
Right inside the doors, a perky hostess greets me with a wide smile. “Good evening.”
I catch the moment she recognizes me, her chin dipping and her gaze turning sultry.
Must be a Shafer student. I smile back, pondering whether I can use my status to my advantage, but there’s nothing she can do for me.
“I’m just meeting someone.” Squaring my shoulders, I stride past her and onto the restaurant floor.
The entire place is dark walls and soft, golden lighting, which means I have to study each dark-haired female to make out any recognizable features.
No sign of Georgia. There are a few tables occupied by single dudes; maybe she’s in the bathroom and one of these guys is her date.
But none of them look even halfway worthy of her—they sure as hell don’t look anything like me.
What kind of man would she take a chance on?
That’s when I realize I arrived with zero plan. Am I nuts to be here? Did I come to talk to Georgia or to scare off her man? I don’t know what I’m doing, only that I have to do something.
“Cash?”
I turn to find Jade—clad in her uniform of a white button-down, black tie, and black skirt—at my side, a glass of white wine in her hand.
“Jade,” I say with relief. “Just the girl I need.”
“If your charm didn’t work on the hostess, I can’t get you a table either, my friend.”
“It’s not that.” I take her arm and nudge her up against the partition that separates the tables from the hostess stand so we’re a little less conspicuous. “Did you see Georgia here?”
“Yeah, she’s one of my tables.” Averting her gaze, she tugs at her collar. “I guess things didn’t work out with you two, huh?”