2. Casey
Casey
I almost answer him. Almost tell him yes, I missed him. Missed him so fucking much, but I’ve been missing him, and I keep putting one foot in front of the other. Doesn’t change what happened between us. Nothing can undo that.
He flashes a smile in my direction as though the past has disappeared. Perhaps he thinks since he came back, we can patch things up. Not happening. I hate him. I miss him, but I hate him.
I clutch Derek’s hand, scooting closer to him. He pulls me toward him and begins swaying to the music. This is what I need. A man who puts me first.
Still, as I dance with Derek I can’t help but watch Caleb. He walks over to Brady and they embrace in a manly sort of bro hug. You know, the kind where you don’t know how big of a hug to give or for how long so you sort of just pat each other’s backs? Yeah. That kind.
“Are you okay?” Derek asks.
“Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because your ex just showed up, and I know how volatile your relationship can be.”
Volatile. That’s a nice way of putting it.
We argued all the damn time. If I said ham was better, he’d argue that turkey was.
We’d argue, break up, and then make up. I can tell you, make-up sex is the best fucking sex you’ll ever have in your life.
Maybe that’s why we behaved the way we did.
But we were careless with each other, and eventually, it became too much for me.
There’s something about Caleb that pushes my buttons, and I either want to screw him or tear his head off. I’m totally over that first part, but the latter is still right up there. His smug attitude is already pissing me off, and I haven’t even talked to him yet.
He’s different tonight, though. I can’t figure it out, but I know he isn’t the same Caleb who left. His hair is a little longer, maybe darker. And it’s not covered by his signature baseball cap. His attire is the same as always — jeans and a T-shirt.
“We can go,” Derek offers.
He’s the opposite of Caleb. Not just physically, considering Derek is wearing pressed slacks and a tie. He doesn’t pick fights with me over silly things. Actually, he doesn’t pick fights at all. He’s pretty much perfect.
So why am I staring at Caleb? Why is there a part of me that wishes he would interrupt this dance and pull me into his arms?
The song ends, and we rejoin Jade and Madden at the table. She gives me a knowing look and asks if I’m okay.
“I am perfectly fine.”
“Good. I don’t want any trouble here tonight. The two of you caused enough of that at Thanksgiving.”
“Just a little food fight,” I reply with a smirk.
She still looks nervous, but then her eyes focus on the new, shiny rock on her finger and a bright smile replaces her frown. She leans her head on Madden’s shoulder, and she’s too lost in her bliss to lecture me anymore.
A million questions are racing through my mind, but everything stops when Caleb heads our way. That swagger. That smirk. That...
I hate him.