29. Eric #3
With one more lingering kiss, flushed cheeks, and glistening eyes, Amanda excuses herself to the bathroom.
I lean back into the bench and scrub at my face, gathering the wetness around my eyes.
I hold onto the memory of her kiss, her taste on my lips.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering for a second before I let myself share this.
Eric
Man, I just kissed Amanda. I think we’re happening.
The response comes almost immediately.
Diego
About damn time. Also… I’m proud of you. You deserve this.
I smile at the device while I palm the center of my chest. A jumble of words rushes through as I rehearse a confession about the failures of my body. In the thick of it, I realize the words I choose don’t matter. Honesty does.
There’s a tap on the table. I look up, expecting to see Amanda.
Fucking Daray. He stands in front of me, shirtless and slick with sweat. His joggers sit low enough on his hips that the waistband of his underwear is showing. His smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, while his bulked-up frame leans over me, blocking the light.
“Well, that was really lovely.” He tilts his head back in the store’s direction, sandy blonde hair flipping with the movement. “Taking my leftovers out on a cheap-ass date?”
I stand, he may be wider, but I’m much taller, and not fucking intimidated by him. “What do you need, Daray?”
He’s got this gleam in his eyes, and he’s almost twitching with nervous energy, like there’s something he’s dying to get off his chest.
“Do I need anything?” He smirks, shrugging. “Just because I dumped that piece of ass doesn’t mean I don’t care if her rebound is treating her well. I mean, she’s clearly heartbroken. Making decisions she’ll regret.”
I tell myself it helps nobody if I punch the smirk right off his face.
I inhale deeply, forcing my hands to stay loose at my sides.
“Does her kissing me look anywhere near the way her kissing you felt?” I keep my expression flat, voice even.
“Because I’ve seen her kiss you before, and I’m not sure you’ve got the rebound thing right.
” I tilt my head. “You said it yourself. It was always about me.” I know I shouldn’t say it, but he got firsts that should’ve been mine, and I want him to know I’m reclaiming every single one.
I curl my hands into fists at my side. “From where I’m standing, you look like the decision she regrets. ”
“Amanda’s glowing.” He’s gritting the words through his smirk now.
“Pregnancy looks good on her.” A malicious gleam shines brighter in his eyes, just for a second.
Then, he tilts his head. “Hey, have you heard of Max’s new girl at all?
” He gives me a second to nod, but I don’t.
“Cute little thing. Swallow tattoo on her clavicle. Right here.” He taps the spot on his sweaty skin.
“She has this story. It’s sad, really, about this guy.
Dude she met at a bar. He’s sweetly in love with some girl.
Keeps going on and on about Amanda this, Amanda that.
” He shrugs, cruelty coming to him easily.
“Didn’t keep the guy from fucking her before Max was in the picture, mind you.
So much for being in love with her, right?
” He gestures with his hand, fingers loose at the movement, before his top lip pulls in a derisive smile.
“But when it came down to it? The dude couldn’t finish the job.
” He punctuates each word with a tap of his fingers on the table. “Couldn’t even come.”
The blood drains from my face, and my shoulders draw in. The space between my ribs tightens as I struggle to pull breaths in while I’m left with one of the people I despise the most, exposing something so shameful about myself.
“Best part of it?” His hand goes to my shoulder, pulling me in.
His deodorant is strong enough to choke on.
His touch makes my skin crawl. “Max showed her some wedding pics. Keith’s wedding.
Group shots. Real candid.” He leans into my ear, and I’m powerless to push him away.
“And, surprise, the guy was there.” He pulls back and meets my stare straight on.
“So tell me, fucker, how’s that kid yours if you won’t shoot cum? ”
I keep my expression neutral, hands fisting in my pockets.
“Shame, really,” Daray says, his voice is almost tender, even as his eyes flash with satisfaction.
There’s pain behind my ribs, but I don’t let it show. He’s not just trying to humiliate me—he’s trying to make me unravel right here, in public, where Amanda could walk out any second. I look up at him calmly, as if I’m not picturing driving my fist straight through his teeth.
“Done?” I ask, voice low.
He blinks, then he chuckles. “Not even close,” he mumbles, and backs away.
Amanda stands next to me a couple of seconds later, just on time to clock Daray’s retreat. “What the fuck did he want this time?”
I shrug. “Same thing as always.”
She reaches for my hand, but I flinch and step away before I can temper my reaction.
Her eyes widen with hurt that she masks well. “Eric, what did he say to you?”
She knows I wouldn’t have pulled away after that kiss. Not unless something broke again. And it has. It always does.
“Come on, Amanda,” I tip my head in the direction of the car. “Let me drop you off.”
She hears the difference. Let’s go home was a promise, let me drop you off is avoidance. She doesn’t respond, but she avoids touching me as we walk in silence back to my car.
I fucked up again.