13. Chapter 13
I’m so worked up after lecture class, I go for a run as soon as I get home. It’s the best way to clear my head. I pop in my earbuds, crank up the tunes, and take off. Running is my favorite form of exercise. I can go as fast as I want, for as long as I want, and never have to worry about someone being in my way.
With the exception of traffic, that is.
A car makes a right turn without yielding even though I have the walk sign. They cut me off, nearly sideswiping me. “Asshole!” I shout, throwing my hands in the air.
With a sharp exhale, I start jogging again. If I want to get rid of all this tension, I need to keep going. Each time my feet pound against the pavement, I feel a little bit of anger release, but I can tell this will take a while.
Why does Sam have to ruin everything? And why does he have to be such a jerk about it?
I grit my teeth as his words echo in my mind, You were all too willing…
Maybe I was willing to let him in, but is that a bad thing? Like Lisa said, my heart was just starved for affection, and I had a weak moment, but I won’t have any more.
My frustration with Sam is so high, I focus solely on it, drowning out everything else. Until my music gets interrupted by the ding of my phone. When I check it, I find a message from my Friday morning tutor client saying she needs to cancel tomorrow.
Great. That’s my longest session. There goes a good chunk of money.
With a sigh, I glance at the time. Holy shit, I’ve been running for three hours. I didn’t even notice, but now that I’ve stopped, the burn shoots through my muscles. Maybe it’s time for a break.
As I come to a bus stop, I take a minute to stretch, and another message comes through. This time it’s Lisa asking if I want to join her, Jackie, and Hannah for dinner at When in Rome, our favorite pizza place.
Pizza isn’t exactly the healthiest thing to eat after such an epic run, but fuck it. I’m starving now that I think about it, and a slice of pizza?okay, maybe four slices?and a beer sounds amazing. I text her that I’m heading home, but need a shower first.
When I walk in the door, I find my roommates sprawled in the living room watching TV. I say, “Hi,” but they only give me small waves, entranced in their show, so I hop right in the shower. Once I’m finished, I head back into the living room and put myself between them and the TV.
“Ready?” I ask.
They all nod and get up from the couch.
“Where the hell have you been?” Lisa asks.
“Running.”
“I’ve been home since three-thirty and haven’t seen you,” says Jackie, grabbing her purse. “When did you leave?”
“Two.”
“Jesus,” Lisa says. “How are you still standing?”
I laugh. “I won’t be much longer if I don’t eat. Let’s go.”
The walk to When in Rome isn’t long. It’s only a couple of blocks from our house to the small, family-owned pizzeria, but after my three-hour tour, my legs are shot. Several times, my knees wobble, and my friends giggle about it.
“Serves you right for running that much,” says Hannah as she links her arm with mine to hold me up. “Why were you gone so long?”
“I needed to let off some steam.”
“Uh oh,” Lisa says. “I sense a story coming on.”
“First, I need a beer.”
We step into the restaurant, where an employee instructs us to seat ourselves, so we choose the corner booth. A server comes over, handing us each a water, and I suck mine down immediately. Before she takes my glass to refill, she hands us menus, but we really don’t need them. We know the selections by heart, and we always get the same thing; two large pizzas. One for me with cream cheese, garlic, and black olives, and one with cream cheese, Canadian bacon, and mushrooms.
After taking our beer orders, the server leaves us, and Lisa leans her elbows onto the table. “Okay, what’s with the triathlon?”
“It’s been a long week. Hell, it’s been a long semester dealing with Sam, but today everything kind of...” I flick my fingers together as I make an exploding noise.
“What happened?” Jackie asks.
With a sigh, I tell them everything. I start with the hike, making sure to mention how Sam insisted he was going to be honest in his report. I tell them about the midterm, the study group, and the internship. I even go back a bit to explain what happened with the bull to Jackie and Hannah. All of my friends listen with their mouths agape as I finish by telling them all the rotten things he said this afternoon.
“That dickhead.” Lisa smacks the table with her palm before waving our server over. “You need something stronger than a beer.”
I pull her arm down. “No, not here. Let’s go dancing.”
“Really? I thought you had tutoring tomorrow.”
“My morning client canceled so I don’t have anything until noon.”
Lisa’s face lights up. “Sweet. Yeah, let’s go dancing.”
The four of us bounce in our seats as our server returns with our beers and pizza.
Dancing does exactly what I need it to. It distracts me. Not only from my frustrating afternoon, but also from my aching legs. I’m surprised I can even move after my monumental run, but with the pizza fueling me, I’m good to go. I’ll probably regret it in the morning. Right now, though, I’m feeling loose after a few drinks and some of my favorite songs.
So loose, in fact, that when my friends want to keep dancing, I opt to sit at the table so I can catch the server to order more three-dollar shots.
I love ladies’ night.
My gaze tracks the server on her way toward me when she makes an abrupt turn back to the bar. “Shit,” I groan and drop my chin into my palm. I watch as she places empty glasses on the bar top before checking in with the only guy sitting at the bar, and my whole body tenses.
Sam.
Of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s everywhere I don’t want him.
Narrowing my eyes, I study him. He’s by himself. No friends around, no girls crowding him, just alone. And he looks grumpy. His posture is slouched as he languidly nurses a beer. I wonder what’s eating him? Probably that giant stick up his ass.
A sudden movement pulls my focus to the side, where I find a guy at a nearby table smiling at me. Before I can stop myself, I smile back. Idiot move, Brynn. The guy slides off his stool and heads my way, undoubtedly to ask me to dance.
Great. Now, I get to choose one of my many rejection lines. Part of me always feels bad, but it’s nothing personal. I don’t dance with anyone.
A traitorous flash of a memory reminds me I did dance with Sam.
My gaze flicks to him, our intimate two-step playing in my mind. A rebellious smile pulls at my lips as I think about the ambiance of the sunset, the look in his eyes, the warmth of his touch. The way my name sounded on his lips.
“Hey,” a gruff voice says, ripping me out of my reverie.
Shaking my head, I blink rapidly to find the guy from the next table standing in front of me. “Hey.”
“Mind if I sit down?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer before he slides out a stool.
“Um, sure.” I turn my head between him and the dance floor, hoping one of my friends is on their way back. I’m not that lucky.
“I’m Troy.”
He holds out his hand, so I shake it. “Brynn.”
“Nice,” he says, as a slimy smile inches across his face. “I saw you on the dance floor. Hot stuff out there.”
I give him a tight smile as I glance away. When I do, I see Sam now watching us from the bar. His posture is more rigid, like he’s on alert, and he’s gripping his beer pretty tight, but not drinking it. Odd.
“Looks like you need a refill,” Troy says, eyeing my empty glass as he waves down the server.
“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t need?”
“Don’t mention it.” He flashes me a confident smile before ordering two rum and Cokes.
Irritation bubbles inside me. I mean, I like rum and Coke, but he didn’t even ask what I wanted.
“So, Brynn, do you go to UNC?”
“Yep. It’s my last year as a chemistry major.”
“Chemistry? Cool.” His lackluster tone sounds anything but impressed. “I’m in Sports and Exercise Science with a minor in Business. I’m planning on opening my own gym one day.”
My eyes scan Troy’s muscular build. It’s not surprising he wants to open a gym.
As I continue to smile and nod through Troy’s talking, I don’t really listen much. I’m too intrigued by Sam’s body language. I chime in with a generic response here and there, making sure to make eye contact with Troy a few times, but I’m more focused on Sam.
His behavior is so strange. When I first noticed him at the bar, I didn’t even think he knew I was here. Now, I know he knows I’m here, and based on his facial expression, I’d say he’s not happy about it. Maybe he’s just as pissed about our blowout after class as I am. Maybe seeing my face just ruined his night.
Good. He deserves it.
“Here you go. Two rum and Cokes,” the server says.
As she moves to set our glasses down, Troy holds out his hands to take them from her. He slides mine to me, but doesn’t let go. When I reach for it, he brushes his fingers along mine before holding his glass up. “Cheers,” he says.
I clink my glass to his and take a sip.
“So, like I was saying...” Troy scoots his stool closer to me so that our knees bump, and I instinctively turn my body.
Troy’s not bad looking. He’s actually pretty cute, but it’s the way I always react when I’m being hit on. I’m guarded, what can I say? I think the only time I haven’t been in the last year was in July with Sam. Speaking of…
I glance at the bar to see Sam practically slam his bottle on the counter and signal the bartender for another. That’s a peculiar way to express frustration over me being here.
My mouth pops open when a thought strikes me.
What if he’s not angry that I’m here, but angry that I’m sitting with Troy? Could Sam be jealous?
No. That’s preposterous. Isn’t it? I guess it is possible he harbors some leftover feelings from July. We did have a fantastic night, but is that enough for him to be jealous? I have to test this.
As I turn my focus back to Troy, the dance beat fades to allow the soft melody of a slow song to rise. He holds out his hand. “Would you like to dance?”
With a quick glance at Sam, I take his hand. “Yes.”
We head to the dance floor, passing a confused Lisa, Jackie, and Hannah on our way. When we get to the middle, Troy pulls me to him. He grips my right hand, and places his other hand low on my hip, but I hold back to keep some space between us. Before I know it, Troy’s leading me around the dance floor.
Every time we turn, I sneakily glance at Sam, and every time I do, he’s watching us. The longer we dance, the harder he stares.
It’s interesting, and I want to delve deeper into possible reasoning for it, but I can’t concentrate with Troy stepping on my feet every two seconds. It takes all my self-control not to take the lead. Instead, I have to keep reminding myself to let Troy guide me, but it’s hard when his missteps put us off rhythm. When I try to correct our movements, he grips me tighter.
“You’re supposed to follow my lead,” he says, annoyance lacing his tone.
I want to retort with something snarky, letting him know I’m not follower material, but I bite my tongue. It would probably result in him ending our dance, and I wouldn’t be able to complete my observations of Sam.
He’s been watching us this whole time, and I’m wondering how far I can push this experiment.
Sliding my hand across Troy’s shoulder, I inch closer to him. I’d prefer to keep some distance between us, but as I move, Troy seizes an opportunity. He lowers his hand so his fingers graze the top of my butt as he closes the gap completely. With a smirk, he puts his cheek to mine and continues the dance.
I have to crane my neck to see around him, but I glimpse Sam jumping from his stool, and my heart jumps too.
This is it. I’ve done it. I’ve proven that he is in fact jealous, and now he’s on his way over here to cut in.
Will I let him? While I’d be grateful to be rid of Troy, I don’t know that I’d accept Sam’s offer. I might tell him to buzz off. That would teach him.
The slow song begins to fade out, and I’m counting the seconds until I hear Sam’s voice, but it never comes. Right as the song ends, I lift my head to see Sam heading toward the exit. Before he steps through the doorway, someone enters and bumps into him, pushing him back a step.
His gaze flicks to me briefly, and I watch his features crumble as his posture noticeably deflates. Then, he leaves, and my heart sinks. That certainly wasn’t the reaction I was going for.
“How about another dance?” Troy asks, pulling my focus back to him.
“What?”
“You sure don’t listen well, do you?” Troy rolls his eyes. “I asked if you want to dance again.”
“Oh. Um, no thanks.”
He nods as if he’s not terribly upset. “Well, can I get your number?”
I lick my lips, biting down on my bottom one, and shake my head. “I don’t really date.”
A sneer overtakes his face, but he shrugs. “Okay. You’re probably not worth my time, anyway,” he says, then storms off.
I don’t know why, but Troy’s cruel words hit me hard.
How does he know I’m not worth his time? I could be the best thing that ever happened to him, and he squandered it. Just like Connor. Just like Sam…
I frown as I slink back to my table, my gaze flicking toward the exit and, once again, a weight settles on my shoulders. My experiment didn’t go as I expected. Sure, I got Sam worked up, and it seemed like any second he was going to explode in a fit of jealousy, but then, he just left.
And did I imagine the hurt on his face?
I had to have made it up. If he felt that strongly about me, surely he would have stepped in between me and Troy. But obviously, that didn’t happen.
Sighing, I take a seat on my stool. Apparently, I’m not worth Sam’s time, either.