Chapter 3 Koren #2
In these fantasies, I’d flip my hair over my shoulder, the sun hitting my long strands so they literally gleamed, as I walked past him. His jaw would drop. Too distracted by his pining, he’d almost get hit by a bus. Or maybe he does get taken out by a bus? That could work too.
Sigh.
I don’t want him to die, but not a single one of my revenge daydreams involved him gracing the cover of a sports magazine, abs on display.
That was painful enough to see in the supermarket last fall.
And I certainly never planned on seeing his sun-streaked hair and sparkling blue eyes across a crowded room again.
Gulping, I drag my gaze away from the table where he’s sitting with the other groomsmen and stride to an open chair in the corner. Seating chart or no seating chart, if Kaci wants to live, she’ll mind her business and let me sit by myself in this extra chair.
Kaci immediately spots me, waltzes over, and forcefully squeezes my shoulder as she leans in to whisper, “So, on a scale of one to ten, how are you feeling?”
“Let’s just say, if I had a few extra minutes to plan, I’d have faked my own death.” I hiss back.
“It’s not that bad,” she whispers, eyes locked on her fiancé, Jackson, as he strides into the room. They are disgustingly cute, always making little lovey faces at each other. I’m so insanely happy for her.
I am.
Insane.
Just insane for being here.
The last thing I need is to draw more attention to myself. I certainly don’t need Elijah thinking I’m upset. I remove her hand from my shoulder and mutter, “I’m fine. Start this dinner thingy so I can get it over with.”
“If everyone can be seated, I’d love to make a toast.” Axl, one of Jackson’s teammates, announces, raising his glass. Everyone follows suit. Since I’m still in the corner chair where I put myself in time out, I don’t have a glass in front of me. I cross my arms, content to sit this one out.
Nobody speaks.
Every single head turns in my direction.
“Koren,” Axl asks, “would you like to sit at the actual table? There’s a seat and a glass here for you.”
“Of course there is,” I grumble in a gritty voice. I jump up, realizing they all heard me. I cover my mouth with a fist, pretend to clear my throat, and force a sweet tone. “Of course, I would love to.”
I drag my heels in my walk of shame straight to the only open seat. How convenient. It’s right next to my sister. And, oh lovely, Elijah. I roll my eyes. My plan to sit in the corner failed.
Death by DIY.
That’s what I should have done.
I’m not sure what I could have rigged up, but it’s the most believable. It could have been so simple, so clean. An accidental fall leaves practically no mess. Well, except for the body. Scratch that. Drowning is better. No body required. Perfect. Yeah, that’s totally the way to go.
I will remember that for next time.
Crossing my arms again, I sink into the chair, staring straight ahead as the heat of everyone’s gaze reminds me to grab my glass. I lift the champagne flute in front of me. Finally, Axl begins.
“All right, everyone, I'll keep this short. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Axl.
I’ve had the honor of being Jackson’s teammate.
What you need to know about him is that he was always a bit of grump until he met Kaci.
From the day he met her, it was clear to all of us, he was a goner.
Kaci, I don’t know what you did to him, but you made this guy a better man.
I couldn’t be happier for you both. Let’s raise a glass to love, teammates, and finding your forever person.
Instead of ‘cheers,’ let’s click to love! ”
How cringe.
One of my arms is still crossed smugly over my chest. I avoid all eye contact while people clink my glass and say, “To love.” I’m about to set my glass down, when Elijah lifts his toward me and pauses.
He actually expects me to clink to love?
Ahem! The audacity.
When I don’t meet his glass, he says softly, “Koren.”
Smirking, he waves his glass toward me, looking finer than a Calvin Klein supermodel.
I’m supposed to be okay with saying that word to him?
To the man I almost said marriage vows to?
My stomach drops to a whole new level of low, and my throat tightens.
I don’t remember what planet I’m even on anymore. “Er,” I manage to squeak out.
I execute the slowest side-eye in history.
One of my brows hikes north, and I glare.
Everyone’s now waiting for me to make the final clink. The irony isn’t lost on me. I think I toasted to love with him before. Yep, pretty sure we said that word to each other many times. That didn’t end so well. I’ll never do it again.
My gaze drifts to the door. It’s a straight line from here. I could run for it. Cover my mouth and heave like I’m about to barf. People believe that act all the time.
“Koren,” he calls my name softly again, and I make the mistake of looking up—and see that slow, cocky grin. The one I most recently saw on the front page of a sports magazine.
Before I can stop myself, my heart does something uncalled for. It should be illegal, but there it is—a tiny flutter, like muscle memory kicking in. My heart beats a treasonous pattern.
Just for a breath, his eyes sparkle the way they used to at me. Everyone else in the room fades.
“Lauren,” he calls, gaze steady.
Ah, that’s not my name.
I blink, following his line of sight over my shoulder. A tall, stunning woman is floating toward us. Yes, floating is the correct verb. The air is transporting her effortlessly. She doesn’t stop until she’s next to Elijah.
“This is awkward,” Elijah says, bouncing his gaze from her to me. “I was trying to tell Koren she took your seat. I saved it for you, but she wouldn’t look at me.”
My heart plummets into a freefall with no parachute.
It all makes sense.
He brought a date.
And just like that, I’ve been transported to a distant memory…
When I was ten years old, I threw a hairbrush at his head on purpose.
It was the summer my grandma hired him to mow our little lawn on the lake house, and he mowed right over my lavender.
It was always my favorite flower. My grandma had a whole garden of it, and he just sawed it all off.
I didn’t think I’d ever be madder at him than I was that summer.
Boy, was I wrong. So many nights I bawled over him—what we were, what we could have been.
All the embarrassment comes swirling back.
Lauren leans over, whispering something in his ear. He laughs and places a hand on her lower back. I blink, watching his hand move in slow motion all the way across her back, drawing her to his side. Claiming her. The way he used to claim me.
My self-esteem just peed a little.
I didn’t even know that was a thing!
With a sharp inhale, I manage to miraculously shove the fragmented pieces of my pride deep into my gut. I smile, a big, fat, showbiz whopper of a grin, square my shoulders, and waltz out of the room as if I hadn’t relived the hormonal highs and lows of our entire relationship in two minutes.
Don’t cry, I order to myself as I stride down the hall.
What I wouldn’t give for a hairbrush right now.
“I hate him,” I seethe over the bathroom sink, crying like one of those dramatic girls who just fought with their boyfriends at prom. I’m not that girl. I’m not the girl who cries over her ex who’s clearly moved on—many, many times, according to social media.
“No offense, but I don’t think these tears are hate,” Kaci says, quirking her head to the side, in what I assume is an attempt at empathy. I don’t care that she cares. She’s the one who put me in this position.
“Why don’t you feel them?” I dramatically swipe my eyes for theatrics. “They’re like one hundred eighty degrees of pure fury.”
“Fury doesn’t have a temperature. That might be a fever.”
I crank the faucet to its coldest setting and let water flow into my hands.
I’m so enraged, I’m not even fazed when I splash it all over my face.
Yes, it’s extreme to ruin the perfectly good makeup I spent forever on, but it’s either freeze this fury off or scream, “I hate Elijah Jonas” at the top of my lungs.
And I’ve already ruined this dinner enough.
Kaci seems lost. She raises her hand, places it on my back, then removes it a moment later to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. “Are you going to be okay?”
“No.” It’s the quickest word to ever fly out of my mouth.
“My ex-fiancé is here, and he brought a model as a date. Why didn’t I know we were bringing dates?
” I glare at her, visualizing the dream date I could have brought.
No, I’m not seeing anyone, but there are definitely fate-dates for situations like this.
I’ve read about them in romance novels, and they are always beyond dreamy.
“Oh, right,” she murmurs as she looks at the floor.
“Now isn’t the best time to mention this, but since we’re running out of time—well, all the groomsmen are married or engaged already.
So, they’re paired with their wives. And, um, well, you two are the only singles.
So, yeah, I know you stated very loudly this morning that you didn’t want to walk down the aisle with him, but …
you’re aisle partners. Then you’ll never have to see him again,” she blurts out that last part so fast, I choke.
And by choke, I mean I actually gag. My body revolts. Dramatically. And I bend at my waist, dry heaving around the bathroom like I’ve been poisoned and can’t figure out which way the toilet is.
Kaci has the audacity to laugh.
“How are you laughing?” I gasp. “I’m being poisoned to death by Eljah’s mere presence, and you giggle?”
“It’s not funny, but you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.
” Her lips press into a straight line, her tone suddenly serious.
“You say you hate him, but you clearly don’t.
I think you’ve just used hate to disguise your true feelings.
You’re still so madly in love with him. Maybe this is what you need—some time together.
You two never really had closure—” Her eyes widen as she stares behind me.
Light shifts as the door opens. The vibe instantly changes as my body feels a magnetic tug. The awareness of being observed. I whip my head around.
Elijah’s perfect face peeks through the crack in the woman’s bathroom. When he sees us, he covers his eyes and blurts, “Koren, I’m not looking at you. I was just looking for you.”
His voice.
Smooth.
It’s always had the power to undo me—the way he says my name sends my central nervous system into a spiral.
One person shouldn’t be able to affect someone this much.
I don’t even know how he has this power over me, but it’s always been this way, ever since the first time I saw him.
He hopped the fence to introduce himself and asked if I wanted to skip rocks into the water.
I just stared. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful.
Even in middle school, his confident swagger put me in a chokehold.
That wasn’t the worst of it. What really undid me were the gentle glances when no one else was around. He wasn’t cocky when it was just us.
My head snaps back as I shake off the flashback, remembering that his easy presence is invading my private space—in the women’s bathroom!
“Koren.” There it is again, that smooth way he practically hums my name.
It’s like poetry.
Dangerous poetry that has the power to make me ache.
“Elijah.” I say like I’m challenging him to explain his existence.
“Ah.” He’s still covering his eyes, but I know all his looks even with his eyes covered. I know he’s wearing a look of pure confusion that knits his brows together. “I know Kaci’s with you, but I was worried you got sick and might go into one of your fainting spells again. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I mean for it to sound forceful so he gets the hint and walks away. But the fact he referenced my fainting disorder—like he actually cares an inkling about me—makes my breath shallow and my words sound transparent.
Silence stretches. The kind of silence where my mind fills with all the things I never said to him. I wonder if the same thing is happening to him, if he has unsaid things too. I mean, things ended so abruptly.
Kaci finally unfreezes, speaking to him for the first time. “I’m here with her, and she’ll be fine. But thanks for checking.”
“Okay.” He starts backing out, hands still over his eyes before he pauses and says, “It’s good to see you again. I just heard we’re aisle buddies …” His voice drifts off, then returns stronger with a hint of forced humor. “Guess we finally get to walk down the aisle together.”
My cheeks blaze. Inferno-level fire fills my gut.
I could totally stab him for looking so hot and saying something like that.
Or marry him.
Or vomit—because there’s no way I can let myself fall for him again. There aren’t enough drops of water in the ocean to fuel the tears I’d need to get over him twice.
“Don’t even try to flirt with me,” I spit out.
Chuckling, he backs out of the doorway. My blood boils to new temperatures as I make a mental note to pack a hairbrush for the wedding.
One with extra-pointy teeth.