Chapter 30 Dean
THIRTY
DEAN
I’m busy wiping down the counter from where I just picked up a customer’s empty plate after they left, leaving me with basically no tip, when the door dings.
I toss the rag back into the sink behind me and prepare to take another order. Regan is sitting in front of me, and butterflies erupt in my stomach at the sight of her. The frown that’s currently on her face says that she’s not here for pleasure.
“Regan, I’m excited you’re here.”
“Regan. I’m excited you’re here. What’s wrong?”
I’ve been texting her since she took something I said wrong, and after rereading the message, I can see how she would take it the way that she did. I’ve tried to get her to talk to me, but she’s been icing me out.
She picks at her nails. She only fidgets when she’s nervous. Shit, this isn’t good. But at least she’s finally talking to me. I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed our conversations until they weren’t there. Until she wasn’t there. What does that say about us? About what this could become for us?
“Dean, we need to talk.” Oh, god, the worst phrase anyone could hear from someone that they’ve come to care for.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to go to the gala together, or continue sleeping together,” she says, her hazel eyes serious. I walk around to her side of the counter and sit on the stool next to her.
“As I said in my texts, I’m sorry about what I said. It was careless and I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I really want to go to the gala with you,” I confess, reaching to take her hand, but she pulls away from me before I can reach her.
“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have agreed to it. We can’t show up to an event like that together. We are on opposite sides and shall remain as such.”
I’m in shock, but anger takes over, burning deep in my belly, singing the wings of the butterflies that once resided there. “What are you afraid of, Regan?” I snap, my tone sharp.
“I’m not afraid,” she protests. “It’s a bad idea to continue doing whatever it is we’re doing.”
“You didn’t think so back in Richmond. You seemed like you were pretty into it then,” I say, rage boiling over.
“That shouldn’t have happened. We shouldn’t happen.”
“Fine. Rivals only, then,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest.
“Fine,” she agrees, sliding off the stool and storming out of the diner.
What the fuck just happened?
Me
I’m coming over
Actually I’m in your driveway. Let me in
Chase
Ok, ok. The door is open
I walk inside Chase's place. The last time I was here was at his party after he won the Charlotte race, and I’d almost kissed Regan. I smile briefly at the memory, and then I remember why I’m here in the first place.
My head is so screwed up. I’ve been in a downward spiral since she left The Meadows Diner earlier today.
I’m still angry that she just came in swinging and dropped me like a hot potato, but can I blame her?
That text was ominous, and I did suggest that all I wanted was sex from her.
She just wouldn’t fucking listen and my anger took over, letting her leave without me giving her a better explanation.
That I want more from her, that she’s not just a grid girl or whatever she thinks this is.
Chase is playing Call of Duty on the couch in the living room when I walk in. I sit next to him on the worn green couch as he’s still in the middle of a game. He glances over at me and back to the game before telling his team that he needs to leave, and turns off the game and removes his headset.
“Bro, why does it look like someone pissed in your Cheerios?”
“More like someone kicked me in the balls over and over again,” I reply.
“This sounds like it may need alcohol.” Chase leaves and pads into his kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He sits back down and pours some for both of us.
“Is anyone else here?” I ask. I don’t want his roommates to hear what I’m about to say.
“No. It’s just me. Everyone else is out.” I ignore the fact that Chase is here alone instead of out with his roommates like usual.
“Good. Because what I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell a fucking soul.”
“I promise I won’t tell a soul. But you’re freaking me out a little bit.”
I take my whiskey and down it, pour another, and down it before speaking again. I haven’t said this out loud yet, and saying it now is harder than I thought.
“Brady and I hooked up at Richmond.” I wait for Chase’s reaction, but he gives me none. “I asked her to the gala, she said yes, then she misunderstood a text I sent, and now doesn’t want to go with me or see me at all. I don’t know what to do now.”
He thinks for a moment, taking in the information I’ve just word-vomited at him. “What exactly did the text say?”
I hand him my phone so that he can read it himself.
“Oof. So, she thinks all you want is a hookup, and she wants more. Am I on the right track?”
I nod.
“What do you want?”
Isn’t that the million dollar question. I’d love to keep sleeping together, but I just want to be with her in general. Being around her makes me feel so open and free. I’ve never felt so seen by someone before.
“I don’t know what I want. When she told me she didn’t want to go to the gala anymore, I kind of snapped at her. I’ll be surprised if she ever talks to me ever again, even just to taunt me like before.”
Chase scrubs the small amount of red stubble on his chin. “Can I be honest with you, Dean?” he asks.
I pour myself another shot and take it before I nod.
“Sounds like you need to figure your shit out first.” He takes another shot. “You need to show her you’re different. That you want more. If that’s what you decide you want.”
I let his words linger. Is that what I want? To show her that I can be more than the playboy persona that I’ve put out for so long?
“How should I show her, then?”
“First, get a haircut before the gala.” I punch him in the shoulder.
“I’m serious,” I say.
“Ow!” he exclaims, rubbing his arm. “Be there for her. Be a gentleman at that gala. Prove to her that you are here for her.”
“Sounds like you have some experience with this,” I regard. He gives me a look, and I raise my brow. He sighs and leans back into the worn cushions of the couch.
“I take it you know?”
“Only that it seems like you and Leslie have been hooking up and keeping it a secret. What’s happening with that?”
He huffs. “I thought you were here for me to help you, not the other way around.”
“That’s not how this friendship works, man. Spill.”
He pours and takes a shot, and I do the same.
“We hooked up earlier this year, drunk at a party,” he begins. “We just kept hooking up, it was supposed to be a friends with benefits thing. Now,” he releases a sigh, “I don’t know what we are. It’s all so fucking complicated.”
“Here, here,” I agree, clinking and downing our shots together.