Screw It Page 8

I’m at work, so I can’t lose my cool. I take in air slowly before making sure my faux smile is still cemented on my lips. “Okay then. Do you know what you want to drink?”

  He glances around the room, and I fight the urge to fidget as butterflies with tacks on their wings batter around in my stomach.

  “Seeing as you’re not busy, can you give me a sec?”

  “Nope,” I say, popping the P.

  His lips quirk, making my blood simmer. “All right, sweets.”

  I wince, and his eyes narrow on my face.

  “Thinking I need to find another name. Problem with that is, I like that endearment. When you’re not bitter and angry, you are sweet—sweet heart, sweet ass, sweet sense of humor, sweet demeanor. Sweet.”

  Every molecule in me tightens. “You did not just say that.”

  “I did ’cause it’s true.”

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and remind myself that I’m at work.

  Ten, nine, eight…

  I open my eyes. His soft and thoughtful expression isn’t helping.

  Seven, six, five…

  Counting isn’t helping, so I give it up for now. I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m working, and I’m not crazy busy, but I do have work to do. What do you want to drink?”

  His bourbon-colored eyes attached to his stubble-peppered face rake in my expression. I’m not sure what he sees, but I know what I feel. If he’s not careful with his next words, my brain is going to splatter everywhere from the building anger.

  “I see that I shouldn’t have given you the weekend.”

  My face scrunches. “What?”

  “Already made a mistake getting us back where we were.”

  Oh Christ. “Zach—”

  “Operation Daze and Wow.” His voice is almost distracted.

  I jerk my head back. “What?”

  “What time do you get outta here?”

  “What’s Operation Daze and Wow?”

  “Time, sweetheart?”

  His words are like a blade slicing my lungs, but I push through it. “Not your business.”

  “Eight, like Friday?”

  My eyebrows fly up. “How did you know I got off at eight on Friday?”

  “’Cause I saw you walk out.”

  “I thought you left.” I draw in air. “Actually, forget it. Are you ready to order?”

  “So, it’s eight tonight, too?”

  My control is slipping. “None of your business,” I grit out through my teeth.

  “Right. I’ll be here at eight to take you home.”

  Gritting my teeth, I restart my counting.

  Four, three, two…

  I throw a hand in the air. “I don’t need—”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “But—”

  “At eight.”

  “Stop interrupting me!” My voice is too loud. Breathing deeply, I take a second to gather my control before glancing around the room, and I notice my voice has drawn a few onlookers. Then, I give a reassuring smile to anyone’s eyes I catch.

  Zach leans back, that goddamn gorgeous mouth twitching. I forgot about this—the infuriating way he does what he wants without giving a shit about what I or anyone else wants.

  “You haven’t changed at all.”

  His deep laughter rumbles.

  I grind my teeth, and my eye twitches. “I don’t know what’s so fucking funny.” My voice is hard.

  “You are,” he says, still chuckling.

  “Christ.” Dropping my head forward, I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. “Nothing about this is funny.”

  After a few beats of silence, his voice has sobered when he says, “You’re right.”

  My head snaps up, and my heart lightens with hope. “What?”

  “Nothing about this is funny. If I had it straight back then, neither of us would be sitting here, feeling what we’re feeling.”

  My hope deflates.

  Damn.

  He continues, “But I was laughing because you said that I haven’t changed, but all we’ve done is argue. You can’t know if I’m the same man or not unless you actually talk to me.”

  “Did it occur to you that I don’t want to talk to you?”

  “Did it occur to you that you might like what I have to say?”

  “Okay. We’re done with this conversation. I have to get back to work.” My eyebrows pull together when he stands. “Are you ordering?”

  “Got shit to do. I’ll be here at eight.”

  I fight rolling my eyes, knowing the shit he has to do is probably a woman. “Don’t bother.”

  “Eight.” With that, he walks away.

  After he walks out the door, I find my boss and ask him if I can leave fifteen minutes early.

  Because Bertie, the seventy-year-old owner is the shit, he says, “No problem, girl.”

  So, a quarter to eight, I grab my shirt that I plan to change into at Hole, and I leave the back room. When I hit the seating area, Zach is standing by the door.

  Damn. Plan foiled.

  Stomping to Zach and then past him, I push through the door and start walking down the sidewalk. His long legs make short work of the distance I put between us.

  “How’s work?”

  “Wonderful,” I say with heavy sarcasm.

  “Do you work a lot, like back in the day?”

  Back in the day.

  The reminder of the former us stings. “Can you stop talking?”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “No, it’s a shut-up.”

  “Right,” he mutters. “Got you something.”

  I pick up my pace. “Keep it.”

  “Here.” He shoves a package of ramen noodles in my face.

  I stop and stare at it. Then, I move my gawk to Zach with my eyes narrowed. “You thought you could win me over with an eighty-cents bag of noodles?”

  His lips twitch. “No.”

  “Then, why—”

  “Thought I’d make a little chip in that armor by showing I remember you eating them when you were grumpy or on the rag. They seemed like your comfort food of choice. I figure, if I make enough chips, you might look through that hole and see that I’m not the same man you knew six years ago.”

  The longer he talks, the wider my eyes grow and the farther my jaw drops. I can’t believe he noticed, let alone remembered six goddamn years later. Shit, I didn’t even remember. I haven’t eaten ramen noodles in ages since they’re chock-full of calories.

  But his chip strikes deep, just like he intended.

  My control is already so tattered that him making the chip lights a fire in me that’s fueled with gasoline. “I don’t eat them anymore, and even if I did, I wouldn’t take them from you, so you can shove this”—I snatch the package from his hand and wave it in front of his face—“and your fucking memories up your ass.”

  He draws in a breath through his nose, and from the press of his lips and the hardness of his jaw, I know he’s pissed and hurt. I tell myself that he deserves it, but the acid in my gut says that I went over the line. My burst of anger cools, and my face loses its tightness.

  “Look on your face tells me you know that was not right. I’m making an effort here, and I know I hurt you, but don’t turn ugly in order to hurt me back. You’re a better woman than that.”

  The acid makes an ulcer. I don’t answer because we both know he’s right, but he won’t get a sorry from me. No fucking way.

  “Right. Now, that’s that. I’ll tell you, I’ll eat the shit you’re gonna give me as long as it’s the shit I’ve earned. Give me the time, and I’ll fill you in on where my head was at and where it is now. I’ll explain the change. Do you get me?”

  I look at the ground. “If by get you, you mean, I understand the meaning of your words, then yes. If you’re asking if we’re on the same page”—my face tightens again, and I tilt my head back to look at him—“then no. That bridge burned to the ground.”

  “We can build a new bridge.”

 
; “We can’t.”

  “Becca—”

  Shaking my head, I take a step back. “I don’t want to do this. I just want to move on.”

  “We can try again.”

  Raising my hand to halt his bullshit words before letting it fall back to my side, I pull in a breath. “You’re not a woman, and since I’m a huge bitch and maybe—just maybe—I’ll get through to you, I’ll do you a solid and explain it to you.”

  His face slackens, showing apprehension.

  “I gave you my virginity.”

  His eyes narrow slightly, exposing his flinch. “I know.”

  I take a deep breath, and despite my trembling lip, I keep my voice firm as I say, “I gave you that gift, Zach. That’s one of the most important gifts a woman can give. The man can be a douche or the love of her life, but that man will always stay with her, and so will the feelings afterward. When I gave you that gift, I loved you.”

  His head jerks like he’s been slapped.

  “You know I did because I told you, and you also gave me the indication that you were getting there, too.”

  “I—”

  My chest heaves, and my eyes tingle. “I gave you that gift. I loved you. I took off work to spend time with you. I spent money I was saving, so I could look nice and cook you good food.”

  “Swee—”

  “I know you didn’t ask that of me, but you also know that me taking time off and spending money shows just how deep that love ran. When we met, I told you that I didn’t have time to date. I gave you the cliff notes on why, but you still got in there. I let you because it seemed like, after a lifetime of being alone, I was going to have someone to have my back, to catch me when I had a bad day and to laugh with when I had a good one.”

  “Babe—” His voice is hoarse, his face losing color.

  “But you didn’t have my back. You weren’t getting there, too. You didn’t treasure my gift. You”—I jab my finger at him—“were fucking other women.”

  “I—”

  A tear rolls down my cheek, but my voice stays steady and hard as I continue, “I know we never said we were exclusive, but we—both of us—acted like it for four months. Everything you said and everything you did—every action, every time we had sex, everything—screamed that we were building something real. I was young and naive, and I had no idea that we had to say we were exclusive. Even if I did know, I know now that it was very much implied. You should have told me that you were seeing other people. But you didn’t, and when I found out, I deserved an explanation, a reason, something. I wasn’t worth the trouble though. For four months, I was nothing but ass to you when you were everything to me. That’s the feeling you—the man who I gave my gift to—left me with. So, when I say that bridge was burned, I mean it was incinerated.”

  I hold her eyes as the depth of the pain I handed her six years ago shines in her stare. She’s trying to hide behind her anger, but her shield might as well be plastic wrap. Another tear falls down her cheek, and I feel it in my chest.

  Fuck.

  Not much good I can take from the picture she drew of us, but I’ll take the few things I can get. The first is, she felt that deep for me. The second is, she doesn’t have all the facts straight. The third is, she gave me a piece of the pain that I’m beginning to see runs deep—at least the piece I’d given her. As much as that hurt like a bitch to hear, at least I know what I’m working with.

  “That’s not how it was.” My tone is soft and low.

  Her watery eyes roll sky-high, and when she’s finished rolling them, they’re looking off to the side.

  “Sweets, look at me.”

  She does, but with the set of her jaw, I know what I’m gonna say will not penetrate.

  “That’s not how it was.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “I need to get to work.”

  “Right. I know that, but I also know that you don’t have all your facts straight. A lot of what you said needs to be sorted and expanded on.”

  “Zach, please, look at me.”

  “My eyes are on you, sweets.”

  She flinches, and that hits me in the chest because I did that to her.

  “No, look at me. I’m not going there with you. I’m telling you, don’t. For once in your goddamn life, listen to me. It’s not gonna happen. I already have a stalker, and I don’t need another.”

  My muscles lock tight. “Stalker?”

  Her eyes widen, and she clamps her mouth shut.

  “You have a stalker?” My tone is vibrating, angry.

  “Uh—”

  “The guy at the bar?”

  She tilts forward, uncrosses her arms, and raises her hands, palms up. “Zach, I have it under—”

  “He’s been coming in over the weekend?”

  She puts a hand on her hip. “Did you listen to one thing I said?”

  I have the urge to kiss her quiet, but I’m so pissed about this jackass giving her shit. “Right. Let’s get you to work.”

  “Did you hear me?” Her tone turns screechy, but shit, only on her is it cute.

  “I heard you, but like I said, we got shit to sort. After we do that, if you’re still not feeling me, we’ll either go from there, or we won’t. I’m not giving you up when shit between us isn’t sorted.”

  “You don’t have me to give up.”

  “Difference of opinion there, sweetheart.” Until that moment, I didn’t realize that was how I felt.

  She’s mine. She was back then and is now. I was too stupid to see it before, but I won’t make that mistake again.

  Her eyes warm for a millisecond before they turn hard. “You’re worse than Brian.”

  “Don’t be that woman. I know I hurt you, but don’t lash back. It’s ugly, and you are not an ugly person.”

  Her jaw sets, and I know I made my point. I fucked her over. I get that, and I’ll own that, but that doesn’t mean I won’t call her out when she’s acting like a bitch.

  Her body goes ramrod straight. “Okay, fine.”

  I shake my head. “There’s a lot you’re saying fine to, so I’m gonna need you to be more specific. We’ve got a bumpy road ahead of us, and we need to communicate.”

  Her tense eyes narrow into slits. “Okay, fine, I need to get to work, so let’s get me there.”

  I fight my smirk, but she clocks it, narrows her eyes, and then rolls them. My lips turn up into a full-blown grin. She stomps away, and my smile deepens.

  It takes me two strides to catch up with her, and my grin fades. “Think I need some intel.”

  She looks at me, but her gait doesn’t change. “What?”

  “The guy. He said he was fucking you the other night, so I need to know what the fuck is going on there.” It takes effort to keep my voice even, but I manage.

  On her part, she stops. She shuts down. Her face is smooth, and her body is tense. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Babe, again, it is.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Babe?”

  Getting annoyed, I clench my jaw. “Babe, honey, sweets, sweetheart—it all means the same fucking thing.”

  “You never called me babe before.”

  “Right, I see you’re avoiding the subject, but, babe, gotta know what I got my hands on here.”

  She seems to weigh her options while looking anywhere but me. After a few seconds, she draws in a breath. “I got it handled.”

  “Becca—”

  “I said, I got it.”

  “You defining him as a stalker tells me that you don’t got it.”

  She throws her hands in the air. “I don’t have time for this shit. I need to get to work.” Pounding the pavement with her feet, she stalks away.

  I let her get a few steps ahead. I’m thinking this push-and-pull thing isn’t so cute anymore. It’s fucking frustrating.

  In three long strides, I’m at her side. “Tell me about that guy.”

  “No.”

  Jesus.

  “I can’t help you if you don�
�t tell me.”

  She keeps her feet moving, but she twists her head. Scanning my face, which I’m sure is set to stubborn, her eyes turn funny. Her chest moves when she pulls in air, and she glances away.

  When her eyes are forward, she starts talking, “I have arrangements.”

  My forehead creases. “You gonna expand on that?”

  She sighs and makes it audible. “If I meet someone that I’m attracted to, we get tested. If we’re clean, I let him walk me home. We fuck. He leaves. End of story. Brian—”

  The pain in my chest burns, searing through my muscles. “Stop talking.”

  She snaps her head toward me, her forehead creased. “What?”

  “Stop talking.” My words are clipped.

  She throws her hands in the air. “Fuck you, Zach. Seriously? You’re judging me? Christ.”

  “Not judging you, sweets. Just don’t like thinking of another man’s hands on you and you living that way. No wonder you’re so alone.”

  Fortunate timing for me, we’ve reached Hole. So, when her eyes shoot to mine, she keeps her reaction in check. But judging by the gold in her eyes, she’s livid. Normally, her being pissed is cute and sweet, reminding me of all the makeup sex we had. Right now, I’m thinking on how to work her shit out, both with me and that guy, so I don’t have room to think about sinking into her.

  “Right. Get that you’re pissed, but we’re at your work. Go in, and do your thing. That guy shows, I’ll take care of him. I’ll walk you home. If you got it in you, we’ll talk. If not, we’ll find another time.”

  She opens her mouth, her eyes blazing gold, and then she snaps it shut. Her eyes dart from side to side and then lift to mine. Opening her mouth again, the fire in her eyes cools, but that funny look slides through them again. She says, “Whatever,” and she pushes through the door.

  Her reaction, cute as it is, cools the burn. Chuckling, I move to follow her, but my cell rings. When I pull it out, the screen displays Matt’s name.

  “Yo.”

  “You check in with that restaurant?”

  “Yeah, went by earlier tonight. Waitress remembers them. Said they looked like a cute older couple. Said the guy looked to be in his fifties with gray hair and probably on the taller side, six foot or maybe less. Couldn’t tell ’cause he was sitting down. That’s all she remembers.”

  Matt sighs in the phone. “This shit is tangled.”