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57
Aiden
I don’t know how long Sam and I have been talking, but even though she hasn’t said anything outright, I’m starting to get the feeling that she’d be open to getting to know each other again.
Or maybe she’s just naturally a flirt without meaning to be.
Either way, I notice when her hand touches my arm, her freshly manicured nails looking out of place against my tattoo. Moving my arm out of her reach, I run a hand through my hair and say, “I should get back.”
Her face falls slightly, but I try not to read into it. She was probably hoping I’d invite her back with me.
But, like I said, I’m not reading into it.
“Oh, okay,” she says quietly. “Will I see you before you leave?”
“I don’t think so.” It doesn’t take me long to answer, and she nods in a sort of resignation. She knows it’s done between us. There’s no going back—there can’t be. We had a good time together, and I loved her—god, did I fucking love her—but that part of my life is in the past, and that’s where it’ll stay.
“Well, if you change your mind—”
With a shake of my head, I cut her off. “Sam, I won’t.”
She nods, finally taking the hint. “It was good seeing you,” she offers with a small smile.
“You too.” It comes out sounding like a goodbye, but I’m surprised that I mean it. Seeing her wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be, and there’s a sort of liberation that comes with that.
She goes back to her table, and I look up at mine to see Claire sitting with everyone.
Shit.
She’s animated as she talks to Em about who knows what, and my heart swells at the sight of her. I love seeing her like this—all tanned and glowing. She looks happy, and she looks like she’s having fun.
Locking eyes with Ethan, I mouth “How long has she been here?”
He mouths back, “A while,” and he might as well have slapped me with the look he gives me.
Claire catches him and turns her head my way. When our eyes meet, I get the sinking feeling that I’ve disappointed her. She still smiles at me, but she doesn’t look as animated and carefree as she did a moment ago, and knowing I’m the cause of it makes me feel guilty as shit.
Once I get to the table, I don’t bother taking a seat. “Hey, when did you get here?”
Claire looks up at me, and her face reveals nothing. “A little bit ago.” She takes a sip of her drink and there’s another empty glass next to her.
She’s already on her second drink.
I’m an asshole.
“You should have texted me. I had no idea.”
Placing her glass down, Claire gives a small shrug of her shoulders. “I did.”
“You wha—” I pull my phone out of my pocket to check.
I’m an asshole.
Clear as day there’s a message from her telling me she’s about to leave and asking if we’re still here.
She sent it almost an hour ago.
I can’t believe she texted me an hour ago. What the hell is wrong with me?
