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I think I’ve rendered her speechless because she’s staring at me with those big brown eyes like she’s trying to decide if she should slap me. Not that I would blame her if she did. I consider backpedaling my last sentence, but before I can, she hops down from the barstool and rummages through her purse.
“Where are you going?” I ask, thrown off by how abruptly she got up.
“I’m going to Florida,” she snaps as she puts money down on the bar. “I’m going to enjoy the beach, and the sun, and I’m not going to let someone like you convince me not to.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Someone like me?”
“Yeah,” she says as she struggles to close her tiny bag. “You, with your hair, and muscles, and tattoos.” She waves an accusatory finger in front of me as the words tumble from her lips.
“My hair?”
“This was great. Really great. I’m glad we could catch up,” she says, dismissing me completely.
Then she storms out of the bar as quickly as she came into it.
What the actual fuck just happened? I stare after her, but the girl in the flowery green dress is already gone. The door swings shut behind her, and I’m back to drinking alone with Jasmine. There’s no way Claire is starting a trip to Florida tonight. More importantly, why the hell do I care? She’s a grown-ass adult. If she wants to make stupid choices that get her killed, that’s her business.
I look at the TV again, but I barely register what’s on the screen. My imagination plays out coverage of a homicide involving a local girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time—like a train to fucking Florida in the middle of the goddamn night.
My foot bounces against the bottom peg of the stool as I try to forget all thoughts of Claire Ackerman. I look back at the door again, hoping she’ll realize how crazy she’s being and walk back in here any second.
She doesn’t.
Don’t do it.
Don’t you dare chase after that girl.
I grit my teeth, hating the fact that I’m even having to talk myself out of this.
Mind your own damn business, Aiden.
The thoughts are still reeling as I put cash on the counter and head out into the cool night air.
6
Claire
I don’t know what just came over me. My head leans against the brick wall outside the bar as I stare up at the night sky. I probably look like I’m on the verge of a breakdown, but I don’t have anything left in me to care, and a breakdown doesn’t feel far from the truth anyway.
It’s strange how quickly your life can change. This morning I was happy. I had an amazing boyfriend—or so I thought. I submitted my paper early and could surprise said boyfriend with a visit. The sundress he always loved happened to be clean. I was even having a good hair day. All the pieces fell perfectly into place.
Until they fell imperfectly apart.
The look on his face when I walked into the apartment still burns in my mind. I didn’t even catch them doing anything. I think that’s the worst part. I would expect him to look that guilty if I walked in on him having sex with her, but all I did was walk in on them watching a movie together, and he still looked that guilty.
It would be one thing if it was an unfortunate one-night stand or a fleeting lapse in judgment, but they looked so comfortable together. It was like they were the ones dating, and I was the random girl who didn’t belong.
I always thought of Shelly as one of those girls who had peaked in high school. Her cheer uniform used to be her staple, but I guess she’s traded it in for an I’ll sleep with your boyfriend card.
As much as I hate to say it, she’s still pretty. And since Garret lived with his mom as a kid, he didn’t go to school here and have the pleasure of meeting Shelly back then. She must have looked like a shiny new toy to him.
I wish I had reacted quicker. People in movies always throw things at their cheating boyfriend, but I didn’t throw anything at Garret.
Even the thought of his name weighs heavily on my chest, and I instantly regret thinking it.
No, I didn’t throw anything at him.
Instead, what did I do?
