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He heard me. I know he did. His eyes lock with mine and, for a brief second
, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’m thinking so loudly it’s a scream in my mind.
I WANTED IT TO BE YOU! You said no. You rejected me. I wanted it to be you.
He holds out the check, and I reach for it. I can’t help it. I mutter, “I’m crazy.”
His blue gaze drops, and when he looks up again, he smiles. “I know. I like that about you.”
A frown shadows my lips. As it spreads his gaze fixates on my mouth and I know there are things he wants to say, but he can’t. Not here, not now. He clears his throat and nods. “Be careful ladies. There’s been a lot of shit going on. I’d hate to see something happen to either of you.”
Does he know I was drugged? He seems to be hinting at it. I didn’t tell anyone. I’d rather they thought I screwed Josh than that I was stupid enough to get roofied.
Emily snorts and acts tough. “They already tried to get me, and this one here—she saved my ass.” She throws her arm over my shoulder and tugs me close.
“Really?” Nate glances at me.
“Yeah. She was a great friend, and I was a bit of a jealous bitch. I’m really sorry, Kerry.” Her moment of sincerity is short-lived. “Now, let’s get shitfaced and find us a couple of fuckbuddies.”
I laugh nervously and wish I were dead. Out of all people to say that to, why’d it have to be him? Emily walks out the door and marches down the hall, assuming I’m right behind her. “Come on, freshman!”
I linger for a second, wanting to tell him things, but unable to find words.
Nate’s dark lashes lower as his gaze cuts to the side. His lips part once, then twice, before he says, “Goodnight.”
“Right.” What else can I say? I step toward the door at the same time he does so that we cross the threshold at the same time. We’re pushed close together in the narrow space, and I do everything possible to avoid touching him, but at the last moment, when I move to turn away, I catch his shoulder. Our arms collide and for a brief moment, I feel his fingers brush against mine.
I glance up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
I didn’t mean to start things with you that can’t be finished.
I didn’t mean to put you in a weird spot.
I didn’t mean to promise you friendship and have to hide it from everyone.
In that moment, I don’t know what he is to me, and I can’t hide my frustration much longer.
“Kerry,” he breathes my name as our fingers intertwine. But then he steps away, and it’s like it never happened.
“Come on, Kerry! Let’s haunt the bar!” Emily laughs as she spins around to look back at us. “That was punny, right?”
I smile and tuck my chin as I walk away from Nate. Regret is trying to strangle me, but some things just aren’t meant to be. Nate and I will never happen.
“Hilarious.” I turn back to Nate for the last time. I say, “Goodnight,” but it’s clearly goodbye.
He could stop me. He could say he’s interested and wants me for himself. But that doesn’t happen. Emily is dancing at the end of the hall and calling out for me to join her. As I rush away, I feel his eyes on my back.
Nate watches us disappear down the stairwell without another word.
CHAPTER 3
The haunted bar was built in 1886 and apparently the owner suffered a bit of misfortune—as did every successive owner of this particular establishment. Whether they were shot, drowned, lost to flu, dragged by a horse, on even took a header down the stairs—regardless of age, race or wealth, they all mysteriously expired.
Emily is laughing. “It’s as if the place were cursed. Sometimes the lights flicker, and they claim it’s Jeb, the guy that croaked tumbling down the steps over there.”
She points across the small room. We’re sitting at a highly polished wooden bar, on stools covered in leather matching the hides displayed on the walls. PETA would hate this place. The ceiling is punched copper with a rustic design. There are too many horns and antlers on the walls for my taste, but this is Texas. There are a few seating areas behind us, small tables with copper brads and thick couches with tufted leather backs and big, comfy-looking armrests. The lighting is dim, and the bulbs are the warm, flickering kind reminiscent of gas lamps with real flames.
We both stare at the steps. They’re smooth, long, and wide. I’m not feeling the danger. “Maybe he fell because it was dark and he haunts the place to keep the staircase safe and death-free.”
