Logically, I realize she’s trying to be polite, but the possessive part of my brain is growling.Why doesn’t she just tell him she has no interest in him?Unless… maybe she does?And she’s just uncomfortable because I’m here?
Frat Boy smiles as he shakes his head, his smug face glowing.“Same old Chloe.Likes to keep me wrapped around her finger.”He pushes his tongue into the side of his mouth.“Not as much as I like her wrapped around mine,” he adds under his breath, so that only I can hear.
Every muscle in my body locks up.That’s it.I’ve had enough of this fucking idiot.
But it’s not my place to start something in Chloe’s favorite bar.
I have to leave—right now—before I put my fist through his face and ruin her Fourth of July hookups for the foreseeable future.
I fish out my wallet, grab a twenty, and set it on the bar for Lola.When I glance up, Chloe’s eyes lock with mine.“You deserve better,” is all I say as I slip off my stool, ignoring the dickhead beside me.
As I step outside, the salty air hits me, and I take a long, slow breath.
The neon lights of the Sand Dollar flicker behind me as I head down the beach, every heavy step taking me further away from Chloe.
And closer to a life without her.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
CHLOE
Walkinginto the Sand Dollar to find Steve talking to Ethan wasnoton my list of things I wanted to do tonight.The plan was to get here, order copious amounts of alcohol, and drown my sorrows until they didn’t feel as dark and gloomy.
Now it looks like I’ll be facing them head-on.
Ethan is strolling out the door, so it would make sense to spend the evening reconnecting with Steve.
Safe, reliable, Steve.
With him, things are simple.I know what he wants and neither of us gets caught up in our feelings, like the way a summer fling is supposed to go.
But with Ethan…
When I glance at the swinging door, the feelings I swore I wouldn’t catch snag in my chest like tangled fishing wire.
I know this was always the way we were meant to end, but I thought I’d have more time to prepare.
I thought I’d be ready, but I’m not.
Not even close.
I glance from Steve to Willow, realizing what I need to do.Although I say I’ll be right back, I have no intention of keeping that promise.
Steve will get over it.It’s not as if he’s invested in whatever this thing is we’ve shared.The guy doesn’t even text me whenever he leaves Inner Shores.His bruised ego feels like the least of my worries as I hurry through the bar and out into the balmy evening, scanning the parking lot for Ethan’s truck.
There’s no sign of him.
Dammit.
Maybe Willow will let me borrow her car.
I turn on my heel and head back inside.My stomach sinks when I see Steve clutching a freshly made gin and tonic.
“I wasn’t sure if your order had changed since last year, but I went ahead and got you the usual,” he says, handing me the bulbous glass.
“Thank you,” I reply stiffly.
My usual drink has alcohol, and therefore, will get the job done.It won’t excite or challenge me, but it’ll leave me sufficiently drunk, which is the only option for salvaging this night.
