Page 13 of The Sweetness of Life

Taking another sip of his drink, his eyes lifted and landed right on Lexi. She grinned at him and waved him over, but he didn’t return the smile. Instead, his chest deflated as if he’d let out a deep sigh then he hesitantly moved across the room toward us. His eyes found mine, and my heart plummeted into my stomach—not because of the anticipation of meeting him, but because of the way his eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. The way he was looking at me made me want to shrink back as if I’d done something wrong.

When he gave me a once-over, the energy pouring off him felt tangible, almost as if it were pushing me, which was confusing. I glanced at Lexi. She too had calmed her excitement over our introduction and was looking at him questioningly. Lexi’s eyes flickered to mine and widened slightly.

Sucking up my nerves, I held my hand out to greet him. “Hi, I’m Shelby.” My voice wavered, cluing him in to my nervousness, and his eyes narrowed before they dropped to my outstretched hand. Then he actually had the gall to take a step away from me like I’d offended him.

Lexi squeaked a little in shock at his reaction. My hand lingered in the air and then slowly lowered. The heat already in my cheeks flared to full effect, and I glanced at the ground, humiliated.

“I know,” he said with a condescending tone that was rich with a Southern drawl. My eyes flipped back to him as someone near us took a photo and the flash lit up his very blue eyes. He blinked and long thick lashes swept down.

For two weeks, I’d been looking forward to that night. I had gone out, bought a new dress, and gotten my hair and nails done. Deep down, I had truly believed this would be the beginning of something new and great. I guess I thought if he was such a good friend of Lexi’s, he would become a friend of mine, too, maybe even more. Apparently, I had thought wrong.

“Zach?” Lexi threw him an irritated what-is-wrong-with-you look.

“What? You said you were going to introduce me to a Shelby tonight.” He had looked at me, looked back at her, shrugged, and then walked away.

“So, you two already know each other?” Kelly asks, breaking me from my train of thought. We’re standing around an old wine barrel that’s been repurposed as a tasting table. She’s practically leaning on Zach, and I have to give it to him—he looks uncomfortable, but he’s being polite. Then again, I guess he can’t exactly be the rude prick he actually is to a reporter.

“No,” I respond at the same time Zach says, “Yes.” His eyes lock onto mine, and my world tints blue from the color. It’s unfortunate that such a pretty color is wasted on someone like him.

“We met once,” I say acrimoniously. A flash from off to my right forces me to blink. I suppose it looks like the three of us are conversing nicely, but nothing would please me more than to take one of these bottles and shove it up his ass.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t know you. I learned a lot about you that night.” He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table.

“I highly doubt that. I seem to remember your focus being somewhere else completely.”

After our initial introduction, he left Lexi and me to head to the bar. Then he spent the next hour walking around the room saying hello to people he already knew and going out of his way to meet new people—or should I say new women.

Occasionally, he checked back in with us, bringing over whomever he was charming at that moment, and he always introduced me as his date. The looks that would flash my way were a mixture of pity and jealousy. It was humiliating, and poor Lexi apologized profusely.

I didn’t need a date to go to the Feeding America event. I attend functions all the time by myself. In the food industry, it’s important for me to keep my name and face recognizable, and I never know who I might meet or run into, but I was led to believe I was going to be on a date, and that changed the entire dynamic of the evening. Any other time, I would have walked off and said forget it, but for some reason, this rejection stung.

“Ah, was the little chef from Charleston jealous?” Zach smirks at me, his eyes dripping with contempt.

“Jealous? No. Your reputation precedes you—you’re a known womanizer. That night was supposed to be a fun night out and nothing more. I would never get involved with someone like you, nor would I ever have emotions like jealousy attached to you.”

The truth is, I know nothing about his reputation. I did go home and look him up after the event, and other than the bad review on the wines, I didn’t see anything negative about him. Sure there were photos of him with girls, but most looked like candid fan shots rather than posed event shots.

“I’m not a womanizer.” His eyes dart over to Kelly before flipping back to mine. He hates that I’m speaking ill of him in front of her. People from the media are notorious for spinning off the cuff comments badly all the time, especially in the business setting where appearances mean everything. He pins me with a severe look, but all that does is egg me on.

“Oh really, what is it women call you? Oh yeah . . . Ten. I can only imagine how you got that name.” I roll my eyes with sarcasm. Along with the candid shots I saw of him, there were several with homemade signs all calling him Ten, saying he ranks a ten in their book, stating they only need ten minutes, asking if he’s ten inches, et cetera. Yes, I understand that was his jersey number from when he played in Tampa, but still, it had to have gotten started somewhere.

His jaw locks, his neck turns red, and his hands tighten around the wine glass he’s holding. Clearly, he doesn’t like the nickname as he went from teasing me to pissed in two seconds flat.

A laugh escapes me. “Well, would you look at that? Someone doesn’t like hearing the truth. Bless. Your. Heart.” My words drip with disdain, but I plaster on the sweetest smile I can.

Zach abandons his wine glass, stands straight, pushes away from the table, and walks straight at me. I back away from him. It separates us from the others, but I still feel a hush fall over the room. All eyes have turned to watch him approach me. Every true Southerner knows the expression “bless your heart” can be meant in one of two ways: the nice, heartfelt, endearing way or the publicly acceptable go-fuck-yourself way.

“You are such a bi—”

“All right, everyone!” Kyle claps his hands to gain the group’s attention, and Zach stops directly in front of me, barely acknowledging him. “I think we’re done here for today.” Kyle affixes Zach and me with a harsh look, which we both ignore since we’re too focused on each other.

There is animosity between us, and although I’m certain we alluded to it here and there over the last few hours, Zach is now seething and making his feelings about me known.

“Thank you, everybody,” I say to no one and everyone at the same time, thrilled that the photo shoot is over. Once the people leave, so can I.

One by one, they begin to file out of the cellar. Zach says nothing, does nothing, he just stares me down, and I refuse to look away.

“Zach, are you coming?” Kelly asks. I’ll never understand some girls. Other than the first five minutes of the interview, he’s given zero reasons for her to think he’s into her, and yet she’s still vying for his attention.