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The hostess leads us to a table, and she keeps giving me flirtatious glances, but I igno
re her, keeping my expression steely. Downright unreadable. Mom is talking a bunch of nonsense to the girl as if she knows her and the minute we’re seated, I ask her what’s up.
“Did you know that girl?” I ask once the hostess seats us.
“Why yes, she actually goes to your old high school. She’s a senior. I always see her when I come in here with my friends,” Mom says as she snatches up the cocktail menu the hostess left behind.
Worry fills me. She promised she wasn’t drinking as much, but I’m thinking she’s lying. “Are you really going to order a drink?”
“I’m not driving, so yes,” she snaps, her gaze never straying from the menu. If I could snatch it out of her hands and fling it across the room, I so would.
Great idea, Mom, coming to this place so you can booze it up and oh yeah, look at that. There’s Ava.
It’s like I can’t escape her pretty ass.
Fucking sucks.
I bite back what I really want to say and flip open the menu, my gaze sliding over the options, though I don’t actually comprehend what I’m reading. My emotions are turbulent. Rising and falling within me, fighting for domination. I’m equal parts frustrated and stressed and nervous, all because of a certain someone who I’m currently sharing air with.
“Eli.”
I glance up when Mom whispers my name. “What?”
“Isn’t that Ava over there?” She tips her head in the direction of Ava and Gracie’s table.
I nod, training my gaze on the menu. I refuse to look over at her. “Yeah.”
“She’s back in town?”
I nod again, my appetite fleeing.
“Back from Spain?”
“Yes, Mom.” I slam the menu shut and drop it onto the table. “She’s back from Spain.”
“Why isn’t she in school?”
“She took the semester off.”
“Are you two speaking?” Mom knows about our breakup, but that’s all she knows. I gave her no details, which was probably a mistake because now she’s full of questions and I don’t want to talk about Ava.
“Not really.” I steal a glance in her direction, unable to help myself. Our gazes meet, and she looks away quickly, as if she’s embarrassed she got caught watching me.
I don’t look away though. I’m willing her to return her gaze to mine, hating all the old, uncomfortable feelings coming back to me. It’s like I’m seventeen again and I’m in love with a girl who doesn’t want to give me the time of day. I’m annoyed with my controlling mother and frustrated with this beautiful girl who doesn’t want anyone to know we’re actually seeing each other.
That was the Eli of old’s struggles, and I hated feeling like that. I hate worse feeling like that now.
“I always thought you two would get married,” Mom says wistfully, as if she’s already dreamed up the wedding. “Such a shame it ended.”
“Yeah well, we’ve both moved on,” I say, relief flooding me when a server approaches our table and asks for our drink order. I only ask for water. Mom orders a glass of wine.
“You can drink with me, you know,” she says once the server leaves. “You’re of legal age now.”
“Gee thanks for giving me your permission,” I say sarcastically, hating the wounded look that crosses her face. I exhale loudly and scrub my hand over my jaw. “Sorry. I don’t want to drink and then have to drive home.”
“You could stay the night. Your room is still pretty much intact,” Mom suggests.
“Still don’t want to risk getting behind the wheel after a couple of beers. What if I got a DUI?” My college football career would be over. Wrecked because I threw a couple back with my mother.
