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5
Shelby
My stomach dropped to my feet as I registered the look on Paul’s face. I couldn’t see Roxy’s expression from where I stood, but I could see his. His throat moved as he swallowed past a lump. His eyes tightened as he processed her words. His jaw flexed like there were a million words and no words at the same time.
I didn’t know what was being said, but judging by the fact that their hands were closed over that ring box and smashed between their chests, I knew it wasn’t good. My first instinct was to run over there and pull him away from her before she said anything else hurtful to him.
Leading up to tonight, the idea of him being hurt in this scenario hadn’t crossed my mind. I’d known he was nervous, sure, but I didn’t think he had anything to be nervous about. I was fully convinced that Roxy would eat this flash mob up and think it was the most romantic thing on earth, while eagerly saying yes.
Paul was a total catch. You’d have to be blind not to see it. He was tall and muscular, but not in a way that meant he spent every waking hour at the gym. Just enough so that when the hem of his shirt lifted when he stretched, you could see that model-worthy V-shaped thing. Not that I’d ever let my eyes linger there when he wasn’t looking, obviously.
And his arms weren’t so jacked that he had veins popping out of them, but if you happened to faint and needed to be carried somewhere, he was your guy. Not that I had any experience with that or anything.
And duh, being a catch was about more than how hot a guy was. Paul was also unbearably kind, soft-spoken even in anger, and a genuinely good listener. In fact, that last thing was the first quality that Roxy had gushed about when they first started dating. She’d said she loved that no matter what she wanted to talk about, he was great at making her feel like it was important. And I agreed. He was great at that. And I was glad she’d not only noticed it but also appreciated it.
So with those qualities and so many more, it seriously hadn’t crossed my mind thatshewould rejecthim. If anything, I thought he had cold feet for no reason. Their relationship was great. They communicated well, they looked so cute together, they kept things fresh as far as their dates. So, seeing it play out the way it did totally blew my mind.
My hands flew over my mouth as I watched my best friend in the whole world get his heart broken in front of all these people. I zipped over to fade out the music, ushering the dancers away as Paul and Roxy’s friends and family clustered into small groups and meandered away, giving them some space.
I wanted to shout like a madwoman to all of the gawkers on the patio to mind their business, but I held back, knowing it would do more harm than good. The videos of Paul’s devastating rejection were going to be compelling enough as it was without drama from another person to add to the narrative.
No, the best thing I could do was get them out of everyone’s view, so they could finish their conversation in private. Maybe Roxy was overwhelmed by the whole thing. Yes, she was a dancer who loved to perform in front of a crowd, but maybe this was too over-the-top for a moment that was so personal to her. Maybe if they were in a more intimate setting, they’d be able to work it out, just the two of them.
Then, Roxy walked away from him, tears rolling down her face. My eyes flew to Paul. He was staring straight ahead, eyes glassy and unseeing. He looked dazed. Hurt. His face was a mask of shock. But on the inside, I knew he was totally spinning out.
I took a single step toward him, but then he turned in the opposite direction and took off. My brain never made a decision before my feet were moving, chasing after him. I didn’t run because I didn’t want to draw even more drama and attention to his exit, but my short legs definitely needed a brisk pace to keep up with his long ones.
Finally, when we were a few shops away, he turned down a tight alley and came to a stop, smacking his palm against the brick wall of the building next to him. I came up behind him and launched myself against his back. I wrapped my arms around his torso and held him close, squeezing my eyes shut against his heaving breaths. I don’t know how long we stood like that. His hands—one of them still holding the small black box—dangled loosely at his sides while I hugged him. I tried to press all of my love and tenderness into him as if it would light up the darkness that swirled within him. With my ear pressed into his back, I heard the shakiness in his chest as he dragged air in and out of his lungs. And his heartbeat, the organ I knew functioned much better than mine, pounded hard and fast inside him.
“I’m so sorry, Paul,” I whispered, so low I wasn’t even sure if he could hear me with the way my chin was tucked between my shoulder and his back.
He reached up and patted my arms with one hand, then stepped forward so I’d release him. Without looking at me, he turned and tucked the ring into his pocket. “Didn’t I say I didn’t want to leave with this ring in my pocket?”
It would have been a joke if it weren’t for the jagged tone that spoke of his hurt. But still, I recognized what he was trying to do, so I played along. “Well, technically, you left with the ring in your hand. You only justnowput it back in your pocket.”
His eyes found mine, humor barely touching the edges of the hurt I saw in them. But then the look shifted slightly into something more as he gazed at me. And even though no words were spoken, something changed between us then. Not in a slow, quiet way, either. In a deep, meaningful way where it felt like my whole world had been flipped off its axis. In a way that looked like my best friend was about to lunge forward and scoop me into his arms in a decidedly more-than-friend-ish way.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I wouldn’t.
Just as his arm twitched—he could have been about to scratch his head for all I cared—I stepped back, and he froze.
And I was frozen.
And we just stood there.
Finally, he clenched his jaw and turned away, pacing the small alley with his hands on his hips.
I took the time to settle myself then. All of that—the look, the move toward me, the disappointment when I’d backed up—was completely in my head. I’d made it up. The guy had been publicly humiliated by the woman he planned to marry. There was nowayhe was about to haul off and kiss me.Me, of all people.
The girl he’d helped create a living will for at an age when no one should have to think about such things. The girl who’d thanked him for making a nice meal by accidentally bringing it back up all over his shoes. The girl who talked his ear off about things like sudden cardiac arrest being way too prevalent in teenage athletes and how somebody needed to bring awareness to it. These were not things that made a girl very kissable.
“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to get us back on track. I was the friend. The girl who should be there for him as he always was for me.
He chuckled, but the sound held no humor. “Sure.”
“Paul.”
