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Chapter Seventeen
Kristen slid into her apartment, shut the door, and then leaned back against it with a heavy sigh.
“Crap,” she whispered, “I’m broken.”
Dismay had her shaking her head. The date with Paul tonight replayed in her mind. The entire time at dinner she’d waited to feel a flutter of excitement. Goose bumps. Anything.
But there’d been nothing.
When he’d asked her about her trip to Seattle and then promptly changed the subject a half a minute later, her irritation had kicked in. It hadn’t improved while he’d rambled on and on, continuing to monopolize the conversation—while also trying to hold her hand.
In fact, she’d imagined Blake standing behind her, whispering how wrong Paul was for her. That she needed to wake up and realize that he was actually kind of a self-absorbed, pretentious jackass.
And as frustrating as it had been that the imagined Blake in her head had been clam jamming her again, he was right.
Whatever blinders she’d been looking through at Paul before the Seattle trip had been ripped off. There was no attraction. No giddiness anymore.
It didn’t help that she’d constantly compared Paul’s smile to Blake’s. Or that she couldn’t envision Paul making her toes curl during sex the way Blake had. Or that Paul now left her feeling…nothing.
When he’d leaned in to kiss her, murmuring he’d wanted to come into the apartment, she’d turned her head and let his lips brush her cheek instead.
It had hit her with total clarity. Any attraction and crush she’d had on her friend before the Seattle trip, Blake had killed it.
She’d gently told Paul that she’d made a mistake and that they were probably better off as friends. She’d ignored his expression of disbelief and slipped quickly inside her apartment.
And now here she was. Utterly broken.
Though it shouldn’t have been a total surprise. She hadn’t stopped thinking about Blake since she’d come back to Vegas a week ago.
There was an ache in her heart and a lump in her throat, and damn it, she missed him.
But had he called? Texted? No. There’d been nothing but utter silence.
Which was why when her phone came to life a half hour later, her pulse quickened and she scrambled to grab it from her purse.
When she saw her brother’s name on the caller ID, any hope that it was Blake died. She debated answering but finally picked up. “Hey, James.”
“Kris. Hey, kid. Was getting worried when I didn’t hear from you. You split a little early from Seattle. Missed dinner.”
Her stomach clenched, and her throat grew tight. She really should’ve replied to the handful of texts her brother had sent to check on her. At the time, she’d still been irritated at both him and Blake. “Yeah, sorry I left without saying goodbye. I had to get back.”
Lamest reply ever, and they both knew it.
“Kris, I’m sorry.” Regret laced her brother’s words. “I had no business asking Blake to watch over you.”
The lump in her throat grew. Oh God, please don’t bring up Blake. She really didn’t want to have this conversation.
“It’s fine. We don’t have to do this.”
“But I—”
“Really, let’s just pretend last week never happened.” Her words sounded a little brittle.
Blake had only been sticking by her side as a favor to her brother. He probably wouldn’t have even slept with her if she hadn’t damn near thrown herself at him.
“All right.” James’s tone was cautious. “How are you doing?”
“I’m good.” It was hard to muster the energy to make that statement sound authentic, though.
