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“So?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve had enough. I want to go home. I have another evening of fun and games tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
Ugh. “Yes, yearly get-together where I’m the one member of the gang who’s not a couple. I’m looking forward to itimmensely.”
“Better than attending a wedding as the only member of the gang who isn’t in a couple,” he says and scuffs some snow with his boot.
“I’m sure you could’ve brought someone.”
“I could, but I didn’t. There were options, but I don’t want to be seen with anyone famous and dragged into the media. Easier to just come on my own.”
I pull a face to indicate I still think he made an odd decision. “Well, I can beat that,” I reply. “My evening tomorrow? My ex and my ex-best friend will be there. Together.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. Bitch.”
Bryn quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, feisty.”
“No, she’s a bitch. He wasn’t my ex when she started screwing him.”
“Ohhh…Yeah, bitch.” He grins and I grin back. “I hope you’re meeting your friends somewhere public—could end up nasty if you aren’t.”
“Local Italian place.”
“You live nearby?”
Weird question. “Pembroke.”
“Not far then.”
Car lights and the crunch of tyres on gravel herald the arrival of my carriage home. The taxi stops and I hesitate, unsure what the protocol is here.
“So, um. Nice to meet you, Bryn. Sorry about the soup,” I say and shuffle my feet awkwardly.
“Likewise, Avery. Sorry about the job.”
“I’m not.” I approach the car and open the door.
“What time are you meeting your friends tomorrow?” he calls.
I pause, desperate to get into the heated car and out of the falling temperature. “Seven. Why?”
He nods. As I climb inside, just before I shut the door, I’m positive Bryn says, “See you then.” No, my anxiety and tiredness are playing mind tricks. I glance at him as the taxi pulls away and he stands, hands in pockets watching.
Damn, I didn’t even ask for his autograph.
* * *
BRYN
The taxi pulls away,leaving tyre tracks in the thick snow. Well, that was a big fail. After what I witnessed inside, I'm not surprised Avery wasn't up for a guy hitting on her, however famous I am. Funny girl, cute, she made me smile and understood when I chatted with her about being an outsider. This pulled me away from staring at her as a potential conquest.
I'm crap at the predatory rock star moves, evidently.
My breath fogs in front of me and I rub my arms, wishing I’d brought my jacket outside. I wish I'd chatted longer with this cute girl on the periphery of my life, but whose understanding pulled us together. She also hates the romantic bullshit taking place inside the room and on the edge of her friends' lives too. Something in common.
Maybe I'll join her tomorrow.
Smiling to myself at the expression on her friends’ faces if I did decide to rock up at the restaurant, I head back into the noise and warmth of one of my best friend's wedding. Determined to quell my resentment at the world changing.
