Page 10 of Cracked Open


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It’sbeenamonth since I’ve seen him. The bastard comes in and out of Mac’s like he’s got nothing better to do than toy with my feelings. He’s so hot and cold, and I should be happy that he hasn’t been around. Instead, I just feel bitter. Bitter that I allow myself to even be upset that he’s gone. Especially when we both agreed its nothing serious.

Sure, I’m okay with no strings attached. But, I didn’t think that meant one time and one time only. I figured we’d do it again, or maybe hang out. Stupid of me, I know.

I rest my elbows on the edge of the bar and place a stamp on my letter to Haley. Monday evenings are always the slowest. Since it’s only four in the afternoon, we’re still empty. I’ve taken advantage of the time to write her a letter, to send to her. And fill her in on last month’s events.We've been playing phone tag, being in different time zones. She's also been extremely busy, so I enjoy writing to her when it's been awhile since we've spoken.

After acing all my finals, I’m finally free from school for a while. I tell her about my one-night stand with Colby, how I haven’t heard from him in over a month, I explain how he told me he would see me that night, then never showed up, and I bitch about how angry I am with his mixed signals. Even though I barely knew the guy, I know that the things he made me feel are intense.

The way he touches me is all-consuming. I always want more. It isn’t just the sex either. When he took me for a ride on his bike, I felt like we fit perfectly together, filling each other in like I’m made to sit on the back of his ride.

The chime above the door catches my attention. I stuff the letter into my back pocket and hurry around the bar. Fucker! Anger bubbles in my chest, and heat rushes to my cheeks as Colby sits down in front of me. I close my eyes and force myself to breathe so I can calm down. One fucking month since he left me in the parking lot.

I don’t know if anything he says will make the anger go away. What excuse could he possibly come up with? None would be good enough. We may have agreed to nothing serious, but that doesn’t involve lies. Leaving me hoping he’d be back is fucked up, and he shouldn’t have done it.

Smiling, he says, “hi.”

There are no marks on his face, but I notice his swollen knuckles. Flashbacks of my conversation with Mac flutter through my mind, and it is the only thing that helps keep me angry. I’m not an idiot. I know he’s a criminal, even if he won’t admit it. He’s really fucking good at those sad puppy dog eyes, and I want to kiss him, be nice to him, smell his skin, but I will not break.

“What can I get you?” I cross my arms and decide to just treat him like any normal customer.

“Make me something?” The corner of his lips tug upward.

It starts to thaw me, but I refuse to let him know that he still has a hold over me. It isn’t hard to make out why he is trying to be sweet. He wants to make amends by using our favorite game of “surprise me with a drink.”

It. Won’t. Work.

I’m stronger than that. The desire to forgive him surprises me, because I’m the queen of holding a grudge. I’ve made my brother, Beau, grovel for months after he threw away my makeup, or whenever he ate my leftover take out.

“Close your eyes.” I prepare a disgusting concoction called the Smokers Cough. It’s Jagermeister mixed with Mayo in a shot glass. When I place it in front of him, I wait patiently as he looks at the shot, then downs it. He makes a gagging sound, spitting it out. I don’t offer water, he can suffer. I force back a grin as I lean against the bar. Maybe that’ll teach him not to be a jerk.

“What the fuck was that?” He wipes his tongue with the back of his hand.

“It’s called a smoker’s cough. Or, as I like to call it, the ‘where the fuck have you been for a month?’”

“I’m sorry.” He gives me his best attempt at sad eyes. His blue irises are too hard to look at, so I turn away, my arms still crossed. “I wanted to be here, Andi. But work got in the way. There are things I can’t tell you.”

He is a criminal. But I don’t really care, I only care that I haven’t seen him, that I miss him, and that I want him. I don’t respond, so he continues.

“Besides. We agreed, nothing serious.”

“Neither of us wanted anything serious, Colby, but you also didn’t have to ghost me for a month, either. I don’t need your apology weeks later. I thought…” I hunt for the right word for what we are. “I thought we were friends.”

“Friends who flirt and fuck?”

“Friends who don’t lie to each other.” I bite back. “You said you’d be here, then you ghosted me.”

Colby drops his head, slouching his shoulders. Guilt is written all over him, but I’m not ready to forgive him. He wears his typical attire, jeans, a dark shirt and a black leather jacket. His hair has grown a bit, it’s slicked back with gel, and he has some blonde stubble on his face. There are bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t been sleeping.

Turning away, I try to appear busy as I dry off some clean glasses. “You look like shit.”

He glances up and flashes me one of his award-winning smiles, the one that makes me warm and fuzzy inside, and I toss a half smile back. I’m still irritated, but he’s working his way back into my good graces.

“I’ve been working so much, I’ve barely slept. How is Haley?”

I clear my throat and finally give him a glass of water to wash out the shit drink I made for him. “She’s good. She made her flight the day after everything happened. I’ve been writing her letters, but haven’t heard from her.”

“I’m sure she’ll write whenever she can.”

“Yeah.” It comes out as a sad whisper. I miss my friend, and hate that I have no idea when I will see her again. Even after her training, she’ll be shipped off somewhere, and since she is a field surgeon, she’ll frequently deploy in war zones. My time with her is limited, and I resent it. I also realize how selfish it is to be upset with her for doing what she needs to fulfill her own career.

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