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Jamie’s reactions made zero sense. The sex had started incredible, and yet, I'm not sure I'd ever had a man be so affectionate and so cold at the same time. I'm not even sure why I'm back here after the way things ended yesterday. I told him I would, but I didn't really have to come back today. I could have easily run. But here I am. Why?
Maybe I just need to figure out what was different about it. Why did yesterday feel so much more than just another fuck? The way he touched me seemed like more. At least it did to me. I need to know if it’s just me, or if there really was something more meaningful about it. I haven't seen him yet tonight, and the thought of it makes me nervous. How is he going to act? What if itwasjust another fuck for him?
Now that I’m here, I suppose there’s no way around it. Even on a Monday, which is always slow, there’s no way he’s not going to be here. What am I going to say to him? Do I even bring it up, or should I just avoid it altogether? I could confront him, ask if I did something wrong, but that seems desperate. Needy, even.
In the span of one afternoon, he went from being curt to me, to fucking me, to being curt again. What would Gary say if I told him about this? The answer is so obvious. Hell… he already told me before, and I just don't want to admit he was right:Jamie told you exactly what you wanted to hear so he could get in your pants. And then, once he did, he went straight back to being his douchey old self. Because Jamie is a douche with a capital D.That’s what Gary told me, and I didn’t want to believe it.
I slam my locker shut, cutting off Gary's voice in my head.
"Whoa, honey, you okay?" Maddie steps out of the stall. Clear-eyed, no tears, and with a fresh face of makeup, she's even prettier than she was yesterday. I was hoping she would quit after what happened in the alley, but of course, my luck is never that good.
Forcing a smile, I fix my uniform. "I'm fine. Just on my period." It's a stupid lie, but an easy one she'll buy.
"Oh, do you need a tampon?"
Why does she have to be so nice? Especially for being Shelly's friend, I expected her to be a bitch. "I'm okay, thanks."
She cocks her head. "Sweetie, can I tell you something, girl to girl?"
Oh, here it comes. The bitchiness. I feel it. "Of course."
She reaches into her purse for something. "I know how this is going to sound, but I promise I'm not trying to be rude. Just with this job—you know how men can be. And I saw you yesterday, you're very pretty. You just look a little tired." She pulls out a roll of concealer. "I think we're the same skin tone."
Fuck. She's actually being genuinely nice. But of course, I take "tired" to mean I look like shit, because it's true. I do look like shit, and I am exhausted.
I take the concealer from her. "Thank you so much."
Maddie waves a hand. “No prob. You can keep it. I have a bunch. I sell makeup on the side. Shelly thinks it's a pyramid scheme, but what does she know?” Maddie rolls her eyes and grins. “Have a good night.”
She practically trots out of the bathroom, her boobs and hair bouncing like a slow-motion lifeguard movie.
It’s not like Iwantto hate her. I don’t, not really. But life has taught me that beautiful girls, or everyone that is beautiful, really, are never nice and should be handled with suspicion at all times, because they sometimes may act like they want to be your friends and, when you least expect it, they stab you in the back. My back is already heavy on scars, so my guard is always up.
Maddie being as beautiful as she isandgenuinely nice is confusing and disconcerting because I never came across someone like that, so I don’t know how to react to her. I decide to focus on other things instead and leave the mystery of Maddie for later.
I slough on the concealer, the knot in my chest tightening.
After how Jamie and I left things, I barely slept last night, and it shows. What’s worse is that it bothers me that I’m so bothered. I shouldn’t care about Jamie Albrecht’s opinion of me. He’s the last person in the world I should give a fuck about.
And yet, for some fucking reason, I can’t get it out of my mind.
Tugging my uniform straight at my hips, I plump up my cleavage, lift my chin up, and prepare myself to face him. I leave the bathroom and curve around the hallway and into the front-of-house.
I can do this. There’s no way Jamie’s attitude was personal. I’m just imagining things. All I have to do is walk up to him and just say—What the fuck?
I skid to a stop next to an empty high top in the center of the lounge. I stop so fast my heels nearly slide out from under me. Am I seeing things? I blink twice, but no, I’m definitely not imagining this.
Jamie is sitting at the bar, his computer open in front of him, but he’s not alone. Maddie is sitting on his lap. The barstool is turned around, so he’s facing me, but he’s not looking in my direction. Maddie’s leaning perpendicularly across him, her back against the bar, her legs lifted into the air.
She twists around and reaches for his face, linking one arm around his neck and reaching for his face with the other.
They’re talking, but I can’t hear their conversation. Suddenly, Maddie throws her head back and laughs, her long blonde hair spilling down her back. She is practically shoving her cleavage into his face.
Jamie’s eyes skirt past Maddie and land on me.
I’m standing, frozen, next to the door leading to the back hall.
Move. Do something.Why am I just standing here, my legs not listening to me?
