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Her eyes go practically glacial. It’s almost a relief. As much as I hate her hating me, selfishly I’d rather she be full of rage instead of pain. I’m used to the rage.
“But graduating at the top of our class. Being the valedictorian was the only time I beat you. The only time I won. The only time I could prove that I was as good as the rest of you, even if I didn’t have designer jeans or a fancy car.”
Her bottom lip trembles before she catches it. She takes a deep breath through her nose. I’m barely able to breathe. The guilt weighing on my chest is so heavy. It’s suffocating.
More composed, she says, “That one victory, and everything it represented, gave me the drive to keep working my ass off in college. It gave me the confidence to start my own career. But now… Now I find out it was all a lie.”
“Not necessarily.” I start to reach for her, but she takes another step back. I ball my hands into fist at my side to keep from trying to hold her again. Even though it’s killing me. “You still might have finished first in our class.”
“Maybe.” She lifts her chin a little higher. “But we’ll never know. Will we?”
“Samantha…”
“Stop. Please. I—I—I need to get out of here.”
Spinning on her heel, she leaves me on the dance floor. I want to go after her. I want to tell her that we can put this behind us. That it’s in the past.
But I know Samantha well enough to know that if I follow her now, there will be no chance of a reconciliation. It’s best if I give her time and space while I try to figure out some way to make this up to her.
If I can make this up to her.
I start to reach for another glass of punch, but head to the bar instead. I’m going to need something stronger to get through the rest of the night. Now that I’ve driven Samantha out of the party she worked her ass off to put together, I at least owe it to her to make sure things run smoothly now.
“I really am a piece of shit,” I mumble into my glass of bourbon.
“That’s an interesting pep talk you’re giving yourself son.”
My spine stiffens as my father orders a bourbon for himself. Glass in hand, he raises it to me in a mocking toast.
“Then again, considering you drove your dance partner off the floor, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” He arches an eyebrow.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just checkin in. Our company did pay for the open bar.” He glances around the room. “Any chance that little spitfire friend of yours with that curvy ass is coming back?”
“No.” I clench my jaw. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s a shame. I was hoping to buy her a drink.”
“It’s an open bar.”
“I meant later. Somewhere more private.”
Seething, I suck in a breath through clenched teeth. “You’re unbelievable.”
“What? Just because you weren’t able to seal the deal, you expect me to step aside?” Dad scoffs. “Believe me, if she wanted you, she’d be with you.”
“And you think she’d rather be with you?”
“What can I say? Some women prefer a real man when they can have one. And I can safely say that young lady saw it in me. She can smell it, the way lionesses can pick up on an alpha.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I shake my head. “Samantha has your number, and she’s not impressed.”
“By you or me?”
“Either of us.” I take another slow drink of my bourbon, allowing the heat from it to warm my belly. “But there’s one big difference between you and me.”
“Which is?”
