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We hadn’t been dating. I’d had one hot moment with her that I thought about too damn much. That was it. Other than some fun back-and-forth sparring with our words, there was nothing else.
My taking care of her when she was sick had only been because she needed a friend. She needed help. And I was scared that something would happen to her. I had cared.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside.
I still fucking cared. Too much.
twenty-two
brielle
“We are going up there!” Clara said close to my ear as she slid back onto the stool beside me.
I glanced back over my shoulder just as a girl with short, curly red hair was announced. She was going to be singing “Oops! … I Did It Again.”
Shocker. The first karaoke of the night was a Britney Spears song. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my drink in front of me on the bar. This entire night was a mistake. I should be home, watching my television. Possibly eating ice cream or maybe making brownies for when Cam came home tomorrow from his sleepover with Jeremy.
“What song should we do?” Clara asked me.
The guys at the other end of the bar stood up and started heading in our direction. I’d caught the blond one watching me when Clara went to the restroom. It had only been a matter of time before they made a move. I downed the rest of my vodka and soda, then stood up.
“I don’t care. Just try to be more original than Britney,” I told her. “I’m going to the restroom.”
Clara frowned. “You just said you didn’t have to go.”
“That was before we had guys headed in our direction,” I replied.
Clara looked around me, and her eyes lit up. “Oh, they’re cute though. Especially the blond one.”
Good. She could have them both. I was interested in neither. Things were going well with Gavin—or they had been. Even Cam had enjoyed that he was included on some of our dates. I should be happy about that. Instead, I’d made an excuse to Gavin when he asked me out tonight simply because my head wasn’t in a good place.
Dean was back. It had been easy to push him aside and not dwell on him too much when I never saw him. Then, he’d been on entertainment news with the rest of Slacker Demon as their tour was announced. Knowing he wasn’t upstairs had made it easier to compartmentalize him in my thoughts. He was back to being a rock star.
Seeing him yesterday had messed with my head. I hadn’t expected him to return—at least, not anytime soon. Maybe when he came to visit his family.
When Clara had called to ask me to go to karaoke Saturday night at Chandelier, I’d agreed. I’d been weak and needed a diversion.
Gavin deserved more than that. I liked him. He was a good man. He liked me, and I knew it. He made it clear and never kept me guessing. He was a hard worker. He brought me flowers.
He wasn’t Dean. But then that was unfair. No one was Dean Finlay. No one ever would be.
I reached for Clara’s screwdriver and downed it, too, just before the two guys came up on either side of us.
Clara started speaking, and I smiled brightly at both men, feeling slightly buzzed now that I’d drunk two drinks so quickly. My need to go to the restroom was no longer a lie to escape. I gave Clara a wave and walked back toward the line leading to the women’s restroom. The Britney song ended, and I sighed in relief. That had been brutal. Not that I didn’t like Britney—I did. It was just that, tonight, I knew ten other girls would sing a Britney song and butcher it, much like that one had.
I was almost to the line when a hand wrapped around my arm, and I instantly jerked my arm, trying to get it free as I spun around to see who was touching me. I had a can of pepper spray in my purse, but I couldn’t get it out and use it in a crowded bar. Just as the thought crossed my mind, my eyes locked on familiar sunglasses and a baseball hat.
My eyes went wide as I realized who had my arm. I did a quick glance around to see if anyone else realized who he was. In a place like this, he would cause a complete frenzy.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him, leaning in so he could hear me over a not-so-bad version of Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts.”
“Where’s the construction worker?” was his reply.
Frowning up at him, I tugged to free my arm, but he kept his fingers wrapped firmly around it. “You do realize if someone spots you, all hell will break loose,” I pointed out.
“Where’s Cam?” he asked this time.
I laughed. I should be mad. He had disappeared and not said a word to me in almost a month. But I was laughing. It had to be the drinks.
