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“Oh, shut up, both of you. It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” Nate raises his brows, a smirk curling his lips. “You’ve had it bad for her since the moment you stepped foot in the community center.”
True, but he doesn’t know that it goes way back when I was barely seventeen. I think my friends would have a field day if they found out about that little tidbit. I’m honestly surprised I’ve managed to keep that detail to myself all this time anyway.
“You have it so bad that you barely even paid attention to anybody else.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “What are you talking about? I’ve dated in the last few years.”
It was hard not to. Even though basketball isn’t as popular a sport as football or hockey, girls love jocks, so there was no shortage of opportunities to find a girl around these parts. And I’ve used the jock card more than once. Besides, Vanessa is dating that douchebag of hers. Apparently, he’s a professor at Blairwood, but thankfully, I never had to sit through his class. That would make things awkward.
Not that there was anything to feel awkward about. Vanessa never looked at me like anything more than a kid. To her, I was just one more volunteer at the center.
“Okay, you dated,” he shrugs. “But you barely stayed long enough with one girl to give her the time of day. The moment things would start to get serious, you’d bolt. Besides, you can’t tell me with a straight face that you don’t have a crush on Vanessa.”
“She’s a gorgeous woman,” I say simply and shrug, trying to play it off. I know my friends, and sometimes they’re like dogs with a bone. They’ll chew at you until they get a reaction from you, and I’m in no mood to discuss this.
“So were the other girls you’ve hooked up with. But how many gorgeous women do you consider staying in Blairwood for?” Nate asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I shake my head, pushing Vanessa out of my mind. “Have you ever considered that I actually like it here? It doesn’t have to do with a girl.”
“No,” Nate and Mark say in tandem, their voices flat.
“You two are crazy.”
Whatever they might think, I really do love it here. Blairwood was the first place I actually considered home after moving for the better part of my life. Sue me for wanting to stay here and build a life.
“Hey.” Nate lifts his hands in defense. “I just call it like I see it. After all, she’s the one who got away.”
I give him a pointed look. “Okay, now you’re pushing it.”
I liked Vanessa, all right. She’s gorgeous and funny in that silent way some girls are. But she’s no girl. Oh, no. Vanessa Dawson is all woman.
I tried flirting with her on a few occasions, but she’d just blush and wave me off, joking that I was a flirt. And yeah, maybe I’m a flirt, but I like her. Not that she ever paid any attention to me more than was required as one of the volunteers in the center. Never stepping out of line. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was younger than her, because she had a boyfriend, or she genuinely wasn’t interested. It could be any of those, or most likely the combination of all three. Either way, she wasn’t interested. And I was fine with it. Not like I had much of a choice.
“Am I really?” He tilts his chin toward the booth in the corner. “Go and ask one of them for a number.”
I don’t bother turning around to check out who he’s pointing at. “I’m not going to ask for somebody’s number just to prove you wrong. If you want their number go ahead and do it yourself.” Done with this conversation, I grab my backpack and push to my feet. “I’m out.”
“What?” Mark groans. “Are you for real?”
“I’ve got work tomorrow morning, anyway.”
Apart from volunteering two times a week at the community center, I’m also working part-time at the gym, leading spin classes and circuit training groups.
Leaving enough money on the table to cover my part, I fist bump Mark. “If you want to play a real game, you know where to find us.” Then I turn to my roommate. “I’ll see you at home?”
Nate’s gaze darts toward the booth. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“I figured as much.” With a wave, I walk out of the bar.
The night is warm when I get outside, although it’s after eight in the evening. The temperatures have been rising in the last few weeks, and some days I can barely force myself to get out of the apartment. I already missed the beach, and fall was still far, far away.
The walk back to my apartment is quick, and being outside helps me think. I probably shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but I didn’t like the whole situation.
Taking two steps at a time, I climb the stairs up to my apartment, my shirt clinging to my chest, when I hear a soft noise. I’d brush it off, but it’s louder, something that sounds a lot like sniffling. Why would…
The words trail off because when I look up, I see her.
