Page 14 of The One Who Got Away

“I didn’t give him any details,” she assured me. “Leaving was really brave. And bad ass,” she added.

Both were adjectives she’d used before, and they fell as flat as they did when she said them the first time. “Thanks,” I repeated weakly. I glanced at her and stretched my smile from ear to ear. “Really.”

She twisted her mouth to one side, her shoulders slumping. An awkward silence passed between the two of us, neither of us wanting to be the one to break it.

She scooted off the stool and shook her head until her blue tinged locks were as wild as mine. ‘I Love Rock and Roll’ punched from the speakers on the wall. When the women beside us let out some whoops of approval and worked their way to the tiny space near the front for dancing, I went ahead and got my excuse ready in case Ashton was planning to pull me to the dance floor.

“I’m headed to the bathroom.” Her ebony eyebrows arched, the left one jiggling. It was an invitation, girl code for ‘Let’s go to the bathroom and chat and keep each other company.’

“I’ll watch our seats. And maybe steal a couple of sips of your drink.” I threw in the last bit to help the decline go down a little easier.

Her smile was a solemn one, but she nodded her head and made her way through the crowd, pointed toward the atrium. When she got to the end of the bar, where Josh was, she flashed him a smile that was all teeth.

The thing that flared in the pit of my stomach as I watched them wasn’t jealousy. I was happy that she was happy. Seeing them, the freshness, the newness of falling in love, just took me back to when things were fresh and new with Lincoln. When I became like all the other girls I rolled my eyes at who drew hearts in the margins of their notebooks. I counted down the minutes until I could break free and see him. When his smile would sprint across the hall and hit me right in the chest, and damn if Catherine Wilkes, the gothiest girl at Rhoades High (who wasn’t a goth at all), didn’t smile right back.

I was lost in memories, ruefully staring at the bar, when the stool beside me squealed and a jean-clad leg that definitely didn’t belong to Ashton slipped in beside me. The leg was too muscular, too authoritative to be anything other than some dude who was coming in for the kill.

I lifted my eyelids, my rejection letter already signed, sealed, and delivered.

“Look-” I choked on the word when my eyes trailed up and I saw a familiar leather jacket, and a glimpse of a blue shirt that I knew was soft to the touch.

I nearly fell off my stool when I hit Lincoln’s sly grin.

“Funny running into you here,” he breathed, the husky timbre of his voice stroking me like he was close. Closer than beside me. Close enough that his lips were inches from my neck. Close enough that when he breathed, I melted.

I blinked, my neck cranked in his direction. I realized I wasn’t fantasizing that Lincoln was all up in my personal space, about to kiss my neck or worse. He was literally right there.

I leapt from the stool, heat gathering between my thighs. The knowledge that he still had that effect on me made anger storm to my cheeks as I snatched my jean jacket tighter around my body.

“There is nothing sexy about stalking!” I snapped.

He spun around to face me, still smiling, still sexy as hell on the stool. I glared at him, all charm and style, like he was starring in some ad for some overpriced liquor. He swept his thick fingers through his chocolate strands. Naturally, they fell right back where they were supposed to.

“I didn’t catch that,” he replied innocently, pointing at the speakers right above our heads.

The last thing I wanted was to give him one more word, one more minute of my time, but I knew that Ashton would be back any second and if she saw him, she’d swipe the nearest beer bottle and knock him over the head with it.

So I turned on my heels and marched towards the exit, headed in the direction of the parking lot, knowing he’d follow. Where was this persistence when it would have counted? For months after the would-be wedding, I had this deep-seated dream that it would only be a matter of time until I got a knock on my door and he’d be there, telling me it was all a terrible mistake.

Now, I was the one making all the mistakes.

As soon as the dusk air hit me in the face, I whirled around, gripping his elbow. I steered him out of sight of the bar and away from two tweens who were angled in the direction of the Starbucks on the corner. Not that either would have noticed us since their eyes were glued to their phones.

Lincoln’s eyes were glued on me.

He parted his lips, and his alluring voice roped me in. “Before you start freaking out-”

“Stop right there.” I reached out and poked his chest with my pointer finger. “You don’t get to make any demands of me. First, you pop up at my new job, now you’re here too?” I followed the line of my finger, wavering when I realized I was definitely touching something hard and muscled, something that I wanted to touch without pesky clothing in the way. And I wouldn’t mind swapping my finger for my tongue...

I jerked my hand away from the danger zone and staggered backward. “You...you can’t...” I dropped my arms to my side, drifted my eyelids closed, and straightened my spine. I took a deep, sobering breath. I waited until I wasn’t thinking about him naked before I opened my eyes and leveled him with my gaze. “I know you’re used to your charm and billions getting you whatever you want, but I’m not for sale. I didn’t care about that crap when we were together and let me assure you, I care even less about it now.”

My final stand would have felt more...final...if that impassive, perfectly chiseled face of his would show some sign of being affected. If it had something on it other than that smile, those eyes glittering with happiness like he was content to just be with me again.

“We’re not together!” I exclaimed, wildly shoving him. Not enough to knock him over, that wouldn’t have been possible considering he looked and felt like he spent quite a bit of time lifting weights. He was solid and beautiful and frustrating as hell.

“Stop looking at me like that!”

He cocked his head, something other than sex flickering across his face. “Like what?”

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