Page 128 of Make Me Dream of You

Bex laughs wildly at something Jake said. I must have missed the joke, though I, admittedly, wasn’t paying attention to their conversation.

Keeping my eyes averted from the man sitting across from me—the rich, dark scent of his cologne bringing back memories of twisted bedsheets and roaming lips and hard—I reach for my glass of water.

But my hand smacks the glass, knuckles knocking it over. It crashes to the table, water splashing across the white cloth, ice spilling out to the sound of shrieks and gasps. Everyone is standing. Water drips over the edge onto the floor.

Noah and I reach for the glass at the same time, his fingers brushing my skin instead. I recoil from him, refusing to meet his gaze. The server and another young man come to help with a rag.

“Please, miss, let us take care of it.”

I back away, everyone’s eyes on me, an overwhelming sob beginning to rise in my chest. Tears brimming to the surface, I turn and dart toward the bathrooms.

Panting, I shut the door to the single-use restroom, turning the bolt, but not hearing the telltale click of the lock. Great. Broken.

Of course, I’m not lucky enough for there to be a window in here. Just walls covered in a dark and moody maroon floral wallpaper. I lean over the sink and stare in the mirror, willing my breathing to slow.

My skin is pale and my stomach churns.

There’s a gentle tapping at the door. “Livvy,” Noah says from the other side, his voice deep and low and a little strained.

No, no, no.

“Liv, are you okay? Can I talk to you?”

I loved when he called me Liv, and now I can’t stand it.

With a soft click, the doorknob starts to rotate.

I rush to the door and snatch it open, letting the door swing wide and hit the wall. Noah’s there, arm outstretched, hovering in the dimly lit hall.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” I say, heart beating wildly, hating how my voice cracks on the you.

He takes a step back, his throat bobbing against the tight collar of his shirt and tie. “I know.”

I step past him and back toward the table.

“Livvy, wait?—”

But I don’t wait. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he hurt me. I won’t cry. Even as my vision starts to blur and my eyelids sting holding the tears back.

I sit at the table, head high. It’s been cleaned up, a new, dry tablecloth put down and a fresh glass of water at my place.

Everyone quiets as I scoot my chair in.

Bex leans in. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” she whispers across the table.

“I’m fine.”

She sits back and smiles, but it’s half-hearted. She exchanges a weary glance with Jake next to her.

Then Noah joins us. Every line of his face hard. His dark brows brooding. Soft lips in a pout. He wraps his tattooed fingers around his gin and tonic and takes a sip. Silently staring at me.

He wants to talk?

Okay.

Let’s talk.

Let’s put it all out in the open. I’m sure my sister would love to hear about how you took my virginity along with everything else while you were fucking her, too.

---