Page 49 of The Summer I Destroyed You

“I haven’t taken a girl home since last December,” I tell him. “I mean, the broken bones were responsible for a lot of that, but…I don’t know. It got old. I wasn’t willing to make an effort before and now I am.”

Caleb waves his hand through the crowded bar. “Then the world is your oyster. If you were ever good at one particular thing, it was making an effort on a Saturday night.”

Except that’s not what I want. I’m not in the mood to chat someone up, but I think the more precise issue is that what I want is a woman whose eyes flash silver when she’s mad, who’s prickly at the best of times and often far worse. “My sister sent me the number of some friend of hers she wants to set me up with. The girl surfs, apparently, and her dad is in construction.”

“That’s perfect for you,” Caleb says, “Text her.”

He seems relieved, assuming the problem’s been solved, but it feels like a mistake the moment I send the text. And why the hell is it Emerson I can’t stop thinking about when she’s clearly not thinking about me?

Jesus Christ, she pissed me off today. I can’t believe she slept with him. I really can’t.

“For a guy who just solved all his problems, you sure don’t seem any happier,” Caleb says just as Emerson walks into the bar with a friend. Of all the fucking bars, she had to choose this one.

“I didn’t solve every problem,” I say with a sigh, watching her.

Her hair is down and she’s in jeans and a very fitted tee. I’ve seen her in less—thank you, yoga—but I don’t necessarily like how many other people are seeing her as she is now. I don’t like the way the crowd parts for her, the way men continue to watch her after she’s walked past. I don’t like the fact that in a few weeks, she’ll be gone, and there will be no one here to torture me at all.

Caleb laughs, his gaze following mine. “Who’s the girl?”

I’m not even sure how to describe her. “What word would you use for a woman who’s awful and trying to destroy everything you care about, but who you also are more than a little obsessed with?”

“Nemesis or future wife,” he says. “It could go either way.”

I turn away from the bar, draining a second beer. “Well, I guess I know which one she is since she doesn’t even want a relationship, much less marriage.”

Caleb laughs. “Be that as it may, based on the way she’s looking at you, it sure seems like she wants something.”

26

EMMY

Did I know Liam would be here? Of course not. I’m not psychic.

Just because it was his friend’s bar and he told me he’s here a lot doesn’t mean there was any guarantee that I’d run into him.

And I don’t care that he’s here anyway. I have bigger fish to fry, because Chloe just pointed out some idiot named Troy, who’s eye-fucking me within an inch of his life.

Oh, and he happens to be Bradley’s boyfriend.

“Bradley Grimm?” I confirm as the bartender delivers our drinks and when Chloe nods, I sigh. I’ve got an Ivy League education, an investment portfolio any retiree would envy, yet my best means of revenge once again requires offering my vagina to a man I don’t even like. Not really a step forward for womankind, but we all do what we must. “Well then, you may be leaving here alone, then.”

“Okay, wait,” Chloe whispers. “So what did Bradley do?”

“It’s a long story,” I say.

Mostly though, it’s just a story I don’t want to tell. I was so goddamn pathetic. So desperate for someone to date me or befriend me that I’d have believed anything. And so I did believe anything, and I’ll never live down the shame of it.

The silver lining is that I’m now prettier than Bradley, wealthier than Bradley, better employed than Bradley. Oh, and I’m about to acquire her boyfriend, so there’s that too.

Chloe waves Troy and his friends over and introduces us. “You must be new around here,” Troy says, “because I would have noticed a girl who looks like you.”

Troy is the kind of attractive that won’t age well, and he’s obviously a cheater. I wonder if it would hurt Bradley more not to interfere, but no—I want to see the look on her face when I tell her. She needs to realize her actions had consequences.

“My mom lives down here,” I say. “She had knee surgery, so I came back to help her out for a while.”

He leans closer. “Wow, so you’re the kind of girl who comes home to take care of her sick mom. What a keeper.”

Yes, that’s so me.

---