Page 11 of The Thought of You

“I made it!” I announce with my most charming grin. During my baseball days, this grin was an important aspect of my brand. It could turn the droopiest frowns upside down, and many fans would even rave on their socials about how quickly I could transform their dreary days into sunshine.

I’m not above using it to my advantage with Addie, even though history has made it clear that it has no effect on her.

“I’m sorry I’m so late, but I had?—”

She storms past me, her arms still secured around her chest as she rushes to her car and yanks the door open.

I follow her hurried steps and call out, “Are you all right?”

She slams the door shut and whirls around with both hands on her hips. “No, I’m actually not all right, Owen,” she clips, hissing my name with the sneers of a thousand cartoon villains. “You’re not just late; you missed the shift altogether. I had so much to do tonight, but I had to drop everything and rush over here to cover for you.”

“What did you have to do tonight—organize your damn yarn for your weekend knitting circle?” I toss, seamlessly falling into normal patterns. It’s been like this with her for months—years, really.

“I nearly swiped a mailbox on my way, and I was here for a whole thirty minutes before I realized I’d forgotten to put a damn bra on.”

On instinct, my gaze drops to her chest, but her sweater reveals nothing. If she hadn’t told me her tits were going commando, I wouldn’t have known.

“Don’t look at my chest,” she screeches and wraps her arms around herself again.

“Relax. There’s nothing to see.”

“Excuse me?” Grimacing, she lurches backward like she’s dodging a punch. “Just because I don’t have plastic balloon boobs like your baseball groupies, it doesn’t mean there’s nothing here. There’s plenty.”

“I just meant your sweater is thick enough. There’s nothing scandalous for you to worry about.”

She shakes her head, and her humorless laugh echoes in the night, the sharp edge in her tone striking me in piercing waves.

Well, that wasn’t the right thing to say, either.

Fuck.

“You are unbelievable.” She throws her hands up. “You make me do your job, and instead of thanking me, you come here to insult me. But you know what? I expect nothing else from you. In fact, thank you for your consistency. At least I can count on you for your unwavering sense of rude and careless behavior. Isn’t that comforting?” she deadpans and jerks her door open again.

“Now, wait a minute. It’s not what you?—”

The slam of her door cuts me off, and the roar of her gurgling engine signals the end of our non-conversation.

It wouldn’t have made a difference to explain to her my complicated personal situation, anyway. No matter how badly I’d love to dispel all the unsavory things about me clogging her brain, what’s the point?

She’s hated me since we were teenagers. Back then, my biggest problems were getting my math grades up, winning the state championship with the baseball team, and deciding on the date of the next bonfire party at Josh Rivers’s house.

I only saw Addie at one of those parties.

For her, I was the biggest problem. That’s what it seemed like, anyway.

I was too much of a loose cannon. Too unreliable and goofy. I think she called me cheeky once, and while I thought it was a compliment at the time, it most certainly was not. She snatched my uneaten Little Debbie and threw it into the trash on her rampage out of the cafeteria that day. I don’t even remember what I did to set her off.

Since then, I’ve done a million other things she considers heinous, so it’s hard to nail down the exact reason for her distaste of me, not that I’ve ever asked. She’s never given me the chance.

It’s been ten years since high school. We’ve lived separate lives during that time, and now that I’m back, I’ve basically picked up where I left off.

I’m still the biggest problem for Addison Lockhart.

chapter

three

ADDIE

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