Page 28 of The Longshot

I grow defensive as Chelsie uncomfortably displaces her weight from one leg to the other.

“Piss off, will ya!” I shout back, yet it’s not my outburst that makes her flinch, it’s the truth behind their remark.

“Any girl you want, eh?” She smugly purses her lips when I look back at her. Her eyes are full of unamusement, but most importantly, disappointment. “Have a good night, Gary.”

She says my name like no one else has ever said it before, leaving me breathless and remorseful.

“Chelsie.” It’s the first time I’ve said her name out loud, and only now do I start to wonder why I’ve kept it all in my mind for so long when her name has always belonged on my lips. “Don’t listen to anything they’re saying.” I try to shy away from the reality that they are, but of course, holding me accountable for my earlier claim—one I regret more than anything.

Chelsie isn’t just “any girl”.

I know that.

I’ve always sort of known that.

“They like to pull my leg. Embarrass me. You know what guys are like.”

Chelsie peers down to the ground before she’s back to burning into my gaze. “Something tells me that there’s some truth behind what they’re saying. Maybe your quick charm works on others, Gary, but it’s not going to work on me.”

“So, you think I’m charming?” I curse myself the second I speak. It’s a force of habit—playing on words. Making everything a flirtatious attempt to get closer to her.

“I think you just proved my point.” She officially sidesteps around me. “I hope you have more luck getting ‘any girl you want’ at Tenners.”

Speechless.

She leaves me utterly speechless as I watch her disappear into the distance—stood frozen in time until the lads make their way over to my side of the street. Their company is less than comforting.

“Ah, forget about her.” It’s Green who tries to reassure me at first. “She was a longshot anyway,” he declares. “They’re lots of other birdies at Tenners, am I right?” He encouragingly smacks against my back.

I refuse to nod my head in agreement, given that I know his statement isn’t true. I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone like Chelsie—nor has anyone ever left me with such a confusing mixture of emotions.

Am I scorned?

Embarrassed?

Angry?

I don’t know.

All I know is that I feel as if I’ve just completely blown my one chance with the girl I hadn’t realized I ever really wanted one with.

“Wilks?” someone calls out my name as everyone walks off without me.

I peel my eyes back.

“You coming?”

I gulp back the lump in my throat, nodding in agreement as I peel myself away from the storefront of Ruby's Bakery.

“Yeah,” I respond. “I’m coming.”

EIGHT

C H E L S I E

Whoever said that counting sheep was a tactic to help you fall asleep was a complete and total liar.

I’ve been lying in my bed for hours. Hours. Tossing, turning, and shifting into new positions, but nothing seems to work.

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