Page 120 of Collided

“I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit,” I murmur.

Sebastian watches me closely, but I don’t give a fuck.

Marie moves her basket toward her. “You can have my onion rings.” Reluctantly Hope takes one.

Wanting to put an end to this I ask Hope to move so I can get out. At the counter I order French fries and a coke can for her. I pay and turn around only to see Marie waiting for me.

“What is it?” I ask with agitation.

“Nothing.” Her smile broadens.

“You look creepy with that smile, Blondie.” I check on Hope who’s talking to Sebastian. She looks relaxed and even smiles.

Marie sits on the stool while I lean against the counter, waiting for the order.

I feel the heat of Marie’s stare on me.

So, I turn and glare at her. “There isn’t anything going on between us.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Marie sips her coke bottle. Because of Sebastian, she avoids alcohol, not that she was a big fan of it before. She doesn’t even take a beer.

This is my first time drinking in a while, otherwise, I avoid it too, especially in front of Sebastian. Even though he’s quit and been through rehab and knows not to dive head-first into his urges. As a friend I don’t want to resurrect a part of his life he’s buried and moved on from.

Although tonight my head is a mess of thoughts about a girl who crosses my mind so often. Everywhere I go I’m thinking about her. All the fucking time.

Shelivesin my head.

On instinct, I check up on Hope for the fourth time

“She’s fine, Heath,” Marie says, noticing me.

I’m getting addicted to her, for fuck’s sake.

“Thanks for telling, not that I care,” I say in a curt tone.

“I know you don’t.” Marie pauses. “I think you should ask Hope out.”

I almost break my neck when I turn toward her. “Excuse me?”

“You like her, it’s so obvious. So why waste time?”

I watch Marie with astonishment. “We’re friends, Marie. I don’t like her.”

She ignores me. “I see the way you look at her.”

My eyebrows pinch. “Andwhatfucking way is that?”

“Like she’s the only girl you want in the whole wide world.”

A dry chuckle leaves my mouth. “She’s not my type.”

“She’s everyone’s type,” Marie says with confidence, then gets closer to me. “Look around the bar. So many guys are checking her out.”

Running a glance at every guy in the bar, my blood boils when I find a number of them staring at Hope who’s smiling and sipping Sebastian’s orange juice.

Marie pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry you’ll find your type.”

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