Page 23 of The Friend Zone

I’m frozen, rooted to the ground, dying to look at him again despite the knot of despair in the pit of my stomach.

At the end of the day, this isn’t even his fault. Jagger was clear that things between us would just be casual. He could have been a little more considerate in the way he ended our agreement, but he didn’t break any promises. I’m the only one to blame if I let myself catch feelings for him when I knew it could end exactly like this.

What I want to do is to be able to look at him with my head held high, without showing him how heartbroken I feel about being cast aside so quickly.

I force myself to lift my gaze again in the absurd hope that looking at Jagger will hurt less than a second ago.

Spoiler alert, it doesn’t.

My eyes sting as tears well up, pushing to come out with the violence of a tsunami.

Don’t let him see you cry, Bay. Don’t you fucking dare.

I inhale a shuddering breath in the futile attempt to steel myself enough to climb the stairs without losing my shit in front of my former friend with benefits.

“Hey, here you are. I’ve been looking for you.” A warm, big hand envelopes mine.

When I dare lift my gaze, I find two ice blue eyes staring at me.

“Hi, Ryker.” I manage to utter through the burning sensation in my throat.

His gaze drifts to the side toward Jagger and Candace, but it lasts for a split second before Ryker’s mesmerizing eyes are back on me. “It’s been a rough night on the ice,” he murmurs. “And I’m not in the mood to party. What do you say we get out of here and grab something to eat?”

I might have been foolish enough to fall for Jagger when I knew I would end up getting hurt; and Ryker and I haven’t started in the best of terms, but I’m not going refuse a lifeline when one lands in my lap in the time of need.

I nod and follow Ryker out of the Gamma house.

RYKER

Bay looked on the brink of tears.

I had two options, the way I see it.

Either kick Jagger’s ass for being an idiot and hurting Bay by ending their arrangement by text message, or get Bay out of the lamest party of the year.

It took just one look at Bay to make up my mind. Picking a fight with Jagger would make a worse scene than my argument with Bay at the last Gamma party.

Besides, Bay looks beyond pretty in a mossy green top and a black mini skirt that shows off her perfect legs.

Only an idiot would be so careless to make her cry.

“Do you want to get off campus?” I ask with her small hand encased in mine, as we walk out of the frat house and into the mild Northern California night.

She nods. “Please.” Her answer is just one notch above a whisper, her voice scratchy from trying to keep her tears in check.

I walk Bay to my car, parked a few feet down the street from the Gamma house.

I’m usually not the dating type, but between my mom and two older sisters, I’ve been taught to open doors and move chairs when I’m in the presence of a lady.

It sounds awfully old fashioned, but I guess decent manners are never out of place.

The radio comes on the second I enter my code in the ignition and I drive through campus letting the music fill the silence in the car.

It isn’t an uncomfortable silence, so I relax my hands on the steering wheel when I notice some of the tension easing out of Bay’s shoulders.

“Uhm, what are you in the mood for?” I ask as I stop at a red light right outside of campus. “I haven’t been in town that long and I must admit, I haven’t been eating out much other than the cafeteria in the athletic department and the wings at the bar on campus.”

Bay relaxes a little more, her voice now more steady. “You haven’t lived if you haven’t tried Joe’s fried pickles. They’re legendary and Joe also has the best burgers in town.”

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