Page 59 of Still Beating

“Excuse me?” she demands, hands on her hips.

“Or you can watch,” I shrug. “That’s cool, too.” I grab Brandon by his shirt collar, yanking him forward, then throw him back against the hood of his Jeep. “You slimy piece of shit. Four years—four fucking years with her, and you’re throwing it all away for shiny, new co-ed pussy?”

Brandon raises his hands in defense. “Shit, man, I was just messing around. Don’t tell her, okay? It’ll kill her.”

I slug him across the jaw. “You’regoing to tell her.”

Brandon grabs his face in pain, howling into his hands. “I think you broke my damn jaw.” He tries to push me off of him, but I hold tight. “You don’t even like Cora. Why the hell do you care, anyway?”

I slam him against the car and he cries out again. “I always knew she was too good for you.” I watch the mystery brunette scurry away in her high heels, then I return my attention to Brandon. “You scum bag. You’re going to end things with her or I’m going to break your jaw for real. I promise you that.”

Brandon finally shoves me away and pulls himself up, breathing hard. He shakes his head. “It’ll break her heart, man. The last guy she was with cheated on her and she hasn’t gotten over it. C’mon, just let this go. It won’t happen again.”

I run my tongue along my teeth, letting his words sink in. Then I blow out a slow breath. “Say it was me.”

“What?”

“Tell her you’re breaking up with her because I threatened you. She already hates me. She’ll believe it.”

Brandon stares at me, dumbfounded. “You’re fucking crazy. Are you secretly in love with her or something?”

I lunge at him, slamming him back against the hood. “Do it, or I swear to God you’ll be at the plastic surgeon’s office tomorrow getting a new goddamn nose.” I lift off of him, slapping at his already bruising jaw as I stand. “Then I never want to see your face again.”

A double date.

Fantastic.

Things are just as awkward as I expected them to be, considering what transpired with Jason at Mandy’s party last week. I tried to talk Mandy out of setting up this disaster, but she insisted it would be “good for Cora”.

I’m not sure going back to the same bar that Earl hunted us down in with the intention of setting Cora up with a guy only six weeks after she was raped for twenty days straight is what’sgoodfor her, but there was only so much protesting I could do without looking suspicious. Besides… Cora agreed, despite my grievances.

And now we’re trying not to make eye contact with each other over the table as she sits across from me, only pretending to eat her mozzarella sticks.

“So, when do you go back to work?” Jason asks Cora, leaning back with his hands on his knees, looking far too interested in the way the spaghetti strap of her camisole top slips down her shoulder.

Cora pulls it back up, tucking her hair behind one ear. “Monday, actually. I’m a little nervous, but it’ll be good to get back to normal and have a routine again.”

Mandy and I share a flatbread pizza, and I return the smile she sends me when we reach for the same piece.

“Do your students know what happened to you?”

My eyes cut to Jason, then Cora.

Cora makes designs in her marinara sauce with the end of the mozzarella stick, clearing her throat. “I’m sure they do. It’s still the number one trending story.”

“Shit,” Jason says in a low breath, shaking his head with sympathy. “That’s so rough. Well, the upside is maybe you’ll get a movie or Netflix deal out of it. You know Hollywood is going to want to tell your story.” Jason reaches for his beer and takes a few sips. “Have you been asked to do any interviews yet?”

Cora is scratching at her wrist, and I notice the delicate skin looks raw and irritated.

“Yeah, but I’m not ready yet. Maybe someday.”

We share a look, but she glances down by ducking her head. Without thinking, I stretch my leg out under the table until I find her foot, linking my ankle around hers and prompting her eyes to go wide. I stare at her with a soft expression, grazing my ankle up and down her calf, trying to soothe her anxiety the only way I can. She doesn’t pull away.

And she stops scratching her wrist.

Fuck. I think we’re playing footsie under the table next to our dates.

“That’s pretty cool, though,” Jason says absently. “You’re basically famous.”

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