Page 17 of Tough Nut to Crack

It was very reminiscent of how the seven minutes in heaven went all those years ago. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me, but for him, it meant nothing. It took me forever to get over the hurt from what happened in high school, and I should've known better.

I wasn't even drunk the other night. I'd just had a horrible day, and I wanted to forget about it for a little while. I've tried my best not to go over what happened again and again, but my brain has never really listened to my pleadings.

"Riley," Sage says, and I sort of hate the soft tone of her voice.

It means she pities me, and I hate pity more than anything else in this world. I never want to be the girl people look at with flat lips while thinking that I should've known better or receive that look that tells me that they're shocked I even expected something differently than what I got. As if it's audaciousness to experience something with someone and then them not turn on you in the next breath.

Despite whatever affirmations I have with myself daily, it's a serious blow to my ego and has left me feeling used and more than a little pissed off.

Tossing into that I decided to stay in town for Christmas and just sat at home by myself for the last several days. I think I might be losing my mind a little, and I'm doing my best not to internalize those events, but it's getting harder and harder.

"Riley?" Sage presses again.

I huff a sigh and face her. "I demanded he take me back to my car, and he chuckled like what he said was all a damn joke."

Her eyes narrow as if she's already planning his murder on my behalf.

"The crazy thing is that he opened the truck door for me when we got to his house and was very... accommodating. I thought he enjoyed himself. But then we rode in silence like we were complete strangers."

"If you tell me he drove off without waiting for you to get into your car—"

"He waited," I assure her, but I know better than to read anything into his actions. "I guess I didn't think he was still such an asshole. I should've probably told him to screw off when he made the offer, but—"

"Your wounded teenage heart wouldn't let you," she says, giving me a soft smile.

"I guess," I mutter. "But here weare again."

"I say take the wins and forget the rest."

"The wins?"

"Yeah. He made you come epically, and that's always the goal with sex, right? He played his role, and now you don't have to worry about him being clingy or interfering with your life in any way. It's a solid win-win situation."

"I guess," I say, grabbing another stack of books out of the box. "It was just an awful end to a horrible day."

I glare at Sage, just now remembering what had happened that led me to the bar that night.

"I didn't tell you," I say, clamping my teeth closed because I signed that damn NDA. "You can't tell a soul."

"I would never," she says, and I know she's being honest. Sage isn't one of the ones who is likely to betray my trust and gossip.

"I had that meeting with Scarlett LeBlanc, remember?"

"I do. I meant to ask you about it."

"She threw soup in my face and told me it tasted like cat piss."

Sage's eyes open a mile wide, her mouth agape in shock. "She what?"

"Threw it in my face, and then had the audacity to insist I clean up the mess she made."

"What is wrong with people?"

"People from the city? Everything apparently."

Sage's lips form a flat line as she dips her head in agreement.

It's not that people from town hate outsiders, but we aren't exactly keen on others coming in and treating us poorly or wanting to get out of the city only to complain about things that happen in our small town. I guess the whole rub is that we like it when people join us but not when they try to change us to what they left behind.

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