Page 36 of Past the Broken Bridges

Lucy shows up beside me, knocking her elbow into my rib cage. “Are you shopping for a special someone?”

Peeling my focus away from the assorted candy, I give her an unserious look. “Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?”

She snorts, walking over to the counter and hopping onto it. “On the contrary. I know exactly who I’m talking to, Mr. I’m Too Damaged for Relationships but Still Do My Best to Make Them Happy.”

The glower I give her doesn’t stop her from teasing. “Whatever,” I grumble, walking away from the display and fixing a few of the shirt hangers off to the side.

“It’s not a bad thing,” she appeases. “I think if you find the right person, you won’t be so closed off. But word of advice?”

I don’t know why I look at her like I actually care what she has to say about the topic. It only supports her suspicions, which are hardly accurate.

Lucy’s lips waver into a knowing smile as she leans back. “Get her something she’ll actually like. Not some random candy bar from the college store. You can do better than that.”

I play nonchalant. “That would imply there’s a ‘she’ to begin with.”

Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Stupid isn’t a good look on you, my friend. We both know that there’s a ‘she’ with blond hair who has a hankering for sweets. If it’s not her buying us out of those fudge Pop-Tarts, it’s you. And I know you don’t eat them.”

My silence says nothing and everything all at once, giving her an answer I don’t verbalize. I should have knownshe’d bring that up, but I was hoping she wouldn’t.

She taps her temple. “I have eyes, Banksy. I know a crush when I see one. I don’t buy people their favorite snacks just because.”

“You used to bring me my favorite pretzels,” I remind her, thinking about all the times she’d show up at my apartment with the honey mustard–dusted pretzel bites.

She snorts. “That’s because I had a crush, dummy. It wasn’t out of innocence. I get paid way too little to be buying things for people who don’t mean something to me.”

Huh.“I didn’t know.”

“We were sleeping together,” she muses with a roll of her eyes.

“I—” I stop myself. I don’t know what to say. Am I that oblivious?

She must read my mind. “Boys are so dumb.”

Can’t argue with her there. “Pop-Tarts don’t have to mean anything.”

Lucy’s smile grows. “Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

My eyes involuntarily go to the snack display where the Pop-Tarts usually are. The only flavor laid out is the strawberry-filled ones, making my lips twitch.

Unfortunately, Lucy is still watching. “Banks and Sawyer, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N—”

“Stop,” I cut her off with a glare. “Don’t go starting that shit. I don’t have a crush.”

“You totally do.”

There’s one relatively big problem with that theory that I let her in on. “Dawson likes Sawyer,” I mumble, putting the sizes of the sweatshirts we sell back in order on the rack.

Lucy is quiet for a second. “Oh.”

I wait a minute before glancing in her direction. Her feet have stopped swinging on the counter as she studies me.

Her brows are arched on her forehead. “So is this a Desiree situation or…?”

Desiree. The name makes my eye twitch as old memories resurface of the raven-haired girl coming on to me at a party. I liked her. I liked the way she watched me. The way she flirted. If I was honest with myself, I liked how forward she was without being overbearing.

But Dawson liked her too.

And he liked her first.

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