Page 9 of Love in Focus

But of course, I can’t do that. Not when it’s been eight years since we last saw each other.

I swallow, and ball my hands into fists before glancing away like I didn’t spend the last few seconds staring at her. My cheeks are red-hot, but I keep my expression indifferent. That and avoiding eye contact are the only things I can do to keep some semblance of my pride.

But fuck. Some peopledoage like fine wine.

In an attempt to regain my sanity, I pretend Celeste doesn’t exist, and address Gretchen instead.

“Sorry for barging in, but I wanted to check if you’re okay,” I say to her. “I can get you some water if you want…”

Gretchen heaves a long sigh and stumbles forward, away from Celeste. She jabs a finger in my direction and says, still slurring her words, “You.How do you know Celeste? She’s been cheating on me this whole time, hasn’t she?”

And that’s enough drama for me today. It appears I overstepped. Gretchen has stopped vomiting, at least, so it’s time for me to make my exit.

I back away, pushing the stall door open behind me. “Um, no idea about the second part but if she was, it wasn’t with me. We went to college together, that’s all. I haven’t seen her in eight years.”

I of course don’t mention she’s my ex. That’s a detail I doubt will sit well with Gretchen.

If Celeste visibly reacts to what I say, I don’t see it, because I force myself to keep ignoring her. Her mere presence, only a few feet away, makes my entire body tingle in an unfortunately not-unpleasant way. I can’t stay here.

Some part of me wants to yell at Celeste like Gretchen’s been doing and demand that she explain why she left me all those years ago. Why everyone in my life keepsleavingme without any explanation whatsoever. But I know she’s not the type to respond well to that kind of thing. Admittedly, few people are, but Celeste is even more allergic to loud voices and conflict than anyone I’ve ever known. Or at least, she was eight years ago.

Celeste shifts her weight, and I instinctively glance in her direction.Damn it.

Apparently, she’s been watching me this entire time. But when our eyes meet, hers immediately dart back to Gretchen.

“I didn’t cheat,” she says, quietly but firmly. “Please don’t think that. Just because I don’t do relationships—which I made clear when we first met—doesn’t mean I’m a cheater.”

I make a sound of disbelief before I can stop myself. Both Gretchen and Celeste give me confused looks, but I couldn’t help it. The Celeste I knew was a hopeless romantic. She was the girl who carried around romance books and made little braids in my hair when we were curled up in bed together. The girl who whispered how much she loved me and wanted to marry me one day. And now, she doesn’t “do relationships”? Whathappened?

“Can you please leave?” asks Gretchen, shooting me a glare. “We’re in the middle of something here.”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice. Successfully avoiding eye contact with Celeste this time around, I slip out of the restroom. This is clearly not the time and place for me to interrogate Celeste about her past. Aboutourpast. Especially not after the night I’ve had.

And that’s when I remember what I was doing before Celeste crashed into my life again.

Oh shit.I glance down at my phone.

I’d received a couple texts from Kiara and Val asking me if I’m okay. I immediately reply to them to say that I am, and Kiara tells me they’re now at another bar down the street.

You’re welcome to join us if you want!she writes.

I’ll see you guys back at the apartment, I reply.Thanks for coming out with me!

Of course!Kiara replies.

Have fun~texts Val.While also being safe, of course.

We’ll stay in this area for the next hour or so before heading back home, so just call or text us if anything happens!Kiara adds.

I tap my phone to heart Kiara’s message and make my way through the bar, doing a double take when I see Ian angrily yelling at the bartender for more drinks. He seemed tipsy when I left, but now he’sdefinitelydrunk.

The rage disappears from his face the moment he sees me.

“Oh, you didn’t leave?” he asks sheepishly.

“Nope,” I say. “Sorry, I was helping someone in the bathroom.”

“Oh.” He puts down his empty glass.

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