Page 4 of Pinky Promises

Chapter 2

Brynn

“Whatareyouthinkingabout getting,” I ask Spencer after the waiter takes our drink order. My mouth is watering at everything listed on the menu. “I’m thinking maybe the scallop risotto.”

“We should break up.”

Those four words are the last thing I expect from my boyfriend’s mouth as his response. The lobster ravioli or the fillet, maybe, but not that. My eyes blink rapidly as his words sink in.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask for clarification.

I set my menu down on the table and take in his appearance. His arms rest flat in front of him, stretching the material of his blue-striped dress shirt. His green eyes that typically shine like emeralds are dull, and there is not a smile present on his face. His lips are pursed together in a pout.

I don’t break my staring contest with Spencer but see the waiter approaching the table out of the corner of my eye with our drink order.

“I don’t think I stuttered, but I said we should break up.” Spencer reaches for the tumbler of amber liquor and takes a long sip. Still no emotion anywhere in sight. My gaze meets the waiter’s, and he gives me a sad smile, feeling the tension rising at our table.

“I’ll give you guys a few minutes,” the waiter says before slowly backing away. I want to beg him to take me with him to escape this awkward conversation we’re having in public. I glance around the restaurant and wait to see Ashton Kutcher pop out and tell me I’m being punked or something. Right? This has to be a practical joke of some sort, although I must admit it’s not a very funny one.

I uncross my legs under the table as if having my heels planted on the ground could keep me from falling over with shock.

“I don’t understand. I thought things were going great.” I met Spencer four months ago when he came in to sign up for a membership at the gym where I work. I just so happened to be covering the front desk that day. He didn’t have to try that hard to get my attention. I found him instantly attractive—his eyes specifically drew me in, but he went as far as signing up for personal Pilates lessons with me. I had to give him credit, though—he made it to the third session before he confessed to signing up for the sole purpose of asking me out.

“It’s not you; it’s me.”What is this, 1999?“Actually, no, it’s you.” His brutal honesty feels like a slap straight across the face. I’m not sure what I’ve done since I’ve always been nothing but nice, even when he dragged me to stupid events with his old fraternity brothers. “Well, not you per se, but I’m—” He pauses. “I’m just rather uncomfortable with your relationship that you have with your friend Cal.” He uses finger quotation marks when he says the word “friend.”

“Cal? What are you talking about? I don’t have a ‘relationship’”—I emphasize that last word—“with him. He’s my best friend. He’s been my best friend my entire life.”

“I’m just not okay with how close you two are. Come on, Brynn, men and women can’t be just friends like that. He’s always around.”

“Well, duh, I live with him.”

“Exactly my point. You two are roommates, for fuck’s sake. You two act as though you are the ones dating, not you and me. Like tonight, I felt more like the third wheel, not him. And you can’t honestly expect me to be okay with you telling himeverythingabout our lives because I know you do, or hell, even sleeping in the same bed as him.”

“Nothing has ever happened. Again, we’re just friends.” I make sure to enunciate “just friends” so that he hears me loud and clear.

“No, you’re not. You might think you are because you don’t want to see it, but anyone who has a relationship with you should know that it’s not just you that they are dating, but somehow in some weird throuple like in those stupid romance books you read.”

I’m not sure which makes me angrier, the accusations that he is throwing my way about Callum and me or that he just called the romance novels I read stupid. The fictional men I read about obviously set the bar way too high for what I believe is a good guy. It’snotthe douchebag in front of me.

“There’s just too much history between the two of you. How can you and I ever focus on our future when you’re living too comfortably in your past?”

It’s not that I don’t see a future with Spencer, and yeah, the sex is good, but he’s talking like we’re ready to walk down the aisle tomorrow.

“Wow,” I draw out. I sip from my wineglass, needing the liquid courage to calm my nerves. “I’m not really sure what to say.” I mean, how do you respond to such bullshit accusations.

“There’s not much to say, honestly. It is what it is.” He picks up his menu and looks it over. “Now that we have that out of the way, shall we order? I’m starving.” He looks up and flags down the waiter.

My mouth falls open.What the hell? Is he insane?I guess breaking up with your girlfriend sparks your appetite. However, being the one broken upwithhas thrown my appetite out the door.

I hold up my hand to stop him from talking further. My blood begins to boil, but I refuse to make a scene in a crowded restaurant. I have a little more class than that, unlike Spencer.

“I’m sorry, let me get this straight. You invite me out for a nice romantic dinner at one of the nicest places you haveevertaken me, break up with me before we even order, accuse me of cheating on you—”

“No, I didn’t say you cheated,” he interrupts. “I said that I don’t like how close you two are. Unless you have something to confess and admit you cheated.” Spencer looks right through me as if I have something I need to get off my chest. “If you honestly saw a future with me, then maybe you’d consider giving up your friendship with him. I know plenty of women you could become close with.” Who the fuck does this guy think he is?

Holy hell, I need to get out of here before I toss my drink in his face or maybe stab him with a fork.

“Where are you going?”

I bellow out a laugh as I stand and grab my purse off the back of my chair. “If you think I’m going to stick around, then you are dumber than you’re trying to make me look. Have a nice fucking life.”

I spin on my heels and head for the door, not bothering to turn around when I hear Spencer calling my name as I exit the restaurant. Does he seriously think anything else needs to be said or that I would even want to stick around?

I’m thankful the weather is decent while waiting outside for my Uber. I wrap my arms around my stomach, watching strangers pass by me. Some ignore me while others smile, completely unaware of the train wreck that is my life.

The black sedan pulls up to the curb, and as I’m getting in the back seat, I make the mistake of glancing back at the restaurant and through the windows, seeing Spencer leaning over some redhead at the bar.Are you kidding me? That took all of five minutes. Un-fucking-believable.

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