Page 20 of You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

Oh, for the love of?—

“Fucking great,” I mutter, letting my head fall onto the bar with a thud. The cool, sticky surface is strangely comforting. “Don't say I didn't warn you.”

He tips his chin, eyes twinkling with amusement. Leave it to a guy to find my train wreck of a love life endearing. “So, you and Chad really weren't a thing? It was all fake?”

Why, Lord? Why is this man so damn nosy? Doesn't he know the cardinal rule of drinking with a stranger? Don't ask, and I definitely won't tell—coherently, at least.

“Yup,” I manage, my voice muffled by the bar top.

“And you and Cole were what? High school sweethearts?”

I snort, the sound coming out harsher than intended. High school sweethearts? Cole kept me strictly in the friend zone during high school. Not that I would have minded, of course. The memory of him in those fitted racing pants, all sweat and sunshine... Nope, not thinking about that now.

“Yeah,” I lie, my voice thick with tequila and something uncomfortably close to longing. “High school sweethearts.”

Cam nods, completely buying it. Of course, he does. “What went wrong there?”

“Okay, Dr. Phil,” I say, waving my hand dismissively. The room sways again when I lift my head, and I swear the disco ball hanging precariously from the ceiling is mocking me. “You’re getting a little too personal.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He laughs, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just curious. Cole has never mentioned you.”

Ouch. His words are like a tiny pinprick to my already fragile ego. Of course, he hasn’t mentioned me. Why would he? I’m just the girl who…

“And I’ve never even seen him go on a date,” Cam continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil. He shrugs, his words blurring together. “It would make sense if he never got over you.”

Is it just me, or does Cam sound like the nosiest girlfriend in the bar? I swear, some people should come with warning labels. Caution: Overconsumption of alcohol leads to excessive curiosity and a complete lack of boundaries.

“Well,” I say, forcing a casual shrug, “I can’t say why he never dated. Only that when we ran into each other recently, it was like no time had passed at all.”

Lies. All filthy, delicious lies. And they just keep tumbling out of my mouth, fueled by cheap tequila and the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, if I say it enough, it’ll become true.

“Interesting,” Cam murmurs, leaning back in his chair.

I nod, my head pounding in time with the music. Please, please, let him drop it. I can’t handle another probing question, another well-meaning but ultimately painful observation.

The room spins, and I close my eyes for a moment, willing the nausea away. When I open them again, Cam is still watching me, a thoughtful expression on his face. Great. Just what I need. More scrutiny.

“Did he cheat on you?”

My mouth falls open, and a surprised laugh escapes before I can stop it. Of all the things he could have guessed—alien abduction, sudden-onset amnesia, a secret identity as a ninja assassin—he landed on the one thing furthest from truth.

“Cole?” Cam looks genuinely shocked, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “Cole actually cheated on you back in high school? That’s the only reason I can think of that isn’t insane. Who would cheat on you?” His gaze sweepsdown my body, lingering a beat too long on my cleavage before traveling back up, like it’s some kind of visual explanation.

“Oh, no,” I say quickly, clutching my fresh margarita like a lifeline. The tequila concoction sloshes precariously close to the edge, mirroring the state of my composure. “Cole didn’t cheat on me.”

The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Because, of course, someone did cheat on me. That honor goes to my charming, very-much-not-missed ex, Chad. But I’m not supposed to care about that, am I? Fake dating, fake heartbreak, fake everything.

“Then what happened between you?” Cam presses, his eyes alight with curiosity.

What happened? Well, let’s see. Perhaps it was that Cole was a teenage heartbreaker, all charm and empty promises. What happened was a stolen kiss during a high school party, a whispered confession that meant everything and nothing at all. What happened was my heart getting trampled on, left to bleed out from his rejection.

I sigh, the sound heavy with memories I’d rather forget. “Racing has always been Cole’s only love,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

It’s not entirely a lie. Cole does love racing, with every fiber of his being. But there was a time when I thought maybe, just maybe, I held a close second place in his heart. I was young, naïve, and blinded by the way he looked at me—like I was the only girl in the world who mattered.

Cole really should thank me for not dragging his good name through the mud. Or maybe he should be thanking the tequila. Either way, he should thank me.

Cam nods, a solemn smile on his face. “I get that. When racing is in your blood, it’s hard to make room for anything else—even love.”

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