Page 17 of Between the Blue
“What do you want from me?” he asks, a harsh grit to his voice.
I lean back, meeting his gaze and raising my brows. “Uh…pickles?” I say, pointing up at the correct jar.
I watch as his jaw flexes, his eyes not leaving my own.
I swallow hard. “You know,” I say, my voice low, “I could ask you the same. Or, more so, what have I done to make you wantnothingto do with me?”
He doesn’t respond, his teeth only clenching harder. I want to question him further, but don’t get a word out before he’s taking another step forward, his hand landing on my hip.
My heart drops, suddenly feeling like it’s beating in my lower belly.
And then his fingers dig in, pinching just slightly as he somewhat roughly shoves me to the side, pushing me out of his way so he can reach up for the shelf above me.
My throat goes dry, and I don’t even register it at first when he shoves a jar into my hand, too focused on the sizzling sensation his hand left behind on my lower waist.
“Word of advice,” James breathes, so close to me now that I have to lean back to meet his eyes. “I’m better as someone you have nothing to do with.”
And then he’s gone, taking his cart and leaving me alone in the aisle.
I stand there long enough that every emotion imaginable runs through me.
Finally, my body feels capable of movement again, and I shake my head. I grab my cart, setting the jar of pickles down in it and pulling up my list on my phone again as I try to shake off possibly the oddest encounter I’ve ever had.
But then my eyes catch on something. A blur of red.
And I’m reaching for the jar I just put in the cart. The jar of pickles James got for me from the top shelf.
Except they’re not my pickles.
Because they’re cherries.
five
HIM, THIRTEEN YEARS AGO
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
I wonder where she is.
“Did you see that? Man, that’s bullshit.”
I wonder what she’s doing. What she’s like.
“There’s no way that was a penalty. What do you think?”
It sounds insane, I know it does. I don’t even know her. But she’s all I can think about since that night.
“James?”
Julia. Julia. Julia.
“Bennett, look alive would you?”
A hard shove against my shoulder brings me back to reality. My eyes catch Rhett’s on the couch next to me.
It’s a Friday night and I’m over at his place to watch tapes of our recent games. Probably seems like a lame weekend plan, but it’s what we do. At least we’re doing it with beer.
I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else on a Friday.
