Page 29 of Could Have Been Us
Tripp and Easton get up, leaving for the bar to get another round or talk how they think they’re going to get laid, who knows, and Winnie flops down beside me. “I owe you.”
“That’s an understatement, my friend.”
“I really like him.”
“Easton? Really?”
“I know, he’s kind of a dork, but he’s sweet, and it’s been a really long time since I’ve gotten laid.”
I laugh because no matter how long she’s gone, I’ve got her beat. It’s not that I don’t have offers or that I haven’t hooked up with guys here and there, but it never goes further than that. It’s not that I don’t lie and pretend that I’m getting it constantly. It’s that I can’t seem to get myself there. I’m terrified of getting pregnant again. I’m more afraid that I won’t feel like I did that first time.
Safe. Loved. Needed by a man who cared for me.
Jack.
As though we’re planets, being pulled by a force greater than us, our eyes meet.
A million things go through my mind. Things I wish I could tell him.
I love you.
I need you.
I’m sorry for everything. Please, let’s try . . . just try. Love me, I’m right here.
But those things will never be spoken because Jack doesn’t love me. He doesn’t want me or need me.
Winnie looks up at me. “Hey, Stell?”
“Yeah?”
She looks over at Easton, her bottom lip between her teeth. “I think I’m going to be leaving in a few, but are you okay to drive?”
“Yes, why?”
“I think . . . I won’t need a ride.”
“Be safe,” I tell her.
“I will.”
“Call me tomorrow so I know he didn’t kill you with an ax and bury you in the woods somewhere.”
Winnie laughs. “Well, hopefully he’ll kill me in another way.”
I roll my eyes. “Please, if he had those skills, you wouldn’t have a chance with him. The girl before you would be dying in his bed tonight.”
Winnie grins as she stands. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Yeah, I’m sure she won’t.
She heads over toward Easton, and I take this moment to head into the bathroom and splash water on my face, grateful I can tell Tripp to get lost and head home. There’s a pint of ice cream and a book waiting for me on my ereader. My favorite author released this week, and I’ve been dying to see if the heroine forgives the hero from the last book.
I nearly groan as I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are puffy, the shade of blue under my eyes does nothing to help, and I look like shit. Seriously, I should’ve stayed the hell home tonight.
Well, no time like the present to do just that.
I exit the bathroom and slam into someone. “I’m sorry!” I say quickly as I stagger back, but a pair of arms wrap around me.
