Page 18 of Out of the Blue

Despite his requests to the contrary, I remain rigid.Stop crying!“I’m okay. You should go.” My words mingle with another sob.

“Shhh. Come here.” He puts both of his arms around me and pulls me forward.

Because I’m a wuss, I let him bring me to his chest and snuggle into his warmth. Tears I thought were over resurface. With friends. I rationalize we’re tucked away and his band members won’t see us.

“It’ll be alright.” He strokes my back. I relax into him for a fraction of a minute before straightening my spine. “How about telling me what happened?”

His concern oozes out of him. It’s my undoing. “My ex-boyfriend,” I manage to choke out. Then the tears flow again, and he holds me tight against his hard chest.

He runs his hand over my hair, pushing some back and tucking it behind my ear. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

I sit upright. “He’s an important businessman.”

He frowns. “From where?”

“Newark.”

“I’m from next door, in Jersey City. So’s everyone in the band.”

“That’s where he lives.” And where I used to live until four months ago. Nearly five now. Tears continue to fall.

“And what does this so-called important businessman do?”

I hiccup. “He sells used cars.”

“Sounds like a douche to me.”

I lean back against the couch cushions. “He’s not. He does difficult work. Selling cars is hard, you know?”

Trent cocks his head. “Yeah. Because playing in a band is super easy.”

I mull over what he said. “You’re right.”

His lips quirk. “Want to tell me what the douchebag did? Sell your car without your permission?”

For some unknown reason, I smile back. “No.”

He fingers his short dreadlocks, an unusual mixture of black with blonde overtones—natural, as my sister would note—and tugs at the ends. “I know. He ran an ad showcasing your car without your permission.”

My shoulders drooping, I stare at the ugly couch. “I don’t have a car.”

“Yet you were dating a guy who has hundreds on his lot?”

“Yeah. Sort of. His dealership owns them.”

“And Apex owns us.”

I consider his statement. “Well, he does own the cars. And he never gave me one.” He also didn’t give me a diamond ring, but he gave one toher. I sniffle.

“So, I was right. He’s an asshole.” He grins.

I force my shoulders back. “Yeah. He is a big, fat, giant asshole.”

“How long ago did you break up?”

“Four-and-a-half months ago.”

His face pinches and he mutters, “An awful time.” He raises his chin. “You dumped his sorry ass for not buying you a car, am I right?”

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