Page 35 of Every Broken Promise
I kept looking at Tyler. He wasn’t in a hurry to break eye contact with me either, but I knew he was thinking the same thing as I was because his posture was stiff, and I could see the annoyance on his face.
Ty lifted his head to look at whoever was now talking to him. His face was blank as he stared at them. His arm loosened, and I took this as my opportunity to bolt. I managed to turn around, but before I could take a step away, that arm was once again wrapping around my waist holding me in place.
It was one thing doing it once, and that could almost be chalked up to the fact that I was thrown his way, but this time it felt different.
I couldn’t help the shudder that ran through my body as I felt Tyler’s heat on my back.
His arm was grazing the opposite side of my hip this time. Even if I wanted to move, all I would end up doing would be rubbing my ass against him. I had to stop myself from shifting.
Did he notice how close we were? Was he too drunk to tell?
I felt pressure in my left shoulder. I quickly tilted my head in surprise at how he was acting. His chin rested on me, his face angled to fit in the crook of my neck.
“You guys remember Astrid.” His voice came out husky.
Tyler wasn’t looking at the group. He was looking at me, and I averted my gaze and finally let myself look at my old peers.
Chuckles, catcalls, and snickers were heard simultaneously. I recognized almost everyone. The sweet, poisonous voice came from Carrie Watkins. She was best friends with Samantha Foster, who had been Tyler’s girlfriend for most of our senior year.
I fought the urge to close my eyes and curse myself at my predicament. If Samantha were the president of my hate club, Carrie would be their vice president.
At least now I knew Tyler wasn’t dating Samantha—or I assumed so. Not once had he mentioned her or anyone else. It’s not like I had given him any time to mention anyone, either.
Carrie’s sweet smile morphed into a stank face as soon as she saw me. I had to fight the urge to wiggle my fingers at her—the petty bitch in me wanted to play.
Even if I had the guts to do so, I couldn’t move.
Carrie recovered before I did.
“Didn’t think you’d show your face around here,” she bit out.
Anger surged through my veins.
How long were we all going to cling to things from the past?
“Carrie,” Tyler warned, clearly annoyed that was the first thing out of her mouth.
She looked annoyed for a second but quickly replaced that look and then batted her eyes at him.
“We should go back to my place to finish celebrating.” She smirked at me.
My stomach dropped.
It wasn’t jealousy—it couldn’t be. So what if Tyler was done fucking Samantha and now was doing Carrie. It was the fact that he sounded vexed on my behalf, the fact that he was trying to mend a relationship that had no reason to be mended. It was the knife that, although he might not have stabbed in my back but he made no move to stop it...and after all these years I could still feel the pain.
“Well, now that school is done, it was time to come home,” I spoke clearly and loudly so their nosey asses could hear me over the noise. Like hell if I let them know I couldn’t find a job somewhere else, and that was why I returned.
I brought my hand down to where Tyler was holding on to me, putting my hand on top of his. I could feel his muscles stiffen as I touched him. He didn’t help me out when I tried to remove his hand from my waist.
“It was nice to see all of you,” I lied.
I turned around to face him once I was out of his hold. I don’t know if it was easier to see him or the group, so it didn’t matter at this point.
“Happy Birthday,” I said, giving him a fake smile. “Hope you and Carrie enjoy yourselves.”
Tyler’s eyes hardened, and his jaw went slack.
More laughter and snickering rang out as I pushed my way out of the crowd.
