Page 54 of Personal Foul
“I have. We actually came here together.”
My eyes bounce between my mom, over to my dad, who gives me a knowing smile. He doesn’t say anything further, and I’m grateful. I don’t exactly wish to have this conversation here, going on about how he “told me so.”
“Oh, good, honey. I’m so glad to hear you have been spending time together.”
“I had to step away to take care of a few things though. Where did you see him?”
“He was off to the side over there.” She points to the other side of the room, near the stage where we entered from.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see if I can find him. I’ll see you two back at our table shortly.”
Grabbing a glass of wine from the tray as a waiter passes by, I weave my way through the crowd of people. Most are standing in small groups, chatting. Some are dancing or eating hors d’oeuvres.
Once I get through the cluster of people, I’m able to spot Colson standing off to the side where my mom mentioned seeing him. His back is facing me, his head tilted down talking to a woman. She looks like she’s about my age, maybe a year or two older. Her long blonde hair is curled in ringlets.
What stands out to me is how she’s wearing a green dress, an odd choice of color to wear to an event supporting the Miami Blaze. While it’s not written anywhere, most of the women attending would stick to red, black, or white in support of the organization.
I get a sneaking feeling she isn’t meant to be here, especially when I notice the way Colson’s shoulders tense, his jaw set with his hands in his pockets. He looks so different from the Colson I’ve gotten to know over the past few months.
He looks angry, hardened, and it’s a side of him I’d never want to see.
“Hey.” I slide up next to him, running my hand over his back. I ignore the girl in front of him, keeping my focus on him and what’s bothering him.
Colson’s head snaps in my direction, and I can’t help but feel like I interrupted something I wasn’t privy to.
“Hi,” the girl greets. Her voice sounding so sweet it practically oozes. To the point my lip curls in distaste at how fake she comes off. “You must be Sydney.”
My jaw clenches, the old Sydney creeping in. The one who grew up around girls just like her, who made it their mission in school to put me down and embarrass me, pointing out in every way how they were better than me or how I didn’t belong.
Only now, things have changed. I’m not the same quiet and lonely girl anymore, and I certainly am not going to let her put me back in that place either.
She reaches her hand out toward me, intending to shake it, but I don’t move. Something tells me the gesture isn’t the least bit sincere.
“Is everything all right here?”
She forces a fake smile. Her teeth looking shockingly white, highlighting the stark contrast between her smile and her fake, orange tan.
“Of course! I’m an old friend of Colson’s from Chicago. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. We were just catching up.”
My eyes bounce between Colson back to the blonde Barbie, analyzing the two of them together. Immediately my mind goes to wondering who she is to him and if they’ve ever been intimate. Jealousy creeps in, and I hate how I’m sitting here picking apart each of her features, one by one, mentally cataloging all the ways she and I are so different.
“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“Molly.”
Ugh.Even her name grates on my fucking nerves.
“That’s interesting,” I mutter. Colson reaches out to slip his fingers between mine. “He’s never mentioned you before.”
I sense Colson’s body ease some. He must know, regardless of what this chick is going to try, say, or do, I’m not going to let her think for a minute she’s fazed us.
“Is that right, Cole?”
My nostrils flare at her attempt to use a pet name with him.
“Molly, I think it’s best if you leave. It was nice to see you,” he says, sending my head snapping in his direction. The expression on his face is unreadable, blank, hard.
Any sign of being pissed or frustrated before is gone, and it almost makes me angry.
