Page 85 of Collision
He hands me the steaming mug and sits down across from me.Then he slides the saucer with the muffin across the table and I realize it’s pistachio. “It was the last one. I know you like pistachio,” he states casually, rubbing the nape of his neck where his hair is cut short. It’s clear that he’s trying to downplay this uncharacteristic courtesy. My mouth drops open in surprise, but I decide to pretend that the gesture has no effect on me whatsoever and just thank him instead.
“So, I heard you started working at the Marsy. How are you liking it?”
I tell him how many mugs I had to fill before I learned how to properly pull a tap beer. I complain about how hard it was at first to carry several plates at once and how much I detest dressing up like a cheerleader.
As we chat, a curly-haired girl with amber skin walks past our table. She casts a sly glance at Thomas, who either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to notice. “Hi, Thomas,” she calls.
“Hi…” he answers uncertainly, his eyes half-closed as if trying to dredge her name up from his memory.
“Nancy,” she says, irritated. “Two weeks ago you tattooed my sister’s name on my wrist, and then took me to the backroom to get to know each other.”
I am not surprised to hear that something happened between the two of them, although it does sting a little. But what really amazes me is something else: I had no idea Thomas did tattoos.
“I have lots of sex. With lots of different girls.” He takes a sip of his coffee, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and continues. “I can’t remember every one of you. What do you want?”
And here we have Thomas Collins, the primordial bastard version. The girl looks mortified and, although I don’t know her, I can’t help but empathize with her. I get it, it’s hard not to fall into Thomas’s trap. This is exactly why I will never cross the line with him again. I can’t imagine being treated like that by someone with whom I had shared the most intimate part of myself.
“So?” Thomas prompts her irritably, without the slightest bit of tact.
From the furious expression on Nancy’s face, I could swear thatshe’s thinking seriously about pouring a cup of hot coffee all over him. Honestly, he would deserve it. But, in the end, she just chooses to walk away, shooting him a look filled with hatred. Thomas turns to me with an imperturbable shrug. “Where were we?”
“Did you have to treat her like that?” I frown, crossing my arms over my chest.
“It was the only way to get rid of her. We had a good time, but that’s where it ended.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Wait, so you did remember her?”
“I remember them all. Some more than others.” He winks at me. I try not to blush.
“If you remembered her, then why did you humiliate her like that?”
“Because otherwise she wouldn’t have left so easily, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with a pain in the ass. Is that a good enough answer for you?”
I bite my lip, ready to deny it. But even though it’s wrong, a part of me is pleased to know that he would rather interact with me than spend time talking to someone else. Although I still don’t like the way he went about it, I choose to bite into my muffin and, instead of answering, I change the subject.
“How’s Leila? I haven’t seen her in a while.” It’s not that I blame her for what happened with Travis. In fact, I’m grateful to her for being honest. But I haven’t seen her since that night, partly by accident, partly because I try to avoid her so as not to relive my humiliation when I look into her eyes.
“Ever since she started working for the paper, she’s been off my radar. She’s started to climb the ladder and now she’s convinced she’s the next Mika Brzezinski.”
I laugh under my breath. More for the fact that he knows who Mika Brzezinski is than for the comparison itself. “I’m glad she was able to join the staff. I’ll be eagerly awaiting her first article.” I clasp my hands around my coffee cup to warm them.
“You’ll be the only one, believe me,” he says, annoyed.
I smack him on the arm. “You’re her brother, you should be hernumber one fan!”
But I don’t hear his reply because I catch sight of Logan at the counter. He is giving us a confused look. I wave hello but as soon as Thomas turns to look and notices that Logan is coming toward us, the smile fades from his lips.
“Is he coming over here?” he asks, annoyed.
“I’m gonna say yes.”
Thomas glares at me. “I don’t want him here.”
What?
“We’re dating, Thomas, I can’t stop him from coming to see me.” My reply seems to irritate him.
“Are you actually serious about Logan?” he exclaims, disgusted. “You don’t know shit about him.”
