Page 117 of Play of Love
Chapter 2
Abi
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Istraightened up and tried to look cool. I tried to look like I wasn’t more shocked by Scott’s reaction to that creep. In all the time we’d been together, even when things had been good between us, he’d never reacted like that. When guys hit on me , he used to tell me I should be grateful that people found me attractive.
Then, when things started to get really bad, he’d just about quit acknowledging me as his girlfriend. Actually, no. I was the one that had to make it known, and then I’d feel stupid after, especially if I had to pull some skank away from him or make my declaration that I was with him like I was claiming property.
Scott had been a terrible boyfriend, but just now was… well, I didn’t know. That was a natural reaction I’d never seen in him. It was nothing, I supposed.
All it really was, was a nice gesture which I was grateful for because I hated when men looked at me like that, like they were undressing me with their eyes. And, of course, there was no mistake about it when their eyes immediately went to my breasts, which I knew were big, and always attracted a lot of attention.
When I looked at Scott again, he smiled, and I wondered if he was being truthful about what he had said earlier about missing me.
Did he really?
Again, it was mere curiosity. I doubted, with the way he lived, that he had actually missed me. From what I’d heard and seen since I left him, the man lived and breathed women. It was surprising that he actually remembered me , and that song…
Yes, I remembered that song alright, and I wished I didn’t.
Away,by The Cranberries. It was a song that I’d loved and associated with my relationship with him.Those were the good days, the good years. We had nearly four of those. Nearly four solid years out of the seven we were together were it was pure magic. It was the strength of those years that fueled me to stay with him through the last three years that were hell.
In my naïve, younger mind, I’d labeled that songours. It was always playing in the background when we met up, particularly when we made love. It was hard to think back on those times and hold in the emotion. The truth was that a part of me missed him, too, but it was best that I didn’t acknowledge it.
The waitress came with my toasted rye bread and Scott’s super large plate of what looked like everything on the menu: eggs, bacon, sausages, sautéed potatoes, several slices of toast, grilled mushrooms, and hash browns. It was enough to feed four people and made my little plate of rye toast look like a side dish.
“Abi, what the fuck is that?” He inspected the toast as if it was some sort of alien life form. Disdain filled his blue gaze.
“Rye toast.”
“It looks like shit,” he scowled.
I smirked at him, unable to resist smiling. He always had a way with words and saying things that could make me laugh even when I was well and truly mad at him.
“It’s healthy.”
“You know, I didn’t think this was what you meant when you ordered it.” To my surprise, he called the waitress back. “Can you send this back please?” He pointed to the toast.
“No, it’s fine,” I argued shaking my head at him.
The waitress looked from him to me.
“Like hell. No wonder you have headaches if that’s all you’re gonna eat. Take it back and get her some pancakes and maple syrup. With a little pot of hazelnut chocolate spread, too, if you have it.”
That was what I used to order when we were together. I looked at him, wondering what he could be thinking. He used to tease me when I ordered things like that and tell me it was one sure way to pile on the pounds. Now he was ordering it for me. I allowed the waitress to take the rye toast away.
“Scott, you used to call that kind of food fat food.”
“It’s okay to eat sometimes, it’s definitely better than that shit you ordered. We’re in a diner, doll. Who gets rye toast in a diner?” He chuckled.
“You’re too funny.”
“Glad you think so.”
He started working his way through his feast.
“That is like a mountain of food.” My eyes roamed over his plate.
