Page 29 of Craving the Player

The hand once held in Braden’sslaps against my thigh as he drops it and steps back. His brows are scrunched between his eyes as he avoids eye contact, opting to stare down at the concrete instead. The silence continues to grow, acting like abarrier between us that I’mextremely grateful for.

Wanting nothing more than to get away from here and end this little charade, Isay, “Thank you. You didn’thave to do that.”

He straightens his back and looks at me again. The softness Isaw back in the restaurant is long gone, replaced only by afamiliar, vacant stare. “No worries. You looked uncomfortable.”

“That obvious?” Ilaugh lightly, unable to keep it to myself. When his lips stay pulled in atight line, Ifeel another wave of embarrassment wash over me.

“Like Isaid, don’tworry about it. You shouldn’tlet people talk to you like that.” His eyes dart around the parking lot. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. With me. “My mom’sactually still inside, so . . .”

“Right.” Inod. “Ineed to go anyway. My car’sstill at work.”

“Yeah. Iheard it’sgoing to rain. Might want to hurry.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders tight.

Inod again. “Iguess I’ll see you around, then?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you around.” He turns and walks back inside seconds before Ifeel the first raindrop splatter across my forehead.

Ithink that sounded an awful lot like goodbye.