Page 59 of Forbidden

ALDO

My throat is painfully dry, and I wince as I wait outside the gym for Joy. We haven’t really spoken since what went down Saturday night and I can’t take much more. It’s not like she’s been avoiding me or anything. In fact, it’s probably more me avoiding her. My guilt and my issues, driving a wedge between us.

Before Saturday night, I was confident in my belief that I’d be good for Joy—that I was worthy of someone so talented, beautiful, and clever. Then I’d stuck my tongue down the throat of the man who’d torn out her heart and stomped on it, without so much as a second thought.

The doors open and my heart leaps into my throat. “Joy?”

She looks up from her phone and smiles, but it’s not the same smile as before. The way she used to smile at me was lit by the blazing fire inside her, warm enough to allow me to bask in the glow. This smile is guarded. I hate it.

“Everything okay?” she asks, watching as I close the distance between us.

I hike my kit bag higher on my shoulder and clear my throat. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee?”

Her eyes widen in what looks like surprise, and I swear a glimmer of that missing warmth leaks back into her smile. But almost as soon as I think I’ve seen it, it fades away. “Is there a problem with the roster for Seattle?” she asks. “I thought we had things squared away.”

“We do,” I say. “It’s not captain stuff. I just wanted to talk.”

She stares up at me, her beautiful dark eyes unreadable. “Sure.”

I almost sag in relief. “Great.”

We cross campus in silence, and it’s awkward as hell. Joy is the easiest person to talk to and we’ve never had a moment like this between us before, but now I don’t know what to say. It feels like anything I want to say will just push her further away, and I don’t think I can cope with that.

Grinds is, fortunately, pretty empty. The morning rush of early risers desperate for their caffeine fix have already departed for their first lectures, leaving only a couple of people scattered out amongst the mismatched sofas.

“Why don’t you go choose a seat?” I say once we’ve given our orders. “I’ll wait for the drinks.”

She gives me a small smile of thanks and walks away. I note with annoyance that our usual red sofa is taken. Although, I can’t imagine Joy would want to sit in a seat that forces her almost onto my lap. It physically hurts to think that I might have thrown away what we were building together so thoughtlessly.

I’m almost convinced that she’ll choose one of the few high tables and stools, or the breakfast bar that sits across one of the large windows facing out across the common. But she doesn’t. Something eases a little in my chest as she chooses a wide emerald-green velvet sofa that looks cozy as fuck.

I’m so lost in watching her twirl her hair around her fingers while she scrolls through her phone, that I startle when the barista calls out our order. Grabbing the tray with the oversized mismatched mugs, and carefully making my way over, I spot Wes sitting with Sol Brooker, the captain of the lacrosse team, deep in conversation. Wes glances up and I lift my chin in greeting, but he just gives me a tight smile and pushes his glasses up on his nose.

Placing the tray down on the low wooden table, covered in scratches and initials from students long since graduated, I sink into the plush cushions with a sigh.

“Did you know Wes was friends with Sol Brooker?” I ask, glad of something to talk about that isn’t the elephant in the room.

Joy frowns and glances over her shoulder. “No. But aren’t they working on the fundraiser together?”

“Ah, shit. Yeah. That makes sense.” I lean forward and wrap both hands around my oversized cappuccino, trying not to spill it.

Joy puts her phone down on the table and picks up her own drink, leaning back into the cushions and gazing out the window as though she’s perfectly comfortable despite the awkward silence that has settled over us again.

I glare into the milky foam coating my coffee in frustration, deciding I just need to bite the bullet. “Joy—”

“It’s fine,” she says, cutting me off. “I don’t have a problem with it. Honestly.”

I frown, my mouth still open, my half-formed apology on my tongue. “A problem with what?”

“Look,” she says, glancing down at her coffee before flicking her eyes up to me. “I don’t want to be responsible for the reason anyone isn’t happy.”

My brain literally aches. Putting down my coffee, I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying desperately to grab at the threads of this conversation but coming up with nothing that makes sense. “Joy. I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her cheeks flush a little and she lifts her cup higher as though shielding herself. “You and Lane. I thought that was what this was about. That you wanted to see if I was okay with you two dating, or whatever.”

My eyebrows rocket skyward and I’m glad I put my cup down because I would almost certainly have dumped the entire cup on my crotch if I’d still been holding it. “What the heck are you talking about? There is no me and Lane.”

Joy frowns, her perfect lips pressing together until they bleach of color.

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