Page 2 of My Secret Bandit

My body heated and the buzz of anger I hadn’t felt in years moved from my chest to my fingertips. Right then I decided two things: she’d never look like that again, and I probably should’ve called Xander.

Tonight could end up real fucking messy.

Sierra’seyesglitteredagainstthe multicolored lights above the dance floor. The heartbreak in them matched mine before she masked it with determination.

“Jamie don’t listen to them,” she warned. “Don’t let them ruin your night. They aren’t worth it.”

I heard her instructions, but as the insults kept coming, my ears accepted them with open arms like a long-lost friend. All the pain-staking years spent building my self-esteem, stripped away by some guy and his friends, all too drunk or careless to understand the damage of their words.

They walked over in a pair, both eyeing Sierra, and I took that as my welcomed cue to head back to our table. Then the taller of the two stopped short. Shaking his shaggy blonde hair, he waved his hands in front of him after giving me a once over.

“Sorry, bro. Can’t do it. I took the big one last week too.” He shook his disgust away. “I’m not doing it again. Bet’s off.”

That, along with the “hippo”, “fatty”, and pig snorts coming from the others perched along the corner of the bar, was a new punch to the gut. And I couldn’t take anymore.

Tears refused to hide any longer.

A toxic mixture of sorrow and anger swirled through my veins. These guys didn’t know me, and yet they were content publicly berating me for their own intoxicated enjoyment.

They couldn’t know how much effort I put into not hating myself. That it took every ounce of courage to even step on this dance floor with Sierra. In an instant, I reverted to my old timid self and let their words leave divots on my already scarred heart without consequence.

I should stand up for myself. I knew that.

But that meant confrontation and added embarrassment; two things I couldn’t handle.

With Sierra guiding me, my face met the smooth fabric of Derek’s white button down, and his arms wrapped around me. He did his best to console me, rubbing soothing circles across my back while I prayed my tear-soaked mascara wasn’t leaving his shirt stained beyond repair.

“I knew I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

Anxiety clawed at me all day, nervous about a dinner with people I loved at a place I’d been to a hundred times before. I should’ve known something would happen, listened to my intuition and avoided all of this.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” he soothed.

Before meeting my friends for our weekly dinner at The Cove, I spent hours procrastinating. I wasted half the day brainstorming an excuse to get out of coming while I spent the other making a rare mess of my house. When I left, jeans, shirts, and dresses littered just about every surface of my bedroom, and a stockpile of barely used cosmetics covered the bathroom counter.

Jeans hugged my hips too tight. Dresses hung like shapeless tents. I knew I wouldn’t find the outfit to coverall my problem areas, but that didn’t mean I wanted to stop trying. Really the only thing that got me out of the door was the memory of my mother telling me to “quit fussin’ and have some fun.”

I moved out of Derek’s embrace, wiping my eyes with the hem of my chiffon cover-up. Useless effort as the thin material did little to absorb any of the wetness.

“Those guys are idiots.” John’s pitying puppy-dog stare met mine over Derek’s shoulder before moving off. “Ah, shit.“ I followed his eye along the line of the worn wooden floor toward the bar until I saw Sierra.

Walking like a woman on a mission, her loose blonde curls bounced as she marched toward the group. The guys, who, in just a few quick minutes, unearthed every insecurity I tried to hide since before I fully understood them.

The memory of the group pretending to be in the middle of an earthquake, holding onto each other and the bar top for support before Sierra led me away from the dance floor, sparked a new set of tears. I swatted them away when a broad, solid body positioned itself between a livid Sierra and the guys still laughing around the bar. Standing at barely five foot two, Sierra looked as small as I’d ever seen her thanks to the man towering over her by more than a foot.

I don’t know when I started walking toward her, but as soon as she stood within reach, I latched onto her hand.

“Sierra, let’s go,” I whispered.

Years of teasing prepared me for moments like this.

When the words cut too deep, I fled.

My defense mechanism to keep even the smallest portion of my heart intact and unscathed.

“Apologize.”

Captivating.

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