Page 34 of Forget Me Not

“Oh, you have no idea.” He doesn’t know how sarcastic I’m being, but I play along. Once you start a story about your past, you have to sell it.

A minute later, we’re standing in line at a keg. I try not to let my nervousness about so many people show. I don’t normally drink and if the other night was a warning for me, I probably shouldn’t, but I need a buffer to handle this crowd.

“Tyler fucking Jarman.” A guy’s voice comes from behind me and I whip around to see who it is.

“Hey, Nelson.” Tyler beams as he slaps his hand into the guy’s open palm. “How you been?”

“Not bad. Not bad. I heard you moved back. What the hell, man? You were so fucking excited to get out of this shithole.” As the words leave his mouth, his eyes land on me. The guy named Nelson shoots a thumb toward me, now looking at Tyler with questioning eyes.

“And who do we have here?” He seems a little drunk as he looks between Tyler and me.

Tyler laughs. “Nelson, meet Rhea. Rhea, meet Nelson.”

Nelson extends his hand to me, and after looking at it for a good thirty seconds as I read his demeanor, I lay mine in it and shake.

“It’s nice to meet you.” He seems like another nice country boy like Tyler. I hate that I’m so skeptical with people, but it comes with my upbringing.

“Likewise.”

We’re joined in the line by a girl, probably about the same height as me, maybe half an inch shorter. She’s got long blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, and she’s wearing a solid white fur coat. A little different than what I’d expect out here, but it does look very warm.

“Christine,” Nelson says, “this is Tyler’s friend, Rhea.”

Christine, taken aback by the introduction, looks at Tyler, dumbfounded, while paying me zero attention. “Does Tamara know about this?”

Tyler scoffs. “Why would she?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Christine grumbles. “Maybe because you were sleeping at her house three days ago.”

My eyes widen, face drawn back, and it’s apparent there’s a lot I don’t know, or care to know. “Look,” I say point-blank. “Tyler and I are just friends. We work together. There is absolutely nothing going on between us.”

“Sleeping at her house doesn’t mean I was sleeping with her,” Tyler snaps back. “There are twenty other girls that live in that house. They threw a party and I had too much to drink—”

I grab Tyler’s arm, cutting him off. He sure as shit doesn’t have to explain himself for my sake, and I won’t let this girl bully him into thinking he owes her anything. “You don’t have to explain yourself to these people. Let’s just get our drinks and have some fun.” I push myself up on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear, “Unsafe, remember?”

He nods, awareness washing over his features. He shakes his head, as if to banish the excuses floating around his brain. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“These people?” Christine stammers. “We happen to be Tyler’s friends, unlike you, who claims to just be a co-worker. And his ex, Tamara, is my best friend.”

“Congratulations,” I deadpan as I tug Tyler in the appropriate direction toward the keg and away from these naysayers.

“Excuse me!” Christine huffs as she trails behind us. “I don’t like your attitude.”

I spin around, the toes of my shoes digging into the dirt. “Oh yeah? Seems like you’re asking for more of it. Why are you following me?”

I’m not a fighter, but I’ve fought, and I’m sure as fuck not opposed to wiping that smug look off this bitch’s face with my fist.

“Because you walked away when I’m still talking, which is not only disrespectful, it’s also cowardly.”

I laugh airily. “Cowardly? Girl, you don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“Probably best.” She looks at her freshly-painted nails. “Because I’m sure if I did, I wouldn’t like you much.”

I step up to her, nose to nose. “Well, I don’t know you and I already think less of you than the dirt everyone here is walking on.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tyler singsongs as he pulls me down a peg. “Let’s just part ways and have a good time.”

I glower at Christine, challenging her to say one more word, as my fists ball into tight knots at my sides. Her eyes travel to them, taking note of my offensive stance. “Oh, you wanna fight?”

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