The line goes dead, and I fall back on my bed with an exasperated sigh. This is a terrible fucking idea. Knowing that, I still start to get ready, grabbing a new oversized sweater dress and slipping it on.
It’s black. Yellow doesn’t bring the same joy it did before.
***
The furious pounding of my heart echoes in my ears, making it impossible to hear Evelyn’s peppy chatter. I smile, nod, and pretend like the nerves aren’t trying to burst out of my chest like the creature fromAlien.
This was a bad idea, made worse by how I don’t feel like me. When I went home for actual Thanksgiving last week,Mom insisted that I do a post-breakup makeover with her. She claimed it was a quintessential heartbreak experience.
I’m not sold on its effectiveness.
The nails and bags full of clothes and makeup were excessive, but I’ll own up to it being well past due to take my braids out and give my natural hair some room to breathe. In all the movies, the heartbroken girl wears her new look like a coat of armor, but I don’t find the same strength. Not only do I have to face my ex today, I’m doing it while cosplaying as something I’m not. The girl dressed in black with dark lips and a thick cloud of tight curls framing her face doesn’t feel like me—even if she is hot.
Cold sweat gathers on the back of my neck as we approach James and Morgan’s apartment, and I swallow back the icy shard of fear clinging to my throat. In the depths of my heart, I know I’m not ready to see Gage again. Remnants of love still cling in hard-to-reach places, waiting to be knocked loose and cause another cycle of pain. This would be so much easier if I hated him—or if he hated me. Our mutual heartache is a recipe for a bad time for all involved. I should leave now,Godzillabe damned. Evelyn knocks before I get the chance to act on the impulse.
James opens the door and greets us both with a warm smile, pulling Evelyn in for a tight hug and then doing the same for me. As if she’s as happy to see me as she is her friend. As if I’m not a tagalong they felt too uncomfortable to uninvite.
“Kori,” Nathan shouts as I step inside.
The blond man hops off the bar chair, raising a glass bottle in the air as he pulls me in for a sloppy hug.
Why are they all so touchy?
Although I don’t hate it as much as I used to.
It’s safe to assume this isn’t his first drink of the evening—or the second. But beyond that, his excitement seems genuine, atleast to me. There’s life in his glassy eyes, making them feel more like a shimmering pool than something glacial.
“How have you been?” he asks with an arm still wrapped around my shoulder.
“I’ve been good,” I tell him.
It’s not a lie, either. Yes, getting dumped sucked, but I’m not the type to dwell on things I can’t change. And I’m sure as hell not going to let one man and his inability to cope consume me. I vented my frustrations to anyone who would listen—and there were lots of them—but over the weeks, my frustration lost its steam, and while my heart is still sad at the outcome of all this, it isn’t broken.
Broken implies there is something that has to be fixed.
“Well, you look good. I wasn’t expecting you to show up and go all Princess Diana’s divorce dress on us.”
“Thank you?” I’m not entirely sure that’s a compliment, but I don’t push back.
Before he can say anything else, another knock raps on the door. This time Morgan is the one who pulls away from the prep happening in the kitchen, stopping only to wrap his arms around his chatting girlfriend and place a quick kiss on the top of her head.
My gaze drops away from the casual display of affection as a dull ache fills my chest. When I look back up, Gage is there—Karis too, but I barely notice her beside the giant of a man. That ache morphs into an uncomfortable throbbing that reaches from my hollow chest all the way to my toes. He’s wearing the same outfit he wore to our first date—black button-up, dark-wash jeans, and those well-worn combat boots he loves so much—and he looks about as uncomfortable as he did in my dorm’s lobby.
Karis pushes past him into the room, but he doesn’t move from the doorway as he stares at me, drinking me in with unbridled desire. I don’t move either. I don’t think I could if Itried. His gaze is a tractor beam locking me in place while he looks his fill.
Well, I can look my fill too.
That lust in his eyes turns into another sort of heat when he notices Nathan’s arm wrapped around me. His nostrils flare as he stomps forward, but the tension shatters as Karis steps between us.
“New girl, you made it,” she says without any attempt at faking enthusiasm.
So maybe everyone isn’t happy to see me. Not that I blame her. At the end of the day, I was the one who made the final call on ending things—I’m the bad guy here.
“Sorry we’re late. Is it time to eat?” she asks our hosts.
“Ask Nathan. He was in charge of the important shit,” James says.
“Yeah, we can eat,” he responds, and his arm falls away as he strolls back into the kitchen.
