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I talk too much, I smile too much—way, way too much for him. This is why I’m here. I am definitely not emotionless enough for him to even just sleep with for fun. Not that that’s what I want. But also, not that I haven’t thought about it.
AndI’mhere to be more like Locke. So, I need to pull myself together.
Of course, that plan goes to shit when I step back into the restaurant and weave my way through the bar only to have Russ swivel on his barstool from out of nowhere and trap me with his arm.
“Maren,” he greets me, placing a kiss on my cheek so quickly that it shocks me into a coma. Technically, not a hello. “You’re the last person I thought I’d see here tonight.”
He smells like whiskey, and I instinctively look around—either for Craig or Lydia, I’m not really sure.
The bar area is small, with the typical liquor bottles lining the back wall on glass shelves and a sleek wooden counter. The murmur is dull around us, but enough to make me feel unseen.
“Craig will be here in a minute,” he says.
“Oh, okay,” I finally say. “I should get back then. It was good seeing you.”
His grip tightens on my waist. “So, you’re… with him now?”
I don’t miss the inflection in his voice. He was about to accuse me of sleeping with him before he attempted to reel back his jealous tone. I made Russell work for it, so I think he knows I wouldn’t be having sex with Locke already. Unless maybe it makes him madder that maybe this is something I’m doing just for fun.
My eyes spring to our table, which is in perfect view from here, where I find Locke already staring at us with no emotion. He looks away to say something to Graham like he couldn’t care less.
No one cares, and I hate myself that I just want Russ to care about me. It can’t be that much to ask someone who you spent years of your life with, even if you’re no longer together, to care about your feelings. That’s not a wild request.
“It’s not like that,” I say in a lame attempt to defend myself. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Not like what?” he laughs. “Like you’re sleeping with him to get back at me?”
Everything I could say sits on the tip of my tongue.
We’re not even friends.
We’refakefriends.
I’m entertaining his obligations, which are coincidentally people, because he doesn’t want to be here, let alone be here with me.
He’s only trying to help me not feel likethis.
It would all be the truth, but I get it now—what Locke is trying to say. It doesn’t matter what I tell Russ, he’s not going to believe me. He’ll believe what he wants to believe, which is that I’m on some petty road of revenge-fucking his rival.
And I’m quite certain there’s more to that story that Russell never even confided in me about.
My phone chimes.
Hottie Icicle
Do you need help?
Russ scoffs and briefly turns to Locke. “Checking up on you?”
Locke’s eyes don’t leave mine, and I shake my head a millimeter.
Big girl pants, Maren.
“Russ, you’re allowed to believe whatever you want because I don’t think I can change your mind,” I say, channeling my inner Locke. I think he’d probably sound harsher but it’s all I have in me.
Russ cocks an eyebrow, anger flushing through his cheeks. “You know he doesn’t do relationships or girlfriends, right? He’ll get tired ofyoueven faster than usual.”
I blink back the tears that are trying to squeeze through. Okay, I lied. I need help. Russ knows how to strike where it hurts the most. When I frantically search for Locke, he’s no longer at the table. Probably tired of sitting at the table by himself for too long and mad at me for leaving him. Maybe he escaped to the comfort of the bathroom to be alone in peace.
