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“I wasn’t planning on cock-blocking him,” I declare loudly enough to attract the attention of all of Cass’s friends.
Cass and I are seated at the end of the booth that curves around the semi-circular table. I’m sandwiched between Cass and one of her co-stars, Tristan, as Cass went to the ladies’ room and refused to reclaim her seat.
Despite her comment earlier today about not pushing me to date, I have the feeling she’d like nothing more than for me to hit it off with Tristan. For the first hour, his behaviour bordered on flirtatious, but I think he’s finally given up because of my obvious disinterest. Ever since I realised Ben was here, I’ve been too busy being angry and glaring to be charmed by Tristan’s smile and one-liners.
“What do you think is going to happen if you go over there all grouch-like and start telling him off?” Cass asks.
I haven’t thought much past walking over there and giving him a piece of my mind. Is there anything wrong with winging it?
“Let me get you another white wine,” Cass offers. “Forget about Ben and listen to Tristan tell you about the time he met Sir James McConack.”
As Tristan looks set to fill me in on the funniest moment of his career thus far, I hold up my hand, halting him before he can begin. “Hold that thought. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I’m already moving to get out of the booth. Cass doesn’t have any other choice but to let me out unless she wants to get trampled and squashed during my exit from the booth. With a sigh, Cass reluctantly gets up and I shuffle past her quickly.
Cass puts her hand on my arm before I walk away. “Go easy on him, Lainey. He’s not doing anything wrong.”
“I’m just going to ask him why he never replied to my texts.”
My confidence is at an all-time high as I march over. The white wine has gone to my head and filled me with courage and determination I don’t usually possess. I’m wrapped in a tingly, warm cocoon and I feel invincible. Well, I do until I’m standing right beside Ben and I realise I’m going to have to actually interrupt his tongue duelling session with Crazy Hair if I want to talk to him.
I wait for a short while to see if they’ll stop on their own, but it becomes clear pretty quickly that they’re lost in each other and not coming up for air anytime soon. Taking a deep breath and my life in my hands, I tap Ben on the arm with my index finger and wait for him to stop.
He doesn’t.
Fuelled once more by my anger over how easily he seems to be able to ignore my presence tonight, I tap on his arm much harder. The moment he stops kissing Crazy Hair, I open my mouth to give him an earful. However, every hot angry word and barb I’ve prepared for this moment dies on my tongue when he fixes me with a glare. There’s a flush slashed high across his cheekbones. His eyes are as black as onyx, framed by long eyelashes and the dark hair hanging over his forehead—hair he clearly hasn’t cut since well before the breakup. I don’t know why, but the sight of him like this hits me like a punch to the gut. I must have missed him more than I thought.
“Hi?”
My greeting comes out as a question, a testament to the fact I’m not nearly as comfortable or certain as I was a second ago.
Ben’s companion is the first to respond. “And you are?”
“Lainey,” I say, my gaze never leaving Ben’s.
He really doesn’t look pleased to see me. I wish I knew why. I wish I knew what I’d done to make him dismiss me as if we hardly know each other.
Maybe I’m just part of a bad memory he wants to forget, relegated to history along with Amber and Lucas, never to be dwelled upon again.
“Kind of busy here, Lainey,” Ben grunts.
I turn to Crazy Hair before looking back at Ben. “Um, yeah. I can see that.”
“So I’ll catch you later, yeah?”
Doubtful. I’m now certain he’s cut me out of his life the way he cut Amber and Lucas out. Maybe I shouldn’t really be surprised, but I am. Surprised and hurt. The right thing to do now, I suppose, is walk away and leave him to go back to doing what he was doing. But some masochistic part of me wants to force him to admit he doesn’t want to keep in touch.
“If you didn’t want to keep in touch, you could have just replied to my texts and told me. I would have dealt with it.”
“What?”
“You could have replied to my texts instead of—”
“What texts?”
“The texts I sent to you about catching up.”
His face is completely blank.
