My voice lowered.
"Aside from sexually."
His mouth thinned.
"I understand what I was to you, but that doesn't mean I didn't get hurt."
I stared at him for a long minute, my heart beating too quickly in my chest.
"I feel like I'm stoned or something.
The way I remember it, we'd hook up after shows, then you'd go about your business.
And if I wasn't there to put out, you'd grab someone else."
He leaned forward.
"Bullshit.
I tried getting you to hang out.
I was always asking you to stick around."
I took a couple of quick, deep breaths to calm myself down.
I could hardly believe that now, almost four years too late, Brett Kline was talking to me like I'd once wanted him to.
We were out in public together, having a meal, almost like a date.
It was messing with my head, which was already confused and scattered because of Gideon.
"I had the biggest crush on you, Brett.
I wrote your name with little hearts around it like a lovesick teenager.
I wanted desperately to be your girlfriend."
"Are you kidding me?" He reached out and caught my hand.
"What the f**k happened, then?" I looked down at where he was absently twirling the ring Gideon had given me.
"Remember when we went to the pool hall?" "Yeah.
How could I forget that?" He bit his lower lip, clearly recalling how I'd f**ked his brains out in the back of his car, determined to be the best lay he'd ever had so he wouldn't bother with other girls.
"I thought we were getting to the point where we'd start seeing each other outside the bar, but you ditched me the minute we got inside."
"I went to the bathroom," I said quietly, remembering the pain and embarrassment as if the incident had just happened, "and when I came out you and Darrin were at the change machine getting quarters for the tables.
Your back was to me so you didn't see me.
I heard you guys talking .
and laughing."
I pulled in a deep breath and tugged my hand away from him.
To his credit, Brett shifted in obvious embarrassment.