It was like an enormous tower had come up around her with a drawbridge, a moat full of piranhas, and machine guns on top. Compliments of Tyler, no doubt. I fucking hated that guy. I mean, I hadn’t really been making progress with her before he showed up, but at least she spoke to me back then.
One minute she was sitting in my lap in an Uber and dancing with me, telling me she’d liked me, and the next I couldn’t even get a text back.
I’d played that last night over and over again in my mind, trying to figure out what went wrong.
We’d been slow dancing. I told her not to marry Tyler. She’d obviously agreed I was right about that because she’d gone outside to call him and told him no to his proposal. Then she’d come back in a different person.
She’d made me take her home, cried the whole way there, and wouldn’t let me touch her. Locked herself in her room, kicked me out of her house, and she’d barely spoken to me since.
And I didn’t fucking get it.
This morning I’d sent her a text I knew was risky. But if she wasn’t speaking to me anyway, what was the harm? Things couldn’t get worse. I’d typed the words “I miss you” and stood staring at it for a solid five minutes before I hit Send.
That was three hours ago. She left me on read.
Brandon leaned on his forearms against the concrete railing over the lake, squinting out over the blue-green water. “I hate to say it, but Shawn might be right. Maybe you should see what else is out there.”
I couldn’t even look at him. “I don’t want to see what else is out there,” I said through clenched teeth. “If this was Sloan, would you want to see what else was out there?”
Fuck, if anyone should understand, it should be him. What did it mean that even Brandon was telling me to get over it?
He put his hands up. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. It just doesn’t seem like this situation is getting any better, and I hate to see you chasing someone who’s not reciprocating. That’s all.”
“She’s just not that into you, man. Take the hint,” Shawn said, blowing cigar smoke. “Let me ask you something.” He tapped ash onto the sidewalk. “How many of your hoodies does she have?”
I wrinkled my brow. “None. Why?”
“She’s not into you, bro. Bitches love hoodies. If she’s not stealing your hoodies, she don’t want your ass.”
This thrust me deeper into my dark place. As ridiculous as it sounded, it also rang true. Even Celeste had kept a few of my hoodies at the end and she fucking hated me.
Sometimes I worried Shawn was some sort of idiot relationship savant. Too much of what he said had a convoluted wisdom to it.
This terrified me.
Still, there was one thing. “If she’s not into me, why did she check up on me through Brandon?”
This was weird. The whole time I was gone, she wouldn’t return any of my calls or texts. But then, on day eight of clearing brush, I’d gotten moved to a different firebreak than Brandon. When he got off shift, he told Sloan he didn’t know where I was, and within seconds of Brandon hanging up with Sloan, Kristen started blowing up my phone. It was the only time I’d talked to her. She’d sounded almost desperate to know I was okay.
Of course as soon as she realized I was alive and not burned to death, she hung up with me. But that’s when I realized she’d been using Sloan’s updates to keep tabs on me. Why? Why not just answer one of the many calls I made?
Shawn snorted. “Congratulations, motherfucker. She cares if you die.”
I glared at him. But it wasn’t just that. I caught her looking at me sometimes. Or when we were in bed, she would kiss me when she thought I was sleeping. Even at karaoke night, she was hugging me but she made a lame excuse about it. It’s like she didn’t want me to know she gave a shit. Like she’s pretending.
Shawn jabbed his cigar at me. “This is what you get for being a thirst responder.”
“A what?” I said moodily.
“A thirst responder,” Shawn said, leaning his back against the rail and crossing his legs at the ankles. “A thirsty motherfucker who hits on a bitch the second she’s single.”