Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,76

lip pushes out as emotion engulfs me. But it’s not because I want him back. It’s just because it’s sad that we were once so happy together, and now we’re not.

But I wouldn’t be happier with him.

I walk along the sidewalk and around the corner onto West Argyle where I parked my car.

Weirdly, now I miss Jax more than ever. I’ve been trying so hard not to think about him. But that’s impossible. It’s only been a few weeks, though. I keep telling myself that I’ll get over him, that he was just my rebound. I just have to keep going.

The girls and I are going out for dinner and drinks tonight. I spent the day at school, setting up my classroom. Now I’m home, getting ready to go out. I’m happy to see my friends, but unexcited about going out.

I twirl a few waves into my hair and mess it up, and decide to go all out on the makeup—smoky eyeshadow, lots of mascara, and bright lip gloss. I dress in a new jumpsuit I just bought—black, off-the-shoulder, fitted bodice and loose pants. Then I take the train to Michigan Avenue. We’re meeting at Aster, a rooftop bar near the Riverwalk. As I walk from the train station to the restaurant, I’m acutely aware that I’m only a few blocks from Jax’s place. I have the crazy thought of skipping dinner and dropping in on him.

Ha.

I imagine arriving there and finding him entertaining another woman.

Bleh. A small sharp knife twists in my heart.

I know Jax. I know he likes to date lots of women. I have to accept that.

I take the elevator up to the roof of the building to get to Aster. I’m the first one there, so I let the hostess seat me outside at the table for four. I’ve never been here, and it’s gorgeous—I’m at a table with a couch and two chairs loaded with cushions. A huge lamp sits next to us for when it gets dark. Chicago architecture towers all around us, the views unobstructed by glass walls. Big tubs hold plenty of colorful flowers.

I study the cocktail menu while I wait for my friends. They have drinks that come as a single glass or in a decanter, so I go crazy and order a decanter of a wild concoction of tequila and things I’ve never heard of. And grapefruit. I hope it’s good.

Grace arrives and I jump up to greet her with hugs, then repeat the process when Brielle shows up. The waiter brings us the pitcher of cocktails and the girls are all impressed as immediately drinks are poured for them.

“So, how did it go?” Grace give me big curious eyes.

“With Steve?”

“No, with the mailman.” She rolls her eyes.

I laugh. “It went okay. He’s calmed down.”

“Pfffft. Like he had a right to be angry.” Grace tosses her mass of spirally black hair.

“I suppose. I feel a little guilty for handling it the way I did.”

“You should not,” Brielle says firmly. “You were betrayed. You can handle it however you want.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t take a baseball bat to his Jag,” Grace says.

“Ha ha! You could’ve sold his Jag on eBay!” Brielle says. “That would have been hilarious!”

“Or replace his shampoo with Nair,” Grace adds.

“These are amazing ideas,” I say calmly, taking a sip of my drink. “Is it too late for them?”

“No!”

“I’m kidding.” I smile. “I don’t even care anymore.”

“Really?” Grace studies my face. “You’re okay?”

“I really am.” One corner of my mouth kicks up. “About Steve, anyway.”

“Oh no.” Grace pouts. “Are you still missing Jax?”

I sigh. “Yeah. Seeing Steve weirdly just made me miss him even more.”

Sympathetic silence falls over us for a few minutes. Then Brielle says, “Have you talked to him?”

“Jax? No.”

“Maybe you should.”

I shake my head. “We agreed things would end when we came back to Chicago. He doesn’t do relationships.” I smile glumly. “And neither do I, anymore.”

“Well, I think you should start dating,” Brielle says. “Get yourself back out there.”

“Ugh.”

“Download those dating apps again,” Brielle says.

“I thought I was done with those,” I say with a sigh.

“Come on. Let’s get Tinder on your phone. Hand it over.”

“I can do it.”

“Do it now.”

I laugh at Brielle’s pushiness. “Fine.” I pull my phone out and download the app.

“Okay, let’s look at some options. Start swiping, girl,” Brielle says.

They peer over my shoulder as I scroll through profiles, half-heartedly swiping right on a few of them. Probably nothing will come of it; I’m not exactly the type