settle in at our usual table in the center, and there are a few fresh pitchers and a round of shots, I feel the tension slowly ease out of my shoulders from the long day we had. The group is all a little quieter than usual today. It’s more than likely due to the fact we lost one of the animals today. Dr. Bennett couldn’t revive him during surgery, and after getting Travis and Atticus to help, there was still no hope.
It’s always tough having to tell an owner that their animal didn’t make it. The animal that was like a family member to them; the one they’ve spent thousands on to keep healthy. After we delivered the awful news, the rest of the workday seemed to drag along, and by the expression on everyone’s faces here tonight, I can tell they feel the same. We all need this more than we’d like to admit.
I’m so lost in my own thoughts, as Kassandra and Lucy go back and forth with each other over one of their favorite shows, that I don’t notice who walks into the bar until it’s too late. Once their conversations trail off and I feel a sharp jab on my arm, I shoot a glare at Kassandra. Her gaze isn’t fixed on me, though. She’s staring wide-eyed at the entrance. Slowly, I turn to follow the trajectory of her gaze, and my eyes widen when I realize what had her pausing midsentence.
Roman, who looks as good as ever, walks in with three other guys, all seemingly deep in conversation. I don’t even try to hide the smile that spreads across my face when I see him. Though, it falters the slightest bit, when I remember we’re not exactly friends anymore. If last night was any indication, I’d say he’s getting a thrill out of pissing me off again. The realization is saddening and sobering.
He still hasn’t noticed me yet. Or maybe he has noticed me, and he’s decided to ignore me. When he doesn’t bother looking my way, that seems like the more viable explanation. Whatever the case may be, he seems to be in deep conversation and enjoying himself. I haven’t seen him this relaxed in a while. Not that I’ve been friends with him long enough to know his relaxed side and unrelaxed side. I don’t even bother being discreet as I watch him. I tune out Lucy and Kassandra, my gaze solely focused on him, as I take slow sips of my beer.
He’s so irritatingly handsome and laidback. Dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans with a red and black flannel over a black shirt, he looks like a dark rebel who just demands the attention of the female species. His hair is in perfect disarray, with a few rebellious strands, hanging down over his forehead. I haven’t been able to just sit and enjoy looking at him in a while. For whatever reason, I don’t get that luxury anymore. It doesn’t escape my notice the way the other women here flock to him, all dying for a piece of him. That green flare of envy, of jealousy, fills my veins, yet again. I shift on the seat, uncomfortable with my sudden bout of anger.
“You gonna go over and talk to him or sit and stare all night long?” Atticus taunts, raising his brow in challenge. I pause, wondering if I have the guts to go over there and talk to him, after he’s made it perfectly clear he wants nothing to do with me. Hell, the more I think about last night and the way I acted, the more embarrassed I feel.
“Don’t you have more poetry to write?” I shoot back, knowing he hates it. Everyone who learns his name for the first time asks the same question. “Atticus, like the poet?” Nothing pisses him off more than having to come up with a civil response.
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, Olivia. Very original. Quit being a pussy and get over there.”
“I can’t. He hates me.”
“Oh, just get the hell up already, would you? You’re ruining my view of him anyway with your big head.” I shoot Kassandra a glare, but I end up getting up from the table, so I guess her ploy worked. Wiping my suddenly sweaty hands down the sides of jeans, I inhale a deep breath.