on my back.
“Well,” she says. “It looks like you guys have patched things up now. I mean, from the look of things at that dinner table, we got you out of there just in time.”
“Y’all were definitely about to set that room on fire,” offers Olive helpfully.
I laugh, swiping a tear away from my eye. I hadn’t realized I was crying. “He’s pretty fucking sexy. And I think I’m probably way too messed up for him to stick around for long.”
Berkeley backs up a step, giving me a murderous look. “You are one of the strongest, sexiest, most giving people I know. Don’t you dare talk about yourself like you’re not good enough for Drake. You two can be good for each other.”
Greta nods, agreeing wholeheartedly.
They might be right. But they don’t know. They don’t know how truly black my soul is on the inside. What happened to me all those years ago changed me. I know that I can never come back from it, no matter how well I fake it for my friends. I’m so broken inside that the second Drake is with me in that way again, with all of our new emotions on the table, he’ll know.
And he’ll never want to be with me again. He’ll be utterly disgusted.
I can’t get caught up in all the physical heat between the two of us. Because when that day comes, and he walks away from me without looking back because of what I’ve been through, I’ll break into so many pieces I don’t think I’d be able to put myself back together this time.
When we finally make it back to the table, our food has arrived. Clearly Drake listened to what I said about the salad, because the most delicious looking shrimp Cobb salad is sitting at my place. There’s also a steaming loaf of bread for us to pass around, and my sangria is just waiting for me to gulp it down.
“Thank you.” My tone is honest and open as I look at Drake.
He seems to understand that I’m thanking him for more than just paying for my dinner. He meets my gaze, and his arm goes around the back of my chair. His fingers gently graze my shoulder, and I’m introduced to a brand-new awareness, one I only know when I’m with Drake Sullivan.
Safety.
“You’re welcome.”
I dig in just as everyone else does, and dinner is almost over when I glance up from my food randomly just for a second. I see a familiar-looking blonde walking past our table with her date, and when our gazes meet she frowns slightly, and then her eyes widen. Stopping beside my chair, she exclaims loud enough for the whole table to hear.
“Mea? Mea Sanchez?”
Every single muscle in my body freezes, including the ones that work my mouth. I just stare at the girl, having no clue who she is or how she knows me by that name.
“Um…” Great. And now I sound like a complete idiot. The rest of the table is staring as well, at either the unknown girl or me.
“That’s not…not my name,” I stammer, finally.
And then I pray, I pray with everything inside of me that she’ll just walk away.
13
Drake
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mea’s face as drawn or pinched as it is right now. And there’s a distinct terror in her eyes that makes me want to stand up and get her out of there. I don’t know who this chick is, but she’s shaking my girl up. And I don’t like it.
The blonde waves a flippant hand, like what Mea just said doesn’t mean shit. “Please.” Her drawl is distinctly southern, but not from Georgia or Carolina like I’m used to. It’s a different dialect for sure. “It’s not like there were many Sanchezes growing up in Kentucky. And I’d know your face anywhere.”
Greta’s mouth drops open at the girl’s bigoted rudeness, and Berkeley makes a move to push back from her seat. I see Dare strong-arming her to stay seated.
The girl’s rudeness snaps Mea out of her obvious shock and she stands. “I’m sorry, I’m not as familiar with you as you seem to be with me. Where do we know each other from?”
The girl plasters on a fake smile as she sizes Mea up. “Oh, yeah, I guess I’ve changed a lot since middle school. We went to school together in Kentucky. And then, right after freshman year started, and your family…” The girl trails off, but her gaze is calculating, not