Keanna and Bree swarm me like paparazzi. They’re dying to know how my dinner date went, and I don’t even know what to tell them. Tom is nice and a total gentleman, and the food was great, and I had a nice time. But underneath it all, the entire night was ruined because I couldn’t stop thinking about Clay. I must have relived that conversation we had in the garage a hundred times while I was hanging out with Tom. I don’t even remember what Tom and I talked about because I was too preoccupied. I’m a terrible person. I should have focused all my energy on my date.
“It was fun,” I say because the girls want to know something.
“Just fun?” Keanna says, her lips sliding into a frown.
“She doesn’t like him,” Bree says, frowning. “That’s okay, though.”
I shrug. “I don’t even know why he asked me out because it’s kind of weird, you know? He lives so far away from me.”
Bree nods. “It was kind of weird, but oh well. At least you had fun, right?”
“It was fun,” I say again, nodding. I glance across the pool table and lock eyes with Clay. He’s holding a pool stick and waiting on Jett to take his turn. I expect him to look away, but he doesn’t. He just watches me with that deep intensity until I look away.
“Hey, Avery,” Zach calls out from across the pool table. “Where is Tom?”
“He had to help a friend whose truck broke down,” I say, raising my voice over the loud music. “He dropped me off.”
Zach nods. “That sounds like Tom. Always helping people.”
Keanna challenges me to a game of pool, and we take the table next to the guys. I’ve only played pool a few times so I totally suck at it, but I’ll welcome anything that takes my mind off Clay, who is looking absolutely gorgeous right now. He’s wearing dark jeans and a black Henley sweater. Every time I glance up from the pool table, he’s watching me. He’s not even trying to hide it, either.
As the time passes, I get more aggravated. First he says he doesn’t like me, then he says he does. Sometimes he’s cold and scary and sometimes he’s lending me his hoodie. I have to get to the bottom of this or I’ll just drive myself crazy. As soon as Clay walks off to the restroom, I tell the girls I have to pee and then I sneak off and wait for him.
The bathrooms are in the far corner of the bar and no one from Team Loco can see me right now. Good. I don’t need an audience. I just need to figure out what the hell is going on with Clay. When he walks out of the bathroom, I step in front of him, blocking his path. His eyes widen in surprise.
“Avery.”
I hold my head up even though I want to run away. “We need to finish our conversation from the garage.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. “No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.”
The music is so loud that I have to shout just to have a quiet conversation with him. Clay tries to side step me and I move over, blocking him. “Clay… talk to me.”
He swallows. “There is nothing to talk about. I didn’t want you going out with that guy, but you did, and that’s fine. It’s your life. We are just coworkers, so let’s leave it at that.”
He sounds exhausted. Like he’s lost all of that fire he’d had inside of him when he confronted me in the garage. That should be a good thing, but it hurts me. I liked when he was fired up. I liked knowing that he liked me. Now he’s acting like none of that happened.
He shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me an impatient look. I know he wants to leave but he’s being kind enough to wait for me to step out of his way. Yeah, well, I’m not going to do that.
“I don’t like Tom,” I say. “I went to dinner with him because I felt obligated to.”
Clay’s expression hardens. “I don’t care.”
I put a hand on his chest. His gaze drops down to my fingers and I pull my hand away, feeling suddenly so stupid for touching him. “Sorry—” I stutter. “Look, this is weird, I know, but I just wanted to talk to you. It felt like maybe you liked me back in the garage…”
“I don’t.”
His words hit me like a slap in the face. He must notice the pain he causes me because his shoulders sag and he reaches up and lightly touches my cheek. “Avery… I don’t mean it in a bad way. I want to like you, but I can’t.”
“Because I’m an intern?” I say.
His bottom lip drags under his teeth, and he watches me for a few seconds. All around us people are getting drunk and dancing and the loud country music is making the floor vibrate, but I’m only focused on him. “No,” he says finally, answering my question. “It’s because this will never work.”
My throat feels dry. This is the most I’ve gotten out of him since we met. “Why can’t it work?” I ask, wondering if I’m pushing my luck.
He shrugs. “Just forget about me, okay? I’m a lost cause. Let’s not be stupid and try to start something between us that will never work. I’m sorry I talked to you in the garage. That was a mistake.”
