Standing, I grab my keys and jacket, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach that feels suspiciously like excitement as I head for the door.
Chapter 17
BRANDON
Ispot her through the steamy window before I even enter Java the Hutt. My heartbeat is suddenly a wild drum in my chest as I watch her, tucked away at her usual corner table, her black hair falling forward as she stares into her mug like it might contain the answers to questions I haven’t even asked yet.
I pause with my hand on the door handle, as I note every little detail. The way she absently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The slight furrow between her brows. The untouched pastry beside her coffee. All the familiar Tatum-isms that I’ve missed desperately for over a week.
If this is what little more than a week without Tatum in my life feels like, I don’t want to know what it’ll be like when she transfers schools—ifshe transfers.
I take a deep breath and push inside.
The little bell above the door announces my arrival with cheerful indifference, a contrast to the tension coiled inside me. A few heads turn, but not hers. She’s somewhere else mentally, and I hate to think of where—that it might be with Ethan, when what I really need is her right here with me.
I bend down and slide an arm around her shoulders in a half hug, breathing her in like an addict. I hate to think what I would’ve done had she not agreed to meet me for coffee. It feels like so much has happened since she fled my apartment, and all I want is to soak up her presence like sunshine, basking in her light.
“Hey,” I finally say, releasing her and sinking down into the chair opposite hers. “So, how’s your week been?”
She shrugs. “Good. Yours?”
Hell. This week has been pure hell.
“Are you avoiding me?” I blurt out and instantly wish I had a little more decorum. “I mean, I hope you’re not still freaked out about the last time we hung out. I swear—”
“It’s fine, Brandon,” she cuts me off. “Can we just forget it?”
I nod, staring at her for a moment as I try and assess what she’s thinking. She’s wearing a silky blouse that brings out the purple in her eyes, jeans every bit as dark as the raven locks spilling over her shoulders, and a tentative smile. But something’s changed since I last saw her—something subtle—and I’m not sure what.
I force a smile, pretending the distance in her voice and her eyes doesn’t bother me. “So, I heard from Brit that you went to meet Ethan’s parents last week. How’d that go?”
I hate myself for asking. I hate even more that I’m praying like hell she’ll say it was a disaster. That his mom hated her or his dad asked invasive questions. That she realized the whole time she’d rather be with me.
“It went really well, actually.” Her eyes light up for the first time since I sat down. “His mom made this amazing dinner. We talked about books and Christmas break. They were actually pretty great,” she says, and she sounds like the statement has surprised her.
“Oh.” The word falls from my lips like a stone as I nod and stare down at my coffee. “That’s . . . great.”
I wrap my hands around the mug, grateful for something to hold onto while my world tilts sideways. I shift in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the weight of the truth burning in my throat, threatening to choke me if I don’t let it out.
Tatum tilts her head, concern flickering across her features. “You okay?”
I inhale and meet her eyes. Those eyes that have seen me through everything over the years. The ones that I picture every night in my dreams.
“No,” I admit, my voice barely audible over the coffee shop chatter. “I’m not, actually.”
She frowns. “What is it? Is it football?”
Football? She thinks I feel like I’m dying inside because of a fucking game?
It would be easy to let her think that. To push past this and carry on like we always have because I’m too damn afraid to lose her.
Because the truth is so much bigger than football. The truth is that everything is wrong because she’s sitting across from me talking about Ethan’s parents while I’m dying inside. Because by planning a future with him, she’s erasing mine.
Because newsflash—there is no universe that exists without Brandon and Tatum. Hard stop.
“I need to tell you something,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry. My heart pounds so hard I swear she must hear it. “I actually went to tell you Wednesday night after practice, but then I found out you were gone and . . .”
I swallow, raking a sweat-dampened hand through my hair.
