I cut him a glare and flip him the bird. “I don’t memorize them.”At least, not all of them.“But I get notified when she has a new post, and her most recent video went viral. I’ve been watching her views steadily climb since last night.”
“So?” Jace shrugs.
“So, she had over a million fucking views, but now it’s just gone.Poof!Disappeared into thin air.”
The Tate I know would die rather than take down a video with that many views.
“Maybe it violated some kind of guideline or something,” Damon suggests.
“Maybe,” I mutter, but I’m not buying it. I watched her video. Several times, if I’m being honest, and there was nothing about it that would’ve gotten flagged.
We should be out right now celebrating. Better yet, we should bein,celebrating at my apartment. Sharing a drink and ordering our favorite junk food, laughing and reading the comments roll in, then plotting her next move and how to capitalize on her newfound success.
Hell, it took everything inside of me not to rush over to her dorm this afternoon, like I was a knight storming a castle, and sweep her up into my arms after I saw it.
The truth is, I’m not just depressed without Tatum. I’m a fucking wasteland. A barren desert, desperate for water. I miss her so much, I can’t fucking breathe. I can barely think. Eat. Play football. I can’t even take a piss without thinking about her and how every single part of my life feels hollow without her.
She’s the oxygen in my lungs, and I’ve been gasping for air ever since she left. Functioning like a normal human being feels like some monumental feat, and I’d give anything right now—fuckinganything—to go back to the way things were.Because I’d rather spend forever in the friend zone with Tate than live a lifetime without her.
“Speak of the devil,” Jace murmurs, and my head jerks in his direction so fast, I almost pull a muscle. “Don’t look now,” he says, his gaze focused on something in the distance, “but Tatum just walked in. With Ethan.”
My entire body stiffens as both West and Damon stare at me like I’m a bomb waiting to go off. Focusing on my breathing, I grip my empty beer glass until my knuckles turn white.
“Stay cool,” Chris whispers, and it feels like he just asked me to scale Everest.
The noise of the bar fades into a dull roar as blood rushes to my ears. My entire body shakes with restraint, as if my heart can sense her proximity and is revving its engine, ready to see her again.
“Is she alone with him?” I ask, managing to keep my voice steady.
“No.” Damon flicks a glance over my shoulder, frowning. “Looks like he’s with a couple other guys. College friends, maybe?”
“She looks miserable,” Chris blurts, before Jace shoots him a warning glare.
“Not helping.” West shakes his head.
“What?” Chris throws his hands up. “It’s true.”
“Shedoeslook miserable,” Damon confirms, his voice dropping low like she might overhear. “She’s standing by the bar, but she keeps glancing at the door like she’s dying to leave.”
“I’m going over there,” I announce, already pushing my chair back.
“Dude, wait,” Damon hisses. “With Ethan right here, that’s a bad idea.”
I throw my hands up. “Well, I can’t just sit here.”
“And what are you gonna say when you get over there?” Chris asks, leaning forward. “Oh, hey, Tate,” he says, in a high-pitched voice that soundsnothinglike me. “I know you said you wanted nothing to do with me and to leave you the fuck alone, but I just couldn’t help myself when I saw you with the prick whose nose I broke a few weeks ago.”
I pound my fist on the table, and our glasses jump. “This is torture,” I bark, barely keeping it together.
I can’t fathom being in the same room with her andnottalking to her. It’s unnatural and goes against every single one of my instincts.
I rub the center of my chest with my palm, wondering if this hollow ache behind my ribs will ever go away. It feels like she carved out my insides with a dull spoon, yet I’d let her do it all again if it meant one more minute with her. I’m desperate. I want to cross this stupid bar, run my fingers through her hair, and ask her how she’s doing. I want to look into her eyes?really look?and make sure she’s okay. Because from what the guys are saying, and from what my gut has been telling me for the past month, she’s not.
Tatum Fletcher is far from okay, and right now, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
“Wait. The guys are doing shots, but she’s leaving,” Jace says, giving me the play-by-play. “Shit, she’s headed this way.” He ducks his head, and the others follow suit while I sit a little taller.
Maybe she’s coming to see me . . .
