Brandon sweeps out of the ring and over to the bench for Tucker to untie his gloves. “You agreed. And as I recall”—his eyes flit to mine—“younevergo back on your word.”
My stomach is tied to a sinking anvil.
He’s right. I promised.
I’m going to be stuck with him during work hours,andafter.
Brandon prowls toward me, hands now free, with a gloating smile on that annoyingly handsome face of his.
“Aren’t you excited?” he says.
I force myself to meet his gaze. This isn’t the first time Brandon has used my attraction against me, but I promise myself this will be the last.
So I nod, then plow my glove back into his stomach where it belongs.
eight
PAST
BRANDON
It’s like I’ve been punched in the gut. It’s been two weeks, and Kate hasn’t replied to my texts. Nothing. And the worst part? I still can’t get her out of my head. Can’t rid myself of her pretty profile beside the water’s edge at Promontory Point.
I snap my art history book closed, and the sound booms through the silent library.
Tuck startles across the study table. HisPrinciples of Bioenvironmental Engineeringtextbook is splayed beside his scribbled notes.
Julia blinks up like a blue-eyed doe over her laptop where she’s been silently obsessing over a re-design for her graphic design class.
“What’d you do that for?” Julia grumbles, and I almost laugh at the annoyed pinch in her brows. A tiny smile kicks up the corner of Tuck’s mouth, since he enjoys getting a rise out of Julia as much as I do. How else are we supposed to loosen up the uptight, anxious girl who marched into our fifth grade class and deemed herself in charge of us?
“Brandon,” Julia whispers, alarm growing as she reads my expression. “What’s going on?”
A haughty girl at the adjacent table turns to shush her but stops when her eyes catch mine. Pink creeps up the girl’s cheeks. My knee-jerk reaction is to shoot a roguish smile, so I do before following it witha curt nod before turning away. I open my textbook with a sigh and try to remember which page I was on.
“Yeah, what’s with you?” Tuck leans forward, resting the arms of his red University of Illinois Chicago hoodie on the table. My best friend could easily belong in some outdoorsy family sitcom. Perpetually cheery smile, insatiable thirst for adventure. He keeps his brown hair faded on the sides but a bit longer on top. I say he keeps it that way because his hairline is starting to recede, and then he usually tries to kill me. Poor guy is destined to be bald if he has even a fraction of his Dad’s DNA.
The thought of father-son relationships knots in my stomach, and a familiar wave of anger heats my blood. I wouldn’t know a trait of mine to attribute to my own father if it punched me in the face. Usually you have toknowsomeone to hate them, right?
Wrong.
I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that he left my scared mom with a newborn, or that he waited till I was born, looked me in the face, andthendecided he didn’t want to be a father.
Scratch that.
I definitely know which is worse.
I break out of my trance to Julia’s worried eyes and the hushing-girl giving me a little finger wave. I bob my head in acknowledgement, then return to the pages of my book.
Tuck’s whisper is the perfect imitation of an Australian crocodile hunter. “Impossible. Brandon Roberts, spotted in his natural habitat, a total babe at the ready and he doesn’t attempt to mate.”
“Shut up, Tuck,” I mutter, but Julia lets out a snarky giggle.
“You’ve not been this pissy since Brielle Shumway in the ninth grade.” His teasing expression falters. “Did something happen with your mom again?”
Worry again enlarges Julia’s eyes, and I shake my head before she can spiral too far. But irritation holds my tongue hostage. Even though Tuck and Julia are like my siblings, the mosh pit of emotions slamming around my stomach makes me want to throw a fist through a wall. I’ll take it out on a punching bag later.
This degree of frustration doesn’t make sense where Kate is concerned. Why should a girl that I met once have this much hold?Abandonment issues aside, I refuse to be desperate like my mom. I don’t throw myself at others. Or beg.
