“That’s not—”
I cut across Garrick before he can finish his sentence. “You should date Carrie again,” I suggest, finishing my drink and standing. “She might have a boyfriend, but she’s obviously still hooked on you.” Grabbing my bag, I clutch it to my chest as I cast a glance at Ellen. “I’m so over this night,” I say. “Are you coming home or staying at Will’s?”
“We’ll come with you,” Will says, helping Ellen to her feet.
“Stevie, please. Don’t go. Let’s talk and I’ll make sure you get home safely.” Garrick reaches for me, but I step back, avoiding his hand.
“I’m capable of making my own way home, and you should stay. Find some other blonde to date, and leave me out of your woman drama.”
* * *
I wait to emerge from my bedroom the following morning until after I hear Will leaving. I slept fitfully, and I’m grumpy. A dull ache slices across my brow, and my tongue is partially glued to the roof of my furry mouth. Ugh. I amneverdrinking again.
“Hey.” Ellen thrusts a paper cup at me when I emerge in the kitchen. “I was about to knock on your door and see if you were alive. Garrick just picked up Will. They’re planning to work through their hangovers at the gym. He stopped off at Bumble Bees on the way and grabbed us all coffee. There are pastries too,” she adds, pointing at the box on the counter.
“He makes it so hard to stick to my resolve,” I murmur while popping the lid on my coffee and inhaling the delicious aroma.
“He’s a good guy.” Ellen rests her elbows on the counter as I hop up onto a stool. “But after all that drama last night, maybe you’re right to relegate him to the friend zone.”
“Yeah, I have zero desire to become a target for his crazed fans and lovesick exes.” I lick the froth off the top of my cinnamon caramel cappuccino as I remove a poppyseed pastry from the box, realizing Ellen must’ve given Garrick a list of my Bumble Bees favorites.
“However.” Ellen draws out the word as she watches me rip a piece of pastry and pop it in my mouth. “What happened last night wasn’t really his fault.”
“Except for questionable judgment in relation to some of the girls he has dated,” I supply in between mouthfuls of the luscious pastry.
“True, but he dumped the crazy after one date, and it’s not on him if his ex has lingering feelings. You probably didn’t notice before you hightailed it, but he wasn’t encouraging her. Carrie was the one all over him.”
“You sound like you’re back on Team Garrick.”
She jabs her finger in my direction before swiping a vanilla Danish from the box. “Girl, I’m always Team Stevie. Just trying to put things into perspective.”
* * *
I’m still mulling over her words later as I set out on foot to meet Garrick at the coffee shop closest to the campus gym. He’d texted me while I was nursing my hangover and attempting to study, asking if we could talk. I figure some fresh air would do me no harm, and I don’t like how I left things last night with him. I was probably a little harsh, and he’s been nothing but nice to me all week. I at least owe him an opportunity to defend himself.
Garrick is sitting in the corner by the wall when I arrive, his eyes peeled on the door. His legendary smile is toned down today but still welcoming. I hurry across the semi-busy room toward him. He stands and pulls out a chair for me. “Hey, thanks for coming.”
“I’m glad you reached out to me,” I say, sitting down as he reclaims the seat across the table.
A waitress arrives at our table. She refills Garrick’s coffee as she asks me what I’d like. “I hear you’re partial to caramel macchiatos, and we do a great one,” the older woman says as she shares a conspiratorial look with Garrick.
“Don’t tempt me,” I groan. “This guy already hand-delivered my favorite cappuccino and pastry earlier. My blood sugars will be through the roof if I ingest any more sweet stuff.”
She pats Garrick on the shoulder. “This one’s a keeper.”
Yeah, I’m not touching that.
I smile up at her. “I’ll have an unsweetened chai latte if you have it.”
“Coming right up, sweet cheeks.”
“Another fan?” I ask when she’s out of earshot, quirking a brow.
Scrubbing his hands down his face, he sighs heavily. “I’m not making a great impression, am I?”
“Women seem to gravitate to you like moths to a flame, and that’s really not my scene.”
He leans forward, straining toward me across the table. “I swear I’m not into the whole rock star groupie thing. I’m only up there to play my guitar and sing my favorite songs. I’m not interested in any of the other bullshit.”
