“That’s good,” Dillon mumbles, resignation pulling his mouth down. “I’m glad. I didn’t realize. I—” He cuts himself off, looking away. “I wanted to reach out…”
I don’t know what to say to him. I wasn’t prepared for this, least of all today. My mouth is too dry, and I pick up my coffee, trying to hide the way my hand is shaking.
“Are you happy, Charlie?”
I open my mouth to answer, but Alec reappears, stepping around Dillon to retake his seat. “Hey, man,” he says cheerfully. “How’s it going?”
Dillon’s eyes bounce between us, his expression tortured. I wonder if he’s picturing me with Alec—the same way I pictured him and Marisa together. It’s petty andbeneath me, but I kind of like evening out the scales between us.
Marisa assured me it was only ever that one time between them, and she was horrified when she realized Dillon had never told me. Nothing she said diminished the fact that it felt like he had deliberately hidden it.
“Hey,” Dillon greets stiffly, turning back to me. “Charlie…I’d really like to talk sometime. If that’s alright with you.” His tone is hopeful, quiet—as non-threatening as he can possibly make it.
My throat is tight and scratchy, uncertainty filling my chest. Seeing him is bringing everything back—all the hurt I worked so hard to overcome. With the pain also comes feelings, sweeping in like a tidal wave, as strong as ever, and I hate myself for that.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, leaning back in my chair. “I’m not sure I’m ready to talk, or that I want to.”
His throat bobs. “That’s fair. I’ve, uh…I’ve got a new number. Can I give it to you? Just in case. You don’t want to talk, you never use it. If you change your mind…” He lifts his shoulder in an awkward shrug. Across from me, Alec smirks, miming an explosion with his hands, and Dillon’s face gets redder as he shoots a glare at him, mumbling, “Shut up.”
“Didn’t say a word,” Alec teases, and Dillon’s mouth twitches.
I look between the two of them, inwardly debating what I should do, before I sigh and pull out my phone. I pass it over to Dillon, making sure our fingers don’t touch. “Fine,” I say begrudgingly. “I might delete it as soon as I get home.”
There’s the faintest curve to his mouth, his eyes creasing at the corners. “That’s okay. If that’s what you need to do. But at least, this way, I know I tried, right?”
Dillon sets the phone down on the table when he’s done, using one finger to slide it back toward me. He gives me one last lingering look before he turns and walks away without another word. It’s not until the door to the cafe shuts behind him that I realize he left his coffee behind.
Alec’s watching me, his shoes knocking against mine when he stretches his legs out under the table. “That was awkward as fuck.”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“You gonna make him work for it, Charlie?”
I pin a furious look on him. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it? So what I just witnessed wasn’t you torturing him a little and getting your own back?” He holds his palms out. “Not that I judge. You do what you gotta do.”
I bite my lip, eyes sliding to the door Dillon disappeared through. “You think I should’ve gone easier on him?”
Alec shakes his head. “I don’t think anything. Like I said, you do you. But that man? He probably doesn’t need help with the torture.” His brows furrow. “Seems to be doing just fine torturing himself.”
Kayla posesin front of the mirror, cocking a hip and pursing her lips dramatically. Her glittery red dress stops just under her ass, and I know that if she lifts her arms or bends the wrong way, everyone will see what’s underneath.
It’s daring and risque, and something I would never be caught dead in. My cousin is slim enough to pull it off, but I wouldn’t wear that even if I were several sizes smaller.
There’s just not enough fabric.
She catches my expression in the mirror. “Is it too short?”
I shake my head, leaning my hands on the bed behind me. “No. Not unless you’re planning on wearing it to Sunday brunch. Then definitelyyes.”
Kayla winks at me. “I’m definitely not doing any kind of brunch.” She wrinkles her nose. “Well, unless some guy invites me to stay over.”
“That dress will definitely get you breakfast,” I assure her, adding with a grin, “And dinner the next night too.”
She fluffs her shoulder-length brown hair before turning to face me. “Speaking of brunch…”
I let out a groan. “I can already tell I’m not gonna like whatever you’re about to say.”
