Oh, thank fuck he doesn’t want to have sex.
“You’re a little high maintenance for me, and frankly, Kaia made it seem like you were cool, but I don’t see it…” He looks up at me, and his expression is blank, like he genuinely believes he’s letting me down easy. I lick my bottom lip and hold on to the intense rage that bubbles up in my chest at his smug face.
“Do you think you could drop me off at home?” I ask politely.
“Actually, I’m heading the other way—party,” he says. “So call a cab. Let’s keep this parting clean of any drama.” He turns away from me, and I nod, an unimpressed scoff falling from my lips. “It was nice to meet you, Reanne.”
“Rhea,” I correct. He doesn’t even hear me.
I stand there staring at him as he pulls out of his double space, almost hitting the person behind him, and takes off out of the parking lot.
“Holy shit,” I laugh—so loud it turns into a near-cry. I tug my phone out of my pocket to call Sunday and find it dead. Only making the threat of tears worse. I literally only brought my phone…If you didn’t have such a crippling fear of cab drivers from podcasts, you’d be fine right now, you big baby.I turn back to the restaurant, wandering back inside and asking the busy girl behind the counter if I can use the phone. She shrugs and sets it on the counter for me, but when I go to dial Sunday’s number, my brain blanks on the last four digits.
“Eight-four-one…” I mumble to myself, the need to cry getting worse, and then I remember that I shoved one of the Hollow business cards into the back of my phone last week when a cute paramedic wrote his number onit.I was so fucking drunk…I should have called him for a date.I dial the number and wait; it rings more than once, but someone answers, and through the noise of the loud bar, I hear him.
“This is the Hollow, Bright speaking,” he says.
“Brighton!” I blurt, relieved.
“Bright,” he says like he’s annoyed, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. “Why are you calling the bar Rhea? Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”
“Yup. With an asshole. Can you find Sunday and get her to come to the Indian restaurant on nineteenth? Like ASAP?” I ask him, and he grumbles something.
“Stay put,” he says. The line goes dead.
I shouldn’t have grabbed my keys.
I shouldn’t be speeding across town, barely stopping at the lights.
I shouldn’t even be fucking worried.
But her voice is in my head, and her sad eyes have gotten under my skin, so…
I turn the corner to the restaurant and sigh.
Rhea Drake looks smaller than I’ve ever seen her, perched on the curb, wiping tears from her cheeks in the dark when I pull up. She doesn’t look up, even when I open the door.
“Of course you’d be in the shadiest part of town,” I mutter, climbing out. She looks up at me, and the tears fill her eyes.
“You were supposed to send Sunday,” she says, swallowing hard. She's been crying for a while because the black mascara is smudged beneath her eyes, and her cheeks are a horrible shade of pink. I grind my teeth, trying to be her friend and not a jealous idiot—despite the wave of it that hit when she left the apartment earlier.
“And you’re supposed to be smarter,” I joke, and she sighs, but the tiniest laugh falls from her. She takes my hand. It’s small in mine as I pull her up and guide her to the passenger door. She doesn’t make eye contact as she climbs inside, but she mumbles something about my truck being spotless, and I can’t help but laugh as I shut the door.
When I get into the driver's seat, she's messing with the radio, and only her sniffles can be heard over the sound of skipping radio stations.
“Stop.” I hold a hand out, and she flinches anyway. “Here,” I say, digging into the center console and unlocking my phone for her before fixing the Bluetooth she messed up, and letting her go through my collection. She stares at it for a second and then starts to scroll through the playlists with a funny look on her face. “What?”
“You actually have decent taste in music,” she admits and looks up at me. It’s nice to see that she’s stopped crying, but it still itches at something deep inside of me, locked behind all the doors that are labeled ‘just friends’.
“How is it possible that your statement sounded like an insult?” I pull the truck to a stop at a red light and take the phone from her to pick a specific playlist. “This one,” I say, putting the phone away. It’s a mix of old and new—soft rock and folk I’ve collected over the years. One of my favorites.
She’s quiet again, and I hate that I can’t figure out how to pull her from her shell.Be her friend, you know. The word you keep repeating to yourself every time she smiles at you.
“What happened tonight?” I ask, turning back toward the Hollow.
Rhea grimaces as she flips her dead phone over in her hand a few times. “It was a blind date. Kaia meant well, but I think Miles was more interested in her than me,” she explains. “He spent the whole night on his phone. When he finally looked up, he used it to comment on my height.”
“You aren’t even that tall,” I say.She is,but she gives me a small, defeated laugh, and that’s all that matters. But as soon as it appears, it’s gone again, and I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. All I can do is get her back to the Hollow.
