I hope an uncomfortable amount of time hasn’t passed as I force a smile and reach out for Gavin’s hand, both of us engaging in a crushing grip that tells me he’s threatened by me and whispers that I might feel the same about him, too.
“I didn’t realize Erin had a boyfriend,” I comment, and I want to kick myself for how petty it sounds.
“Yeah. From what she tells me, you two don’t talk much anymore,” Gavin comments. Before I can reply, he pulls his hand from mine and extends it for Becca. “Thanks for having us over.”
“It’s our pleasure,” she says, shaking his hand. “I’m Becca.” Then, her eyes land hard on me. “Bear’s girlfriend.”
I know that look. It’s the one that says why the hell didn’t you say this before I had to?
I clear my throat, rounding the couch to where Erin is standing with the casserole dish. I reach out for it. “I told you you didn’t have to bring anything.”
It comes out harsher than I mean for it to, and I internally curse myself. Snap out of it, big guy.
“It’s just a sweet corn casserole,” she says softly, tucking her hair behind her ear when her hands are free. “It’s my mom’s specialty.”
My stomach tightens.
It seems like everyone has a memory of their mother on this holiday, fond thoughts of cooking in the kitchen and famous recipes.
The only things my mom ever brought around on Thanksgiving were drugs and strangers.
At least, that was always the case when I was younger. But earlier this afternoon when Becca and I were cooking, I got a video call from my little brother, showing me that they were all gathered at Mac’s house — including our mother and my older brother and his family — laughing and playing games and getting ready to eat their own feast.
Without me.
“Well, thank you,” I say after a long pause, shaking off my own shit to focus on the whole reason I had this get-together in the first place. I owe Erin an apology, but not now. Not in front of everyone.
Erin and I watch each other, her shifting her weight before the gaze becomes too much for her, and she looks behind me.
At Gavin.
Who promptly returns to where she’s standing, putting his arm around her waist. What pisses me off most is it’s not possessive or territorial or aimed toward me at all.
It’s comforting and calming, meant for Erin only, and she leans into that touch with a sigh of relief that makes my chest tighten for a completely new reason.
“Alright, let’s get this into the kitchen and I think we should be ready to eat,” Becca says, taking the casserole from my hands with a warning glare. “Everyone grab your plates.”
It’s all laughter and catching up and getting to know each other as we fill our plates and gather at the table — a folding table usually used for flip cup and beer pong that has been disguised with a tablecloth, some flowers, and a few candles. The frat house always smells faintly of beer, but the candles help cover it a bit, and though it’s far from something Martha Stewart would approve, it’s not bad for a college Thanksgiving set-up.
I’m mostly a quiet bystander as everyone talks while we eat — Josh bragging about his IM football stats, Amber and Becca telling us stories from their raucous high school days, Erin and Pamela bonding over their shared love of well-organized planners.
And then there’s Gavin.
He’s almost as quiet as I am, chiming in time to time only to lay out a well-placed joke or to ask a question about something someone’s talking about. Like he cares.
And maybe he does.
Maybe he’s a perfectly cool dude with perfectly good intentions with Erin.
But after what she’s been through, I can’t help but watch him like the big brother she never asked me to be — arms crossed, gaze hard, jaw ticking as I fight back the questions I really want to ask.
Like:
Do you have a criminal record?
How many girls have you cheated on or broken up with?
When was your last serious relationship?
What plans do you have for your life?
What makes you think you deserve the most amazing girl in the world?
I shift uncomfortably as that last thought flitters through me, chugging half my beer in one swallow with Becca’s eyes watching.
“So,” I say when I set my glass back down, staring at Gavin. “Gavin. How did you and Erin meet?”
Erin smiles at him when he turns to her, and even without being able to see it, I know he grabs her hand under the table and gives it a squeeze.
“She was walking on the beach at sunrise, her hair and skirt blowing back behind her in the breeze as she watched the horizon. And I watched her. I mean, how could I not, with the morning glow on her face like that? I was just out surfing, but I didn’t care about the waves once I saw her. I had to know her name. So, I paddled in and hopped off my board and walked straight up to her and said…” He pauses, looking at Erin with a bent brow and making his voice deeper. “Hello, my queen. It is I, your King, and I have searched this world high and low for you.”
Erin shoves his chest with a roll of her eyes, still smiling when she looks at me. “We met at therapy.”
The girls all laugh, and Amber holds up her glass to Gavin. “You had me going. I was leaning in like oh my God, what did she say to that?!”
“I was just about to start taking notes, see if I could pull the same stunt on Perfect Pam here,” Josh added, which made the group chuckle again. Well, except for Pam, who blushed and hid behind her hair.
And except for me, too, because I couldn’t find it in me to so much as smile.
“What are you in therapy for?”
The room goes silent at my question, and Becca pinches me under the table. “Bear,” she warns.
“Do you have to be in therapy for one specific reason?” Gavin asks, taking a sip of his wine, completely calm and cool and collected.
“Isn’t that kind of the point?”
“The goals of therapy differ greatly, depending on the person. It can be focused on healing, growing, resolving issues, surviving trauma.”
“So what’s yours?”
“Bear,” Erin says this time, her eyes wide.
“A little of everything, I suppose. Do you go to therapy, Bear?” Gavin asks.
“Of course not.”
“Oh, so you’re perfect? Nothing wrong with you at all, huh? No shit to work through, nothing holding you back from being your best self?”
I don’t have an answer to that, which makes me grip my glass harder as I lift it to my lips and drain the last of my beer.
“I think it’s great,” Becca says, somehow managing a smile when she finally peels her murderous glare away from me.
“Me, too,” Amber agrees. “And I think it’s awesome that you two met at your most vulnerable. Not a lot of people can say that, you know? We all play games when we first start dating. We hide who we really are in the name of being who we think the other person wants us to be.”
Becca sips her champagne silently, glancing at me with a sullen look in her eyes as Erin and Gavin smile at each other.
“It is pretty awesome,” Gavin agrees. “There’s a side of this girl that she doesn’t show to anyone but me. And I’ll admit, I’m a greedy bastard when it comes to that pile of gold.”
The girls visibly swoon, but I just grind my teeth, not able to hold back my sarcastic grunt.
Gavin turns to look at me, arching one brow. “Something else to say, Bear?”
“Not to you.”
“Whoa, bro,” Josh says, smiling at everyone to try to make the moment lighter. “What’s with the hostility? Gavin, did you steal the last of the cranberry sauce or something?”
“Actually, I think I stole the girl he never thought to make his. And now he’s regretting his inaction and thinks he can piss on her to scare me off.”
My chair grinds against the wooden floor when I stand, towering over Gavin as everyone jumps. I point my fi
nger straight into his chest. “Listen here, you disrespectful little fuck.”
“Oh, I’m listening. Go on. Tell me I’m wrong,” Gavin challenges with a smirk, not even so much as puffing his chest back at me. He’s not threatened, and that somehow pisses me off more.
“I think we should go,” Erin says, standing and folding her napkin primly before laying it carefully next to her plate. “Becca, I hope you don’t mind if we don’t help with clean up.”
“Not at all,” Becca says, standing too. Only she doesn’t fold her napkin — she bunches it in her fist and throws it down on the table with her eyes on me. “In fact, I think Bear can clean up this mess on his own.”
She storms out of the room without another look at me, her friends on her tail, Pam looking at me with pity, while Amber’s glare matches the one Becca had been giving me all night.
Gavin stands slowly, helping Erin put her camisole sweater on before grabbing her hand and leading her toward the door. “Thanks for dinner,” he says to me, winking. “It’s been a real treat.”
My muscles work before my brain does, and the only thing that stops me from launching at that motherfucker and beating his face in is Josh’s hands wrapping around my arms and quickly holding them behind my back in a stiff lock. I shrug against it to no avail, which makes Gavin shake his head with a look like he pities me.
Then they’re gone, and it’s just me and Josh.
“Damn, bro,” he says when they’re gone, releasing me. “What the hell was all that?”
And I just breathe like a bull, chest heaving, wishing I knew the goddamn answer myself.
I HAVEN’T BEEN TO Cup O’ Joes since Grayson and I broke up, and sitting here for the first time in almost a year, I remember why.
Everything about this place reminds me of when we dated.
I remember the first time I met him, when he bought my coffee and asked for my number and made me blush with his unapologetic gaze.
I remember watching him play a set, looking around the room at the way the girls visibly swooned with every note he played and every word he sang.
I remember sitting in this very seat, at this very table in the back corner of the room, so I could watch but not be watched.
Of course, Grayson never let me slide under the radar for long. He loved to call attention to me when he was on stage, or as soon as he got off stage, striding back to me and wrapping me in a hug or planting a big kiss on my lips to let everyone in that room know he was taken.
At least, that’s what I’d thought.
My stomach sours when I remember something else — that the entire time I’d trusted him, he’d been lying to me.
Shaking that thought off, I take a sip of my coffee, reveling in the sweet taste of their famous caramel mocha that I haven’t had since Grayson and I broke up. I’ve missed it, and the atmosphere of the shop, with students studying and chatting and listening to Grayson play.
He’s on stage, crooning out a Maroon 5 song and winking at every girl who casts her wide-eyed gaze up at him. I can’t help but chuckle, noting that while he’s changed, some things never will.
It’s Monday evening, the first day back on campus for most students who went away for the Thanksgiving holiday. With the sun setting earlier now, it’s completely dark in the shop, save for the dim industrial lighting and the candles at each table. With Grayson singing and strumming his guitar and the Christmas lights already being hung across campus, there’s a feel of the holiday season in the air, and I breathe into it with a smile.
Grayson asked me to come watch him play while we were walking out of lab earlier. He wanted me to be there when he played his newest song, the one he’d been writing and giving me previews of for the past few weeks. I agreed, of course, and invited Adam to join me — which I knew he appreciated as much as he hated.
He doesn’t love Grayson and me being friends, but he understands it. He respects it. And that means more to me than he could ever know.
I’m excited for him to see that Grayson and I really are just friends, that anything there was between us is firmly in the past. I hope it will set his mind at ease.
And hey, he can kiss me right here in front of Grayson and everyone else.
I don’t mind him claiming his territory.
Heat flushes my cheeks at the thought of his kiss, the kind that always burns me and leaves a mark, and I check my watch anxiously. He should have been here by now.
Grayson announces he’s going to take a little break, and when he comes back, he’ll play a brand-new song. That earns applause and hoots and hollers from just about every girl in the place, and when I look around, I wonder how many of them are here for Grayson, alone.
His hair is tied at the back of his neck, and he’s dressed in a leather jacket, forest green relaxed-fit t-shirt and dark jeans. His combat boots set off the rock-star look, and he strides toward me with an easy smile, like he doesn’t realize every girl’s neck is breaking to watch him as he passes.
“Great set,” I say when he sits at the table. “Want me to get you a coffee?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, the barista drops off a hot Earl Grey tea and a tall glass of ice water. “The usual, Grayson,” she says, casting me a cautious glance before she smiles at him again. “You were great up there. Can’t wait to hear the new song.”
“I’ll play it just for you, Wendy.”
She bites her lip on a flush, excusing herself without another word.
When Grayson looks at me, he shrugs. “What?”
“Just watching Casanova in action,” I say, chuckling.
“Hey, I’m just being nice.”
“Mm-hmm.” I sip my coffee. “So, your parents know you still play here?”
His eyes darken with the question, and he dunks the bag of tea a few times, watching it steep. “Yeah. Dad says he doesn’t care, as long as I’ve let go of my fantasy and am getting good grades.”
“I’m sorry, Grayson.”
He shrugs. “It’s whatever. As long as I keep working on the plan they think is best for me, I can play my music. And that’s all that matters to me.”
“Do you think you’ll go back to music once you graduate?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know. I want to, of course, but… I mean, maybe it really is a fantasy. Look how many musicians never make a name for themself.”
“Do you have to make a name for yourself?” I ask, sitting up straighter when he looks at me confused. “I mean, what if it was always just like this. You and your guitar, small coffee shops, playing music and making people feel good.”
Grayson nods. “That’d be alright, I think.”
“Then maybe you can have both — the life they want for you, and the life you want, too.”
“I guess I never considered that the two could marry.”
I shrug. “Just a thought.”
“You always were smarter than me.”
I scoff at that, biting my tongue to resist the urge to point out that I wasn’t smart enough to know he was cheating on me all along.
My next sip of coffee is bitter. Why the hell do I still care? Why does that thought still bubble to the surface every time I’m with Grayson, making me feel prickly as a cactus?
I frown.
Will my new friendship with Grayson always be shadowed by that cloud of betrayal?
“What’s on your mind?”
I blink, clearing my throat when I realize Grayson has been watching me. “Nothing.”
“You’ve also always been a terrible liar.”
“I guess I was just thinking. This place brings back a lot of memories.”
Grayson’s face slacks. “Yeah. It does for me, too.”
The way he watches me now is with a longing so fierce, I feel it like a vibration in the air. I swallow, looking away from him and out at the quad where students are dressing the giant Christmas tree they put up there every year.
“I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas. This seme
ster has flown by.”
“Cassie, don’t change the subject.”
I frown, looking back at him. “I didn’t realize we were on a subject.”
“The shop. The memories.” He pauses. “You and me.”
“Uh…”
Grayson scoots his chair closer to mine, his eyes earnest as they watch me intently, and warning bells ring loud and shrill in my ears.
Oh no…
“I invited you tonight because I wanted to see if you felt it, too — the rush of what we used to be. Because every time I walk through those doors, every time I play here… it takes me under like a tidal wave.”
“Grayson,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I just came here to support you. As a friend.”
“You and I have never been friends,” he says, covering my knee with his hand. “And you know it.”
I swat his hand away quickly, scooting back. “Grayson. Stop. Now. I mean it.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t miss me,” he hisses, frowning and shaking his head like I’m in denial. “I see it. I feel it. And whatever is going on between you and Adam, it’s not what we had.”
“You’re right,” I say. “It’s so much more than what you and I could ever have even hoped to have.” I scoff, my chest on fire. “God, I can’t believe I fell for this. I can’t believe I thought you actually, genuinely wanted to be my friend.”
“I do want to be your friend,” he argues, scooting his chair closer again. Mine is pinned now, and I curse myself for picking that same back corner table I’d always sat at before. “But I want to be more, too. I want you back. I want to prove to you that I’m the one you should be with — not that asshat.”
“I love him,” I whisper-yell. “How dare you say these things to me. I stood up for you, you know that? When you didn’t deserve it. When Adam questioned me. When he told me I was an idiot for thinking you could ever be just my friend.” My mouth falls open, and I shake my head in disbelief at my own stupidity. “He was right. How did I not see it?”
“He sees what I see. What I know you see, too.” Grayson puts his hand on my knee again, and this time when I try to swat it away, it doesn’t budge. “We’re meant for each other, Cassie. And I’m not letting up until you realize you never stopped loving me, and I never stopped loving you, and this — you and me — we’re real. We’re inevitable.”
Ritual: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 5) Page 22