“What the heck was that?” Roxy whisper-shouts, her eyebrows lifting as my eyes land on her.
“What?” I fidget with the stack of pamphlets in front of me to ease my nervous energy.
Her mouth twists as she crosses her arms. “The interaction between the two of you was odd, and he called you Jules.”
“Odd?” I shake my head, acting like I have no clue what she’s talking about, but anyone would be able to see how off things are between us. “Maybe it’s first day awkwardness,” I offer.
“I don’t think so. That wouldn’t explain why he called you Jules. He’s known for giving the people closest to him nicknames. I earned mine after working here for a year. So, how did you end up with one after meeting him once?”
Shit. My mouth dries as she tilts her head and crosses her arms, awaiting my explanation. Eric had likely called me Jules out of habit, and I have no clue what, if anything, he wants her to know about our past. My head shakes as my eyes dart around the room, my fidgeting hands moving to straighten my clothes as my glare lands on her again. Lying seems pointless, I never could easily hide my feelings when it comes to Eric. So, I let out a huff of breath and answer her as honestly as I can.
“We used to know each other.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal, even though my shrill tone and heated cheeks say otherwise. “I mean…we went to school together.”
“No way!” She places her hand over her mouth as laughter bubbles out of her, looking over her shoulder for Eric before continuing in a whisper again. “So, you guys dated? No wonder things felt so uncomfortable. There was some serious tension happening between you guys.”
“No,” I screech, shaking my head frantically. “We were just friends.”
“Really?” She tilts her head again, her features drawing in. “Well, that was then, and this is now. You never know what can happen. He’s single, you know. What about you?”
Single? Eric isn’t married anymore?
The absence of a wedding ring on his finger hasn’t gone unnoticed, but that doesn’t always mean anything. Perhaps his grumpy demeanor has something to do with his divorce. I’m dying to ask Roxy questions, but my curiosity would only cause more suspicion about our past.
“I’m going through a divorce,” I admit. “The last thing I want right now is to jump into another relationship, especially with my new boss.” Chuckling, I roll my eyes, thinking of the irony of this situation. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Trust me, Eric was never interested in me that way.”
Roxy’s lips curl into a smile like she’s the damn Cheshire Cat. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you said he wasn’t interested in you, not that you weren’t interested in him. But I must disagree with you. I saw the way he looked at you when he walked in. I’ve never seen him show that much interest in a woman before.”
My stomach drops as her words sink in, my head swimming with confusion. Is she seriously insinuating Eric was checking me out? The probability of that being a reality is very low, but even the possibility has me feeling a mixture of excitement and fear.
About a half hour later, Eric buzzes through, telling Roxy he wants to see me in his office. When he calls me Mrs. Monroe, my chest tightens, and the situation is only made worse when Roxy calls him out on it. Walking to his office, I can’t help noticing how emotionally drained I feel from the day already and question again if I’ll be able to handle working here—with him.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Winston?” I clip.
He lifts an eyebrow as his eyes narrow, his jaw ticking, then nods, gesturing for me to take a seat. With a deep breath, I sit down in the same chair I’d been sitting in yesterday. Leaning back, I cross my legs before biting down on the inside of my bottom lip, forcing my gaze on him.
“I thought we should go over some things we didn’t get to yesterday,” he begins, shuffling through the different papers and folders on his desk.
“Okay…”
We hadn’t gone over anything. Neither of us had asked the other any questions. All I know about this job is what Roxy told me when she called to set up the interview, and seeing how he wasn’t expecting me, I’m guessing she didn’t tell him anything about me. What if he really called me in here to take the job offer back?
“Did Roxy tell you traveling is going to be required?” he asks, his eyes lifting from his desk briefly.
“Yes, sir.”
At the time, I’d been excited about the possibility. I love to travel and see new places, but now that I know I’ll be traveling with Eric alone…it sounds frightening.
“Good,” he replies, scratching at his jaw as he enthusiastically nods his head. “We’ll be taking a trip to Atlanta soon. All hotel and travel cost will be covered by the bid, of course.”
He looks up at me through hooded eyes, and my face heats. Panic courses through me, wondering if we’ll be rooming together, and I clamp down harder on my lip to distract myself before giving him a weak smile in acknowledgement.
“I work long hours most days and usually weekends. You’ll be paid overtime for anything over forty hours a week. Did Roxy go over salary with you?”
“Yes, sir,” I echo, the words still feeling odd on my tongue.
For a split second, a smile plays on his lips as his eyes meet mine, but he pulls them back down in a flash, sighing as he shakes his head.
A heaviness falls over me as he continues to talk, noting the distance in his tone and demeanor. Will things always be this tense between us? Is the guy I knew and loved still in there?
NEW YEAR, NEW LIFE
“Hey, Jules,” Eric greets me as I take my seat next to him on the bus, the tone of his voice and expression on his face both reflecting an unease between us.
“Hey…I didn’t think I would see you on here anymore.”
Eric and I haven’t talked since he invited me to have dinner with him and his family for his birthday, which I declined. To be exact, I said, “I’m not your girlfriend, Eric. Rachel is,” and hung up on him. It hadn’t been because I was mad—not really. I was hurt. Hanging up on him seemed like a better option than letting him hear me cry.
Just a few days prior to that, he’d been at my house, on my bed, watching a movie with me, and I’d been sure he was going to kiss me. He wanted to kiss me, I was positive of it—sure he would have if Lori hadn’t interrupted when she did. But I didn’t hear from him at all for two days. When he called to ask me to dinner, I thought maybe he wanted me there as something more than just his friend. Until he told me his girlfriend would be there as well. The hope that had bubbled up in my chest erupted, shattering my heart. Now, I’m questioning whether I can handle continuing our friendship.
Everything is so confusing. One minute, Eric makes me feel special and important. The next, I feel more like a consolation prize—like I’m someone he hangs out with when his girlfriend isn’t available. He means so much to me—way more than he should. My entire day seems brighter with him in it and dimmer without him. It’s terrifying to have so much invested in a person, especially when you don’t feel they have the same investment in you.
“No car yet,” he sighs, shrugging. “Guess you’re stuck with me a little longer.”
“That works for me,” I chirp, flashing him a weak smile.
“Good.” When his eyes finally meet mine, his stare feels intrusive, as if he’s searching for something. He breaks his stare, his focus moving to his bag, and relief floods through me. I take greedy breaths as I watch him dig through his backpack before producing a small wrapped box. “Happy sixteenth birthday, Jules,” he says, holding the box out for me to take.
My heart slams against my chest as I look down at the small box then back up at him. If I wasn’t already feeling like shit for skipping out on his birthday dinner, I would be now.
“Oh no.” I shake my head as my eyes move to the box again. “I can’t. I mean, I didn’t—”
“I got my friend a gift,” he interrupts, his tone flat and sharp at the same time. “It’s not a
big deal, Jules. Just take it.”
This is exactly the kind of situation that leaves my head spinning. Eric getting me a birthday gift after the way I acted is sweet and thoughtful, but his words…well, those keep reality clearly in check. Maybe he doesn’t see getting his friend a birthday gift as a “big deal,” but it is to me.
Reluctantly, I reach out and take the gift from him. “Thank you.”
“Well, go on,” he prompts, waving his hand around. “Open it.”
My hands shake as I pick at the tape, hating the thought of ripping the neatly wrapped paper. When I get to the box and lift the lid, I find a gold, heart-shaped keychain. Tears fill my eyes as a lump grows in the back of my throat. Reaching out, I trace my finger over the engraving on it. Jules. He had them put his nickname for me on it. He’d put consideration and effort into my gift, and it’s quite possibly the best present I’ve ever received. It’s perfect, but I don’t know whether I want to hug him or punch him. My heart can’t take this tug of war much longer.
December 31st
“Do you want a drink?” Eric asks, changing out the lens on the camera.
This isn’t exactly how I would’ve chosen to bring in the new year, but I suppose it could be worse. Eric was commissioned to photograph a wedding—of all things—and decided tonight would be the perfect time to show me the ropes. Having your wedding on New Year’s Eve is a little cliché if you ask me, but then again, maybe I’m jaded.
“Is that allowed?” I ask cautiously. I’d love a drink to help calm my nerves, but I’m technically working and I don’t want my “boss” to think I’m not taking my job seriously. “I mean, we’re working.”
“Theoretically yes…” Turning his attention to me, he gives me that infamous smirk, and my stomach flutters. “But it’s also New Year’s Eve. If we must suffer through this wedding, we should at least be able to have a drink. What do you say?”
“Okay,” I agree, tucking my hair behind my ears.
“All right.” Rubbing his hands together, he looks around the ballroom until he spots the open bar. “I’ll be right back.”
As I watch him walk away, I can’t help smiling. The night is going much better than expected. There’s been a natural ease between us that almost feels like old times.
He returns quickly with a beer in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. “They didn’t have a lot of choices,” he tells me, shrugging apologetically.
“Champagne is great.” I take the proffered glass before tipping it back and downing half. “It goes straight to your head.”
He regards me with curiosity, his lips curving upward before he takes a sip of his beer.
“So, if you weren’t stuck here with me at this wedding, how would you be bringing in the new year?” he asks, focusing on the couples on the dance floor.
“I’d probably be with my girlfriend and her kids. What about you?”
“I probably would’ve stayed at home alone.” He looks over at me out the corner of his eye. “Does that make me lame?”
“That? No. But you’re definitely lame.”
His head whips over in my direction and he lets out a hardy laugh causing a warmth to bloom in my chest as memories flood me—memories of a different time, when I was a different person and Eric was one of my best friends.
January 1st
“I think I may have had one too many,” I slur as Eric packs up the equipment. Maybe it was more than one too many, given that my vision seems a little blurred. After my fourth glass of champagne, I lost count. It’s officially a new year, but I’m not sure whether I’m starting a new life or stepping back into an old one. “Oh shit! I drove!”
“I know,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry. I only had the one beer and didn’t even finish it. I’m fine to drive.” He hitches his bag over his shoulder and hands me my purse. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Giggling like an idiot, I follow behind him as he makes his way out of the venue. “Do you think it’s true what they say?” I ask, concentrating on my steps to keep from stumbling.
“About what?”
“You know, that whatever you’re doing when you bring in the new year is how you’ll spend the rest of the year.”
“What?” He jeers, shaking his head. “I’ve never heard that one.”
“Well, I hope it’s true.”
“Why is that?” He smirks, coming to a stop next to my car. “Are you hoping to stay drunk all year long?”
“No.” I playfully shove him, and he laughs. “I’m hoping to spend it with you—with us together, like this.”
Drunk or not, as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to shove them right back in, and the awkward silence that follows only makes it worse. He’s completely silent and unmoving for several seconds, which feels more like years, his stare void of all emotion.
“Keys,” he finally demands, holding out his hand.
Feeling a lot less inebriated from my sobering admission, my jaw clenches and eyes narrow as I fight the urge to tell him to go to hell—to tell him what an asshole he is. Actually, it’s more like an intense desire to punch him, but I merely do as I’m bid, retrieving my keys from my purse and handing them to him.
He unlocks the doors, and I get into the passenger side of the car while he puts his gear in the trunk. After he slides in behind the wheel, he looks over at me expectantly.
“What?”
“I can’t believe you kept it,” he whispers.
“Kept what?”
He holds up my keys, the heart-shaped keychain draped over the palm of his hand, and my head spins. The combination of the champagne and making a fool of myself has taken a toll on me, souring my good mood drastically.
“Of course I did.” I dramatically collapse against the seat and crossing my arms. “It’s special to me. I don’t throw away things that are special to me. Maybe I never meant that much to you, but you meant a lot to me.”
He goes quiet again, and I turn toward the passenger side window in a huff. By the time the car roars to life, tears are trailing down my face.
END ACT ONE
Entering third period Algebra class, I feel dread for the first time. All year long, this has been my favorite class, but today is different. Eric and I fought this morning. We’ve never argued before, but this morning, I felt so hurt and angry, I couldn’t hold back my feelings. Things have been leading up to this for a while now. For me, it started months ago.
After the night I went to his house to watch a movie, things shifted between us. He’d chosen Notting Hill—a romance, of all things—then sat so close to me on the couch, we were touching. It seemed like so much more than an innocent movie night, and like a fool, I thought we were finally starting to move past friendship.
Until the night of my Halloween party, which I’d thrown as an excuse to spend my favorite holiday with him. Not only did he not show after promising he would, he spent his night with Rachel—the girlfriend he tells me daily he can’t stand and wants to break up with. At the time, I was mad at myself more than anything for only seeing what I wanted to.
By Christmas break, just when I was starting to accept we’d never be anything more than friends, things got even more confusing. We’d almost shared a kiss that day in my bedroom. When he called a few days later, I had butterflies in my stomach, sure he was finally going to ask me out—that he’d broken up with Rachel like he’d been saying he was going to do for months. But I was wrong again.
When school started back after Christmas break, I heard Rachel talking to one of her friends about me in the girl’s bathroom. It hadn’t been a pleasant conversation to hear. She was talking about how pathetic I was for being in love with her boyfriend, how I was ugly and fat, how Eric would never want me. Hurt and embarrassed, I never had any intention of telling Eric about it. She hadn’t been completely wrong. No matter how many times I told myself not to fall in love with Eric, I had. Rachel must not have believed me when I told her I wasn’t going to tell him ab
out the nasty comments because she ended up telling him herself.
Eric apologized a thousand times for Rachel’s catty behavior, told me he was furious with her, but it wasn’t enough. There was only one thing that would make that right: him breaking up with her—which he still hasn’t done. If what he says is true and he really doesn’t want to date her, you’d think it would’ve given him the perfect excuse to end things. Perhaps he cares more for her than he leads on, or, worse yet, he doesn’t care as much about me as I thought he did. Instead, he suggested Rachel and I try to get to know each other, that we become friends. As if that was ever going to happen. It’ll be a cold day in hell.
Yesterday afternoon, I told Eric I couldn’t take him to school this morning. I made up some lame excuse about not having the time, but the truth was, I needed some space to clear my head and figure out how to handle the hurt I’m feeling. Our friendship seems to be causing me more heartache than anything these days.
But Eric couldn’t even respect me enough to give me that. Right as I was getting ready to walk out the door, I got a call from him saying he “missed” the bus and needed me to come get him, knowing I wouldn’t say no.
Before we got our driver’s licenses, Eric and I made an agreement. If one of us got a car before the other, we’d give the other a ride so they wouldn’t have to ride the bus alone. That ended up being me, and for the most part, it hasn’t been a problem. Until now. We both know he missed the bus on purpose, and it made me feel like he cared more about having to ride the bus than respecting me. I felt used, and that hurt boiled in my gut, eventually bubbling out into anger.
For a while now, I’ve felt like his consolation prize—like he gets to have his cake and eat it too. He prefers my company over Rachel’s, he’s told me as much. But she’s the one who gets to hold his hand as they walk down the hall. She’s the one he takes on dates and kisses goodnight.
Crushed (In This Moment Book 2) Page 5