by A. J. Pine
She turned to see Jeremy holding out Spencer’s name tag. This jolted her memory, causing her to look behind her to where Jamie still stood behind the bar. She bit her lip and smiled at him, a holy-shit-this-is-really-happening smile, and Jamie smiled back. It wasn’t his real smile. She knew that. It was his I-kinda-hate-parties-but-will-only-do-this-for-you smile, and she made a mental note to thank him. Everything was on track, happening as it should, and she felt the tension release from her shoulders.
“Thanks,” Spencer said, grabbing the laminated replica of his senior picture from Jeremy. Other than his hair being a little longer, wavier and more sun-kissed, he looked exactly the same. He pulled the lanyard over his head and looked down to where Brynn’s rested on her chest.
“You look great,” Spencer said. “Stunning, actually.”
Brynn’s whole core burned, and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks, a kettle about to blow.
“Um, yeah…” she mumbled, the English language seeming to evaporate from existence.
“Sorry.” Spencer ran a hand through his hair, and she watched how the blond locks at his nape brushed the top of his collar. “That was maybe a little much. I just wasn’t expecting…” He paused, his eyes drinking her in from head to toe. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Yeah. That decided it. There would be a kiss tonight, and come hell or high water, something after that kiss. It hadn’t just been a year since Brynn was in a relationship. It was also the last time she had been intimate with anyone other than something that required batteries, and frankly, as much as she adored the pulse setting, she had a feeling Spencer might have something better to offer.
“It’s okay,” she managed to say. “I guess I’m just not used to that word—stunning.”
Sure, she’d put a little extra effort into how she looked tonight, but it’s not like she was the antithesis of her everyday self. She’d been called cute, pretty, even beautiful by guys she’d dated. Then again, that was the job of the boyfriend, right? To see the beauty in his girlfriend. Holly calling her gorgeous didn’t count. It was a sisterly obligation. But Spencer was just—Spencer. He wasn’t her anything, yet he tossed out that word like it was the most natural thing for him to say.
He laughed then, like he didn’t believe her, and she wasn’t about to argue the situation even though she could do it and do it well.
No, really. No guy ever in the history of the world—or at least my existence in it—has called me stunning. I could probably get paperwork to back this up if you give me a business day or two.
She didn’t say any of that, not wanting to spoil the moment. Instead she tugged at the lanyard around her own neck, needing something to do with her hand.
“Maybe we should grab a drink, catch up, mingle with the rest of the class,” she suggested.
“I’m all yours,” he said, and she led him past the bar where she swore Jamie was a minute ago. She’d probably find him on the party deck, where she and Spencer were headed now. That’s all she needed, really, was to see him and know he wasn’t alone—not that they were there together. But she wanted this night to be fun for him even if he’d rather be in his office color coding his calendar.
For now, she was on a mission—one that nothing would deter.
…
“Seriously, Kingston? She’s gone. You can come up now.”
Jamie recognized Annie’s voice, but her assurance of Brynn and Spencer’s departure from the immediate vicinity did not make him want to come out of hiding. Not that he was hiding. That would be ridiculous. He’d watched the whole exchange between Brynn and Mr. California, rinsing their shot glasses in water hot enough to melt away a layer of skin, though he hoped he hadn’t. He couldn’t register something as mundane as water temperature when Brynn’s dream guy was calling her stunning. He’d strained to make out the conversation, and he’d heard every word.
Is that all it took? The right compliment? How many ways had he told Brynn she was stunning in the past six years? Why did it mean something different when Spencer Matthews said it? And, Christ, why did it matter so much?
He sighed, knowing the answer to at least one of his own questions, the one he was willing to admit. Brynn saw him one way and Spencer another. That’s how it was in high school, and that’s how it was now. Save for the brief intermission in her Spencer Matthews crush, Jamie was the friend and Spencer the potential more-than.
“I can see you, you know.”
Jamie looked up from where he squatted to find Annie leaning over the top of the bar, so he stood to meet her snooping gaze.
“I was…uh…drying shot glasses and putting them away,” he said, which wasn’t untrue. There just wasn’t a necessity to dry said glasses at floor level rather than bar level, but he would keep that little tidbit to himself.
“You’re an idiot,” Annie said, and his eyes widened. It wasn’t just what she said but the fact that it was her saying it. Annie was Brynn’s closest friend other than him, but she was his friend, too.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“I said you’re an idiot,” she repeated, as if that was the only thing standing in the way of Jamie’s comprehension, hearing her.
“Yeah.” His brows pulled together. “I heard you the first time. I’m kind of wondering why I’m an idiot.”
He had plenty of ways he could answer this himself, but he was curious about Annie’s opinion at the moment.
“You’re still in love with her.”
Just like that, she said it, point-blank and with no filter. And that word—still. As if it was a constant, had never gone away.
“Annie, I don’t know what you’re—”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes, then sighed. “Come on. I’m not blind. I see you two together almost on a daily basis. And you forget I’ve known you both since high school.”
He wasn’t sure if Brynn had let Annie in on their almost. Once he told Brynn he needed her as his friend, she put the kibosh on ever bringing up their kiss again.
Jamie threw the towel over his shoulder and dropped the clean shot glasses on the bar. He needed both hands, needed to clasp them behind his neck and think.
He let out a long breath before speaking again. There was no hiding from Annie under the bar, and it looked like he couldn’t hide anything else from her, either, though he swore he’d been hiding his feelings just fine from himself all these years.
“I’m seeing someone,” he said, but knew that proved nothing. Not to Annie. Not to himself, though this was the first time he’d admitted it. “It’s this night,” he said as his shoulders sagged. “It’s bringing up—feelings.” He thought about telling her that it was just the environment, being around all these people. He was fine yesterday, and he’d be fine tomorrow. This was temporary. Or it was all bullshit. Maybe it was time to admit that, too.
“Am I that obvious?” he finally asked, and Annie’s eyes softened, an unexpectedly sad smile taking over her features.
“To me and the rest of the world? Yeah. Probably. But you know Brynn. She won’t let herself see. She’s kind of stubborn like that.”
Kind of stubborn. Ha. Brynn was a ten-story brick wall when she felt the need. He understood. She refused to discuss what almost happened ten years ago. Why the hell would she look forward and consider the possibility of a future between them? Shit. That’s what he was doing, wasn’t he? Imagining a future with her after bailing on that possibility ten years ago?
“I know,” he said and pressed his palms flat on the bar. “Maybe I need to stop searching for what isn’t there.”
Shit. Again. He was searching. Annie knew it just by looking at him. It was like someone knocked him in the head. Sense memory his ass. What he felt right now—had been feeling since he showed up at Brynn’s apartment—that was no memory.
It wasn’t jealousy or memories that triggered these feelings, not even the alcohol. All it took was one person calling him on what had been there all along, drawing it to the surface. Saying it out
loud was enough to make what he felt for Brynn more real than anything he’d experienced in years. If he was going to be perfectly honest with himself—and really, the floodgates were open now—he’d never fallen for another woman like he had for Brynn all those years ago.
He tried to come up with reasons to lob at Annie, reasons why adult Jamie was still listening to the teen version of himself. He couldn’t come up with a single one. All these years he’d been protecting his heart, but the second he saw Brynn walk off with Spencer, he knew he was in trouble. The only thing he’d protected himself from was a chance at happiness.
It scared him. But, shit, Jamie wanted more than he’d let himself have. He figured the reason he hadn’t truly fallen for Liz, or anyone else in his adult life, was because on some level he knew his feelings were never as real as they were that night on Brynn’s couch. Real could be good—fucking terrifying, but good. That was the only explanation for what he decided. He should talk to Liz. She had a break at ten. Things were new enough with them that she’d understand. He shouldn’t be dating her if he was reacting like this.
Then he’d talk to Brynn, lay his cards on the table, because he couldn’t go another ten years pretending. And maybe she was pretending, too. Maybe all it would take was one of them manning up and putting it out there. After another shot of Jack—or seven—he’d have the balls to do it.
Annie shook her head, her short auburn bob brushing against her cheeks.
“Oh, it’s there, Jamie. Maybe you just need to make her see what I do.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
She leaned across the bar, pressing her palm to his chest.
“Show her what’s here,” Annie said, and he sucked in a breath, the sharp stab of rejection threatening to pierce him where her hand lay. He’d pushed Brynn away once. What if she pushed him away now?
He was over the dissolution of his family, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover if he lost Brynn. Could he risk it?
Annie looked down, nodding at the two shot glasses between them.
“You got something to put in there?” she asked.
He raised a brow. “Liquid courage?”
“Something like that.”
“If I let you in on my secret stash, are you going to keep dispensing relationship advice?”
Annie shrugged. “Depends. Do you want to be happy?”
Well, that was a fucking loaded question.
He reached under the bar and produced the bottle of whiskey.
“That’s quite the hiding place you’ve got back there,” Annie said. “Any other surprises?”
He shook his head. “You know all my secrets now.”
He poured them each a shot, and Annie held hers up to offer a toast.
“It’s cuz your poker face sucks. Bottoms up.”
Jamie laughed and threw back his shot. If that was the case, maybe it was time to come out of hiding.
Chapter Four
Brynn’s eyes moved in a circle, taking in her surroundings. Pods of people dotted the upper deck of the brewery. She sat on a stool at the bar, ensnared in a group of old girlfriends, each one oohing and aahing over another’s life milestones—new job, new husband, and, for a select few, new baby. She smiled and nodded, trying to ignore the disconnect between herself and people she considered friends years ago. Spencer stood nearby, his pod a little different than hers. Even though his book hadn’t launched yet, the crowd around him seemed to be fawning. Spencer was the center of attention. Actually, pretty much the same as in high school. The difference was that this time she wasn’t wondering if Spencer knew she existed let alone had a crush on him. Now, when her eye caught his, he smiled, and she raised her glass in response before taking a sip.
But even in her increasingly cloudy brain, the whole scenario made her think of Jamie. She knew the Spencer thing was, in some way, a sore subject for him. Then again, it was for Brynn, too. She’d made Jamie promise never to talk about what had happened between them, and here she was, getting the chance to wipe the slate clean. At least, that’s what she hoped, that kissing Spencer would work like time travel, giving her the chance to erase a painful past. Because, try as she might, Brynn had never truly gotten past Jamie rejecting her. She’d forgotten all about Spencer the night Jamie took care of her. Tonight she hoped Spencer would finally help her forget how her best friend cracked her teenage heart wide open.
She finished her pint and slid off the stool, overtaken by a sudden rush of bravado and the need to get this whole turning-back-time thing underway. She marched over to the circle of people surrounding Spencer and inserted herself into the spot to his left.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Spencer was just telling us about his big launch party in L.A. in a couple weeks.”
Stacy Fletcher, head of the reunion committee, let her hand fall on Spencer’s chest as she said this, flirting with him like she was sure he was going home with her. Spencer smiled at Stacy, and Brynn took a mental snapshot of the two, their matching blond hair and overall look of having their shit together. Stacy was gorgeous, already a successful real estate attorney, and Brynn couldn’t help but stare at the way Stacy’s breasts bubbled over the taut material of her strapless navy dress. It was like they were trying to escape. Who knows? Maybe one would make a break for it at some point during the evening.
Brynn looked down at her turtleneck sweater dress. Maybe it did hug her curves in all the right places, but her boobs were no competition for Stacy’s virtual waterfall of flesh.
“It’s not a big deal,” Spencer said, his modesty coupled with a shy smile making Brynn’s knees turn to jelly. “Just a small party at a local bookseller. If any of you are in town, you should stop by.” He turned to Brynn then. “What are the odds of you making your way to L.A. in the next couple of weeks?”
An invitation, just for her. But California in two weeks? It wasn’t quite within her budget, and what was she going to do? Travel across the country for a crush? Granted the crush was pretty severe, Brynn’s seventeen-year-old fantasies rising to the surface. No. Spencer was more than a crush. He was the answer—the answer to the stagnancy in her life.
Brynn shrugged. “Not impossible,” she said, and Spencer beamed. “Hey,” she added. “Would you like to grab a drink—somewhere a little quieter?”
It was go time. If she was going to test the Spencer Matthews theory, it was high time she started experimenting.
He laced his fingers through hers.
“Excuse us everyone. We’ll be back in a bit.” Then he focused on Brynn. “Lead the way,” he said, and she did. First stop, the empty bar at the top of the stairs. The bottle and shot glasses were still there, and now they were in her hands.
“I like the way you think,” Spencer said, and she bit down on her lip, trying to contain her nerves.
“Here we are,” she said as they stood in front of a closed door, one adorned with nothing but a small name plaque that read office. “I know the owner,” she said. “We can hide out in here…if you want.”
Spencer looked from the door to her. Then he licked his top lip, and Brynn almost lost it right there.
“Isn’t Jamie Kingston the owner?” he asked, raising a brow, and Brynn nodded. “You two are still…close?”
Really? This was going to turn into a conversation about her and Jamie? This is supposed to be a do-over. Not a repeat of senior year. She rolled her eyes.
“What?” Spencer laughed. “You two went to every dance together senior year. Everyone assumed you were together. I sure as hell did, especially when you never made it to Becket’s party. I always figured I was crushing on another guy’s girl.”
Whoa. This was too much for Brynn to process—Spencer crushing on her and the thought of her being Jamie’s girl…?
Time to get things moving.
She didn’t respond but instead knocked softly, then tried the handle, and the door opened with ease. Spencer walked through first, and she f
ollowed, closing and locking the door behind her. She unscrewed the bottle and poured them each a shot. Time for a final toast, one to solidify tonight as a shift in her reality. Everything would be different after this moment.
“Cheers,” he said.
“Cheers.”
Brynn let the heat from the liquid permeate her veins, melting away the twinge of something she didn’t want to recognize, an emotion she had no business feeling at a time like this. When Jamie was with Liz, he didn’t feel like he was cheating on her. So why was her stomach in knots? Why did she need the liquid courage to do what Jamie had no problem doing every night he was with someone else?
No. No guilt. This is my night.
She slammed her empty glass down on Jamie’s desk and giggled, the alcohol winning out over logic. Jamie’s desk. Was she really going to do this here? Now?
“No time like the present,” Brynn said aloud, answering her own question. And she pushed Spencer down into Jamie’s chair.
…
Light. That was the only way to describe how Jamie felt as he headed back to the ale house. Like a weight had been lifted, like everything was going to be better from here on out. Not that things were bad. He hadn’t been suffering or miserable or anything that made life less than okay. But that’s just it. Things had only ever been okay. And he wanted better. No. He wanted amazing.
He still couldn’t get over how easy things had been with Liz.
“It’s okay, James,” she’d said when he showed up in the ER waiting room an hour ago, asking to see her. As soon as Annie had forced him to admit what he felt out loud, he had no choice but to end things with Liz and tell Brynn the truth. “I like you a lot, but I knew you weren’t in it for the long haul.”
She knew?
“I’m not ready to settle down, and you’ve got that vibe, you know?”
Vibe? He asked the question only to himself, but Liz had answered.
“You’re waiting for something. Not sure what, but I don’t think we were it. No big deal, okay? It was fun.”
Fun.