He hadn’t voiced any complaints and told me he was doing fine when I asked. But I didn’t miss the tightness in his shoulders or the fact that he chose a table far from the bar, his back facing the crowd.
The bartender bustles off to fill a glass with Sprite and I sidle up next to the mystery admirer, hoping to nip this in the bud.
“If you’re dreaming about Max you’re barking up the wrong tree. He’s engaged.” I sip my drink and add, “To my best friend.”
The girl startles at my words, clearly having not noticed me standing there until I spoke. Apparently she was too busy eye-fucking one of the Davis boys.
“I’m not.” She shouts over the noise.
I can still barely hear her over the chatter around us and the sound of Lacey’s velvety voice coming from the speaker a few feet away.
Chris exits the bathroom and makes his way back to our table. He looks confused when he gets there to find me MIA and looks around the crowd. Looking for me.
Our eyes meet across the room and I manage a reassuring smile. Satisfied, he turns back to Max and starts talking. That leaves me with the mystery girl and a busy bartender, compelling me to straighten this girl out.
“Well if you’re dreaming about Chris you’re also barking up the wrong tree because I’ll kick your ass.”
“Are you his girlfriend?” She continues to stare at the table. At the guys.
What the hell is wrong with this girl? Was she fucking wasted? That’s the only explanation I can think of for this weird behavior. She didn’t even seem appropriately abashed.
“No. I’m not sure what we are exactly. So stay the hell away from him while we figure it out.”
“It’s not like that…I told you.”
When she looks up at me I’m the one startled by her eyes. Hazel. They stand out against her olive toned skin. Almost the same as Chris and Max’s…
The wind is knocked out of me at the sight of her familiar eyes and I ignore the tequila sunrise and Sprite waiting for me on top of the bar. People are waiting to order and pushing forward impatiently but I remain frozen in place.
My mind races to process this new information and sensory overload.
I’m staring speechlessly at this mystery girl with eerily familiar eyes. She stares back at me and I’m at a loss for words. She finally looks embarrassed to be caught staring but her eyes drift back to them again as if she can’t help herself.
This time I don’t try to draw her attention away.
The similarities between her and the guys are uncanny. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection the first time I saw her hanging around the hospital. They have the same face shape, coloring. Everything.
My only excuse is that I was distraught and distracted the first night I saw her. Pure terror over Chris’s accident must have blocked my mind from making the comparison that day.
“What did you say your name was?” I ask, finding my voice.
“I didn’t.”
Without another word she disappears into the crowd. I lose sight of her almost immediately, the dimmed lights and tequila in my system blurring my vision just enough to throw me off.
I think about chasing after her but with as many people that are packed into this small space my chances are slim to none. Even my tipsy mind can admit that. So I grab the two drinks and take them back to our table, handing Chris his Sprite. He casts me a curious look and as if to ask if I’m okay. I nod and take a hefty gulp of my drink to hide the bold lie.
I spend the rest of the night distracted, visually scanning the room for the girl but I don’t see her again.
☠ Chapter Nineteen ☠
Chris
Nat has acted fucking weird all night. Well, ever since she got back from the bar earlier.
At first I thought maybe she just had too much to drink. I considered giving her my Sprite to sober her up but then I watched her looking around the bar as if she’s searching for someone and I know it can’t be just the liquor.
Then I wonder if some guy was hitting on her when she got our drinks. Maybe a mouthy dick that needed his ass kicked. Something was definitely wrong. But she keeps lying every time I ask what it is.
When Lacey finishes her set we all walk across the street to the twenty-four hour diner to order burgers and milkshakes. Lacey is on an adrenaline high from her performance and Nat doesn’t make a peep as we squeeze into a corner booth and look over the menus.
That leaves me and Max to carry the conversation. I can’t help but give him a hard time for ordering a grilled chicken burger on wheat bread. This diet never fails. He reaches across the table to try to smack my bacon cheese burger out of my hands but misses. I make a production out of shoving a huge bite in my mouth and letting grease drip onto my plate.
“Gross.” He complains, choking out a laugh. “You’re disgusting.”
I chew with my mouth open, obnoxious on purpose just to rattle his chain. He throws a sweet potato fry at me and I dodge it. It goes flying to the booth behind me. Thankfully no ones in it or we would have some explaining to do.
“Now that’s gross. Sweet potato fries? You can’t call yourself a man.”
I look over at the plate next to mine and find Natalie has barely nibbled on her burger. I bump her knee with mine. She looks up and pastes on a smile but I can see it isn’t genuine.
Enough is enough. I need to know what’s wrong.
Grabbing my phone, I send her a text even though the two of us are sitting right next to each other. There’s no way she’s going to tell me anything with Max and Lacey sitting across from us. This was too personal for an audience, I could tell.
She picks up a fry and nibbles on the end to appease me but doesn’t go for the burger. This shit wasn’t like her at all. Food was our vice. We ate. That was what we did and I was getting more worried the longer she acted so distant and morose.
Chris: Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you tonight?
Natalie: Nothing. I told you.
Chris: Ok. So the lies continue.
Natalie: I’m just tired, that’s all.
Chris: More lies.
She rolls her eyes but laughs in annoyance at me and starts actually eating her dinner instead of pushing fries around her plate aimlessly. She takes slow bites but I’m satisfied that she’s actually eating and seems to be out of her trance. This still isn’t the Natalie I know but I’m willing to ignore it for now.
When she’s done eating we head back home and I do my best to give her some space. It takes real effort. I manage to not ask her what’s wrong for the hundredth time which I think she appreciates.
That doesn’t stop me from crawling into her bed for the night.
☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠
The next morning everything is back to normal. It’s like Natalie’s strange behavior never happened at all and I almost wonder if I imagined it entirely. Maybe she was telling the truth about being tired and I was just reading too much into it. A part of my mind nags that that’s not true. I do know her well enough to tell when she’s off, can pick up on her nuances and little signs she doesn’t even mean to show.
She makes us scrambled eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast and I pour us each a cup of coffee with a splash of hazelnut creamer, her favorite.
“You want to go with me to the car lot today? I need to find a new car. I feel like a bum without one.”
“Sure.” She smiles and finishes eating the last bite of her toast, bringing her dishes to the sink.
I do the same with mine and rinse them off while she disappears down the hall, presumably to her closet so she can get dressed. I follow behind her when I finish loading the dishwasher and find her just where I expected, through clothes and going through drawers.
“What kind of car do you want?”
“I’m not sure.” I call out loud enough to hear from inside the closet. “Something fast.”
“Like…a racecar?”
“No, not a racecar.” I laugh. “
But I’m not sure what I want yet. That’s why I need your help. You always know what’s best for me.”
She comes out of the closet with a handful of clothes, beaming at my words. “Thank you.”
“It’s true.”
“I know. Now get out so I can get dressed.”
She shoves my shoulder and I laugh as I step out into the hall. The door swings shut behind me and I wait for her to change, trying not to imagine the sights I’m missing behind this door.
☠ Chapter Twenty ☠
Natalie
We go to two car lots and he doesn’t find anything he likes. He passes up Mustangs and shiny Cameros. Turns his nose up at more practical vehicles like Accords and Corollas. He looks at a few trucks and even test drives one but nothing really grabs his attention for longer than a few minutes.
Then somehow we end up at a Kowasaki shop looking at street bikes. It was on our way home after it seemed as if the day had been a bust. Initially he pulled in to the lot and suggested we go inside for fun since we hadn’t found anything worth buying today.
Then he gravitated to a row of street bikes and I knew it was more than boredom and curiosity that brought us here. He wanted one.
“How did we end up here?” I whisper harshly as the sales girl grabs the keys to one of the bikes from the back office.
He had been admiring the same bike for several minutes before she ambled over to us and showed him a few features, offering him a test drive. The offer had his smile widening like a kid on Christmas morning.
The idea of him zipping down the street on the back of one of these bikes sets my nerves on edge. Not wearing a seatbelt in the car was bad enough. There wasn’t even a seatbelt option on this thing.
Did he learn nothing from his accident? He wasn’t immortal. One pothole would send him flying through the air and smacking against the pavement. Not to mention a helmet couldn’t save you if your entire body collided with a Mack truck.
“This place is awesome.” He whispers back loudly, stopping at a solid black bike with matte paint, completely oblivious to my racing thoughts and conflicted emotions. “Come for a ride with me.”
He wasn’t half this excited about any of the cars or trucks we looked at all morning. I can already see this is where our shopping trip will end. A ball of dread forms in the pit of my stomach, weighing me down.
He doesn’t wait for me to respond before grabbing two helmets and handing one to me. I give him a pleading look but pull it over my head, fumbling with the chin strap. With a smirk Chris steps forward and fastens it for me.
The sales girl returns with the key and hands it over, letting her touch linger way too long as she places he keys in his palm. She gives him a flirty smile that he seems to notice but ignores the best he can. First the nurse at the hospital and now this girl?
It’s harder for me to ignore it than it is for him and the ball of dread is replaced by something else. Jealousy.
“This is a really bad idea, Chris.”
“So bad.” He smirks wider, swinging his leg over the bike. “Hop on, Nat.”
I hesitate briefly, eying the bike like it’s going to sprout fangs or burst into flames.
“If you don’t I will.” The sales girl tells me, her eyes fixated on Chris the whole time she speaks.
Annoyed with her, I swing my leg over the back of the bike and quickly find the bars intended for my feet. He slowly pulls out of the covered garage shop and steers us onto a side street. I cling tightly around his torso, letting my hands freely touch his abs through the thin cotton shirt.
How the hell can he eat the way he does and feel this defined? His muscles tensed under my fingertips. All the bacon and late night Rocky Road sure as hell wasn’t affecting his physique.
My helmet visor presses into his back as he picks up speed right when we’re out of view from the garage. Squealing, I tighten my grip round him and squeeze my eyes closed.
The speed and wind whipping my hair around my face is such a rush. Almost like zip lining above the trees or jumping from a bridge with a bungee cord tied to my ankles. Not that I would know. But those were both on the bucket list.
Surprisingly I actually loved the ride.
We go down all the back roads in town seeing what the bike could do before pulling onto the highway. He zips through traffic erratically, just as I worried he would.
Pinching his stomach when he makes me nervous seems to get his attention, warning him to slow his ass down. I can’t see the speedometer but I imagine we’re well above the speed limit. By about twenty to thirty miles an hour it feels like.
When we make it back to the garage I hop off the back and remove my helmet. My hair is wild and tangled and I try to comb through it with my fingers to gain a semblance of control. The smile on my face can’t be wiped away. I shake out the last of the tangles as he takes his helmet off and pulls me in for an adrenaline induced kiss.
“You loved it.” He smiles down at me, as high on the thrill of adventure as me, and presses his lips to mine again.
“I did. That was fun.”
“I’m buying it.”
And there goes my smile, disappearing from my face faster than it took the old me to take her clothes off for money.
The bike was fun for a quick ride on our way home. But buying it? Worrying about his safety every time he goes anywhere? That was too much.
“Please don’t.”
He rears back in surprise, clearly having expected me to be on board. “What? You just said you loved it. I loved it too. So…”
“I did, I just…” Worry about you.
“Just what?” He demands, his tone short as he stares at me expectantly. The sales girl pretends to stand back and give us space to talk about it. In reality the bitch was listening to every word and her victorious smirk at the sight of us bickering is proof.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Chris scoffs and raises his voice, openly annoyed now. “Well, I do.”
The girl decides that’s a good moment to interject. “I do too. This bike is so sexy.”
She runs her hand suggestively over the seat and pushes her chest out almost imperceptivity. Her uniform tank exposes plenty of her tits and I recognize the blatantly seductive move. I had done it often enough in the past to see it for what it was.
Watching her set her sights on Chris and rubbing it in my face annoys the living shit out of me. And he was just going to stand there and pretend to be blind and stupid? I wasn’t buying it.
“This is a really great price right now too.” She adds, completely unconcerned with the fact that she interrupted our conversation.
I give her the dirtiest look I can muster, hoping she takes the hint and fucks off. Chris shakes his head at my expression, acting as if I was pissed solely about the bike he was hell bent on buying. In reality my anger over this intruder was equal if not stronger. We could talk about the bike together, privately, but seeing her have the audacity to insert her nose, and tits, where they didn’t belong?
Hell no.
“I’ll take it.” He turns away from me and to this bitch that closes the distance between us with the shit eating grin of someone that just made some hefty commission, not to mention the personal satisfaction of beating me in this tug of war.
Irritation ignites in my nerves at his attitude. Why did he ask me to come along and help him decide if he didn’t give a shit what I thought? He clearly wants to impress this girl more than listen to what I think.
This wasn’t even like him at all and I was shocked at the shift in his demeanor all of a sudden. He was acting like I was being bossy and unreasonable and maybe I was but he wasn’t even pretending to listen and take my opinion into account. That was so far from the man I had been living with. The man I kissed good morning.
“Fine. Get whatever the hell you want.”
He ignores my comment and follows the girl to the front desk to discuss the payment and all the accessories he might need like a
helmet so his head doesn’t wind up cracked open on the pavement like a fucking egg.
My stomach lurches at the thought but I remain silent, still seething at the way this whole thing was playing out.
I follow behind him to the counter and wait around quietly while she draws up paperwork for him to sign.
I scroll through Instagram posts and wedding boards on Pinterest to send Lacey ideas. Anything to distract me and keep my anger in check and under wraps.
She helps him pick a helmet that matches the bike as I stand off to the side, forgotten. She croons on about how sexy the helmet will look on him. When he adds a second helmet to his order, clearly feminine in size and color, she makes some sly remark about getting a ride sometime.
I roll my eyes so far back in my head it hurts. He comes back to the counter and still doesn’t fucking talk to me.
I’m done.
Tired of standing around with him I shove my phone back in my purse and pull out my car keys. “Well I’m heading home. You good to get home?”
“Yes. I don’t need a babysitter.”
I bite back a scathing remark, dig my sunglasses from my purse and shove them on my face to cover the tears stinging my eyes. No way was I going to cry over this.
Not waiting for him to turn his attention back to this girl trying so desperately to flirt with him, I walk to my car and slam the door once I’m inside.
We’ve never argued. Ever. Never even came close to an argument and I really don’t know what to make of this snippy conversation and his sudden defensiveness. I had seen him argue with plenty of people in the past, knew he could be an ass sometimes, but I had never been on the receiving end.
What the hell was going on between us right now?
We weren’t together. Not really. We never had the talk about what we were or what it meant and I hadn’t thought it was necessary at all until a few minutes ago. In my mind we hadn’t needed a label on whatever this was that was blossoming. But watching him turn his back on me and have this girl throwing herself at him made me suddenly question what this was.
Flying High (Davis Brothers Book 2) Page 12