Page 42 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

I love ladies’ night.

My gaze tracks the server on her way toward me when she makes an abrupt turn back to the bar. “Shit,” I groan and drop my chin into my palm. I watch as she places empty glasses on the bar top before checking in with the only guy sitting at the bar, and my whole body tenses.

Sam.

Of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s everywhere I don’t want him.

Narrowing my eyes, I study him. He’s by himself. No friends around, no girls crowding him, just alone. And he looks grumpy. His posture is slouched as he languidly nurses a beer. I wonder what’s eating him? Probably that giant stick up his ass.

A sudden movement pulls my focus to the side, where I find a guy at a nearby table smiling at me. Before I can stop myself, I smile back. Idiot move, Brynn. The guy slides off his stool and heads my way, undoubtedly to ask me to dance.

Great. Now, I get to choose one of my many rejection lines. Part of me always feels bad, but it’s nothing personal. I don’t dance with anyone.

A traitorous flash of a memory reminds me I did dance with Sam.

My gaze flicks to him, our intimate two-step playing in my mind. A rebellious smile pulls at my lips as I think about the ambiance of the sunset, the look in his eyes, the warmth of his touch. The way my name sounded on his lips.

“Hey,” a gruff voice says, ripping me out of my reverie.

Shaking my head, I blink rapidly to find the guy from the next table standing in front of me. “Hey.”

“Mind if I sit down?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer before he slides out a stool.

“Um, sure.” I turn my head between him and the dance floor, hoping one of my friends is on their way back. I’m not that lucky.

“I’m Troy.”

He holds out his hand, so I shake it. “Brynn.”

“Nice,” he says, as a slimy smile inches across his face. “I saw you on the dance floor. Hot stuff out there.”

I give him a tight smile as I glance away. When I do, I see Sam now watching us from the bar. His posture is more rigid, like he’s on alert, and he’s gripping his beer pretty tight, but not drinking it. Odd.

“Looks like you need a refill,” Troy says, eyeing my empty glass as he waves down the server.

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t need?”

“Don’t mention it.” He flashes me a confident smile before ordering two rum and Cokes.

Irritation bubbles inside me. I mean, I like rum and Coke, but he didn’t even ask what I wanted.

“So, Brynn, do you go to UNC?”

“Yep. It’s my last year as a chemistry major.”

“Chemistry? Cool.” His lackluster tone sounds anything but impressed. “I’m in Sports and Exercise Science with a minor in Business. I’m planning on opening my own gym one day.”

My eyes scan Troy’s muscular build. It’s not surprising he wants to open a gym.

As I continue to smile and nod through Troy’s talking, I don’t really listen much. I’m too intrigued by Sam’s body language. I chime in with a generic response here and there, making sure to make eye contact with Troy a few times, but I’m more focused on Sam.

His behavior is so strange. When I first noticed him at the bar, I didn’t even think he knew I was here. Now, I know he knows I’m here, and based on his facial expression, I’d say he’s not happy about it. Maybe he’s just as pissed about our blowout after class as I am. Maybe seeing my face just ruined his night.

Good. He deserves it.

“Here you go. Two rum and Cokes,” the server says.

As she moves to set our glasses down, Troy holds out his hands to take them from her. He slides mine to me, but doesn’t let go. When I reach for it, he brushes his fingers along mine before holding his glass up. “Cheers,” he says.

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