Page 18 of It Never Was

"I feel good about my abilities to be able to successfully do that for your shop, sir. I hope I can fill the shoes for this position, even if it is a fraction of what Ryen does." I can feel Parker shift his eyes to meet Paul's, and I take the opportunity to glance his way. His skin is so smooth, and my gaze wanders down his jaw line to his neck where I see a tattoo at the base that travels beneath his shirt so I can't quite make it out. Goosebumps run up my back as I notice Parker's eyes are back on me. The way he keeps looking at me has me so confused. I can't tell what his eyes are saying. All I know is that they are making my world spin.

"I am sure you do," I say, looking up at him. His lips form a small grin as he continues to look me over. There is no way I can work with him here if he keeps looking at me like this.

"Well, Parker, we do have one more interview today, but we will be in touch by next week. I will say, I am not sure I can afford you." Paul stands up and shakes his hand, breaking Parker's eye contact with me.

"I assure you, Paul, you can afford me." Parker shakes Paul's hand firmly while I remain in my seat watching their exchange. "I hope to be working with you both in the future. Ryen, it was great to meet you as well." Parker's hand reaches out to me.

"It was nice to meet you too, Parker." I shake his hand and can't help but feel the warmth of his skin move up my arm and into my chest. He looks at where our hands are connected and then gives me one last grin before letting go, making his way out of the shop. Those eyes, that grin, his fucking touch. I don't think I will ever be able to forget them. I find myself hoping he gets the job but also hoping he doesn't, because I am not sure I can handle Parker for a whole shift if this short time in the interview was any indication of how it would be.

"Way too qualified, right?" Paul asks me as I keep my eyes on the door.

"I don't think so. He is the only one with real baking experience that we have interviewed," I say as I turn to Paul, who is rubbing the back of his neck. "But it is your choice. You are the boss. Maybe the next interview will be a happy middle. If not, you could always give Parker your best offer. What is the worst he says? No? Then we will keep looking." My glance goes back to the door where Parker left, hoping to get another glimpse even though he is more than gone.

"Maybe," Paul says, sitting back down.

The next interview was not a happy middle. It was a dumpster fire.

8

Ryen

As I walk back toward the coffee shop from campus, the same image of the way Parker looked at me earlier today replays in my head. It distracted me all day throughout my classes. When I was supposed to be taking notes during lecture, I was reminiscing at the touch of his warm palm in mine, and every time I thought about his eyes my skin formed goosebumps. I can't help but smirk. I shouldn't be thinking about this. I shouldn't be feeling this warmth in my cheeks.

A ping of guilt hits my gut, and my palms go clammy. What would Devon do if he knew what I was thinking? I swallow hard, my mouth going dry at the thought. Shaking my head to remove the mental image, the glimpse of electric blue from my peripheral vision makes me avert my eyes its way. The shine is coming from a 2018 Mustang parked at the end of the campus parking lot, the yellow lights above making the shimmer in the paint cast a green coat across the hood of the car. It's Devon's car. Why would Devon be parked here? He never comes to campus. He usually just meets me at the shop after class if he wants to talk. I squint my eyes to make out if there is a figure in the driver's seat. Before I can finish my search, a pair of hands grabs my arms tightly, pulling me towards them. I let out a yelp, the smell of musk and whiskey enveloping my senses. Spinning around, a pair of brown eyes look down at me. They look as if they are on fire.

"Devon, it's you. Geez," I say, trying to get out of his firm grip, but he doesn't ease up on his hold.

Goosebumps break out across my body.

"Where were you?" His breath penetrates my nose, the smell of whiskey much stronger than before.

"Class, why? Are you okay?" my voice shakes.

His voice turns sour. "I was at the shop waiting for you, but you never showed. Where. Were. You?" My throat contracts, the all too familiar feeling of panic starting to set in.

"I was in class, Devon." I attempt to shake him off again, but he just leads me to his car, keeping his firm grip on my arms.

"Bullshit," he hisses at me. "Your class was over thirty minutes ago, Ryen,"

We finally reached his car, and my spine met the metal frame of the driver's door hard. I let out a gasp.

"Devon…let go, it hurts," I whisper to him, glancing around to see if anybody is looking. Students are just going about their evening, no one even sparing us a glance.

"Oh, it hurts?" he mocks, bringing his nose to meet mine. "You know what hurts, Ryen? When your girlfriend lies straight to your fucking face." I can feel his hot breath on my lips.

"What are you talking about, Devon? How am I lying?"

My face must be showing my confusion because Devon spits out, "Get that dumb look off your face, Ryen. Do you think I am stupid or something?" His breath hits my face as he talks, and I try to hold my breath because the smell of liquor is becoming overbearing. "I might not be in college like you are, but I'm not an idiot!" I wince as his voice sharpens.

"I don't think you are stupid; I just don't understand why you think I wasn't in class," I say, my eyes looking to the ground. I don't know why I am afraid to look him in the eyes.

"You are fucking someone else, aren't you?" The words slur a bit at the end.

"NO!" I say louder than intended, surprised at the turn of events.

I look straight at him now, realizing why I didn't want to look before.

He looks like he did the night he was outside my house when he was upset about my phone being off. Anger is consuming him; his eyes are burning through mine and his face is pinched in disgust as he looks my whole face over. I try to swallow down the fear and bile rising up my throat. I shouldn't be scared; it's Devon. He loves me. He wouldn't do anything. He is just a little drunk and confused. I try to push away the feeling of fear that is bubbling up in my chest.

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