Page 21 of Bring You Back

I just nod.

If I thought thisthingbetween Reyna and Julian was serious, or even has the potential to be serious, I’d be more supportive. I’d try to get over it. I’d mind my own business. I’m good at that. But it’s not. It can’t be. So I can’t be.

She’s watching me, waiting for a response. Hoping I’ll give more of a reaction to her finally getting the one guy she’s always wanted. Little does she know, the one guy who actually wantsherisn’t closed away in a bedroom, but standing right beside her.

Tommy catches my stare with a knowing look, and as soon as I give a deadpanned, “Congratulations” to Reyna, he coughs loudly around a mouthful of food, saving her from a potential argument involving a few truths about her situation with Julian, as well as a few other choice words from me.

See, Reyna knows what almost happened between me and Julian last summer. What would have happened had she not interrupted us. As we all know, though, she saw him first. She had feelings for him first. So even if I am the one he had returned those feelings for, he still belongs to her. That’s how it works, right?

In her mind, it does.

In her mind, I left, and Julian got over me.

In her mind, his feelings are now for her.

In her mind, she’s doing nothing wrong.

The wrongdoer is me.

I look at Tommy. Little does Reyna also know, Julian is a wrongdoer, too.

“Ooh, A Flying Grit!” she chimes down at Tommy’s box.

“‘I don’t give a flying gritwhosaid it!’”

Tommy starts the phrase, and Reyna and I finish it with him, punctuated by our laughter. The story goes that when A Flying Grit opened, the restaurant didn’t have a name. Sammy overheard a customer bitching out another customer who yelled the phrase, and the rest is title history.

Reyna’s stare meets mine again, her face still lit up with memories she and I share before her face dims with the reminder that now’s not the time to skip down memory lane. At least not together.

I used to scribble words, thoughts, things that were going on around me in that moment onto my carry-out boxes with Sharpie, and Reyna would draw scenes from my words onto hers. It was one of our favorite things to do.

She eyes Tommy and holds her mouth open to accept the bite he forked. It’s completely innocent on her part, but Tommy looks like he’s about to have a coronary. Clearly, she’s never offered him her open mouth. I stifle a laugh.

“Feed me,” she nudges to Tommy’s shell-shocked demeanor.

He sputters. “What?”

She takes the fork from his hand with a laugh and feeds herself instead. Complete with a moan that I’m sure does wonders for Tommy’s fantasies. “Never gets old.” She swallows her bite with a glance toward the hall. She gives us both a parting smile and heads after Julian.

Tommy turns his head to watch her leave, his mouth pressed into his shoulder. When he looks back at me, I unleash my laughter.

“Smooth.”

“What?” he says again, then goes for an excuse. “I have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, one who doesn’t completely have you,” I say before reminding myself that this isn’t my battle. Tommy’s far off look and lack of rebuttal tells me he realizes he needs to do something about this war.

Before I can question him, Banks parades back in from the guest room and announces, “Forgot my bag.”

Tommy springs toward him, and Banks, noticing the charge, moves faster, the two in a race to the duffel, both grabbing the strap at the same time.

“What are you doing?” Banks shouts the question as Tommy pulls them toward the front door. They’re in a tug of war reminiscent of our earlier one.

“Julian doesn’t want you here, so you’re leaving.”

“He doesn’t mean it!”

Tommy yanks Banks’s lanky ass closer and closer to the door. “What about her?” Banks tosses at me before Tommy gives a final yank that sends Banks past him and out the open door with a final shout. “Treating me like a fucking stray!”

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