Page 15 of Love Starves

When the guy rounds Blythe's hood heading for the front seat, I'm positive I'll be breaking up a fight at this point. Amazed, I sink into the leather seat as Crue drops behind the wheel. He normally drives like a maniac, but out of stealth I'm sure, he tones it down so we can follow at a decent pace behind them.

Breaking the silence, his voice is barely over a growl, "He's clean."

He doesn't give me the chance to even ask how that could be a bad thing before he continues, "Too fucking clean. Why the fuck is she going out with this dude? If she wanted goddamn lunch, all she had to do was text any of us."

We let his words brew in the silence between us. If he'd have seen the interaction between the two of them in that class, he wouldn't need to wonder why. Though, I'm pretty sure if he'd have been there, this would one hundred percent be having a different outcome. One of us would be headed to the police station with a lawyer to try and bail the hothead out of custody. Which leaves a sick feeling in my gut. How is this going to be any different? Especially if this Ryan guy touches our girl again. I might've made a huge mistake in my rush to find out more about him.

I don't get more time to dwell on bad decisions when Crue parks us several spots behind Blythe, and we watch as the two of them get out and head inside the restaurant. At least the dude has enough decency to open the door for her.

"Are we going to jail today?" I ask Crue as he makes a grab for the door handle. "Should I go ahead and send out an S.O.S?"

The only reply I get is a harsh exhale of air as he slams his door open with enough force to have it groaning on its hinges. Okay then. Play by ear, I guess. Walking inside the eatery, it's not difficult to locate our girl since they're sitting at the front windows. Completely ignoring the hostess trying to seat us, Crue stalks right by her and chooses a table where we've both got visual access to their date without having to both sit on the same side of the table. When the waitress makes her way to our table, she has to shuffle out of the way when Crue motions with his finger for her to move.

I shoot her an apologetic smile as I order for the two of us, "We'll just take a couple cokes and the grilled chicken salad lunch specials."

She nods and hurries off without glancing in Crue's direction again. To an outsider’s view, the man truly can be intimidating. From the sharp angles of a face that never wears an expression other than fury or disgust down to muscles that rival the size of Van's, and that's saying something. Add both of those to the sheer magnitude of his hostile personality that rolls off him in waves, I'm surprised he actually manages to go days without fighting—in the ring or out. As much non-friendly vibes as he puts out into the universe, he makes up for in intelligence. There's a reason he's our resident computer whiz. I wouldn't be caught dead sharing my thoughts out loud, but I'm fairly certain that not even the government would be able to hide from him if he put his mind to finding them.

"You know I'm not eating that shit," he all but growls under his breath without taking his eyes off the other table.

I shrug, knowing he'll see the movement in his peripheral. "Didn't figure you would. Just didn't want to look like a couple of stalkers sitting here not ordering anything."

His eyes cut to me for a few seconds before flicking back over. Knowing him for as long as I have, I'm aware that was his version of thanks for thinking like a normie while he psychos out on someone. He doesn't spare a glance for the waitress as she brings our drinks and lunch over. The only reason that I know he's not gone completely is how his elbows move to the table and his fists are now clenching tight in front of his lips. Risking a peek over to where he's glaring, it's just in time to watch a frown flash across her beautiful face. In the time I'd sat focused on Crue and making sure he didn't explode; the pair had already received and finished their food.

The frown quickly turns into a grimace as she excuses herself and stands up to move away from the table. Instincts ride me hard, demanding I follow her to find out what's wrong and make it better. Crue just beats me to it. Though I do believe there's a massive difference in how we'd be completing the task. A twinge of jealousy stirs in my gut, realizing what's about to go down. Then again, at the same time, relief flows through me that I'm the one left to study this guy who just randomly shows up in our girl's life one day and automatically gets a first date from her. A feat that none of us have managed even though we've all had sex with her. It dawns on me that there's no way this is their first interaction. There was entirely too much familiarity in her gaze there in the classroom.

My eyes narrow slightly at the form now hunched over his phone at the table. He's typing away at it furiously. If there were a way I thought I could cleverly get away with it, I'd do a casual walk by and scope out what he's doing. Just to be sure for Blythe's sake. At least that's what I'm telling myself anyway.

Two women stroll away giggling to each other from the direction Blythe and Crue disappeared toward the restrooms. One would have to be an idiot to not know what's going on back there after witnessing that. Letting my gaze wander back towards the guy who started it all, I find him with his face still buried in his phone not paying attention to anything around him. For more than obvious reasons, something about him gives me negative vibes.

Munching on my salad to keep up the appearance of being a normal dude who simply stopped in for lunch with a friend, I impatiently wait for the two to come back out all the while keeping an eye on new guy by the window. He seems to have finished whatever had him so enthralled on his phone, but that means he's now checking around the restaurant for his date. The food hits my throat like a brick at the thought of that word. No matter what's going on behind that closed door back there, our girl is still going to come out and leave with thiscleanasshole. At least we know it hasn't gone Mr. and Mrs. Smith back there since the building is still standing. Maybe Crue will fuck her good enough she'll send this guy packing and finally let one of us take care of her instead.

Should've known that was wishful thinking.

Crue emerges first with his mohawk looking like he stuck it under the hairdryer where it's not sticking to his sweaty forehead and a satisfied smirk raising his cheeks. Dropping into his seat, he manages to stuff three big bites into his mouth before Blythe comes stalking out. And when I say stalking, that's what it means, because she looks super pissed. Jerking her purse up and throwing it over her shoulder, she flinches away from the hand that reaches for her face. I can't hear the exchange, but it's clear she shut him down before he could blink, since he quickly slides out of his seat.

I have a few seconds of hope that Crue performed a damn miracle. Then those ice-cold blue eyes find mine, and I know we're fucked. And not in the way she just was. Fire burns deep in the depths so brightly that I'm surprised we don't go up in a blaze from it where we sit. Smiling apologetically while internally shouting glory, I drop my chin, letting Crue get smacked full force with it all on his own. A huff of air leaves his lungs and I look up in time to catch his expression morphing from murder to smug. Then a breeze whips across us as the door opens and the pair walk out.

We have front row seats to the pathetic attempt of the guy trying to put moves on our girl. Crue's teeth grind hard enough that I can hear it from across the table when Blythe reaches up and presses her lips against his cheek. No kissing is a rule, so I'm not ashamed to admit to the jealousy that stirs back up in my chest at the ease in which this joker was rewarded one. I'd be a dishonest man if I said I didn't want to pummel him right through the ground at the sight. Hell is going to break loose anyway. All I've got to do is sit back and wait for Kenji or Deklyn to lose their shit and do it in a way that won't cause a scene in the middle of the day. His day of reckoning is coming, and I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

It's been almost a solid two full weeks since the first book club meeting. Two weeks. Two appointments with Dr. Geoff. Zero calls to any of the guys, including Ryan. I've been avoiding Sociology class like the plague so that I don't have to see either him or Nick. The lie of mono was easy enough for my professors to accept and allow me to submit all my work online. Feeling like a coward and not giving a damn, I steer clear of everyone. Not like it's too hard of a task anyway. After Crue's hardcore breaking of the rules, none of them have reached out like I half expected after his savage display. My lovely parentals have gone radio silent. It could be several weeks or more before I hear from them, or their assistants again. As a matter of fact, the only action my phone has gotten recently was a message or two from the book club, announcing time and place for our next meeting. Being honest with myself, I'm actually a bit anxious and excited to do this damn thing tonight. I liked their spunk at the last meeting. Plus, it's been a pretty lonely couple weeks. Dr. Geoff is no kind of company. Especially when I've been withholding information from him. Something in my chest demanded I keep the secret of mine and Crue's interlude to myself. I really didn't want to share it with Geoff. So, against one of his policies, I'd held it close.

Worse even than keeping the secret is that I've been getting myself off over and over to the memory of how controlling and demanding he was in that restaurant. I've let out more than one dry laugh, too, at the reminder of the expression that employee wore while knowing good and well what we'd been doing. Then I go back to hating him and myself for being so weak.

Pulling up to the address Jolene texted us, I see a few of the girls have already beat me here. I'd stopped at the cheesery downtown for a cheese board to go good with the wine I'd looted from our basement. Not like my parents would ever miss it. Honestly, it's a surprise I'm not an alcoholic on top of all my other issues with such easy access all my life.

Climbing out, I notice one of the other girls, Luci I think her name is, sitting behind the wheel of her car adjusting the cardigan around her shoulders. First impressions are everything. It's something that's been drilled inside my head for as long as I can remember, and my first impression of her says she's hiding something huge. Not like it's any of our business to pry, but that doesn't mean my curiosity isn't getting the best of me anyway.

She notices me practically staring and smiles with a short wave before stepping out of the car. Without a single word, we stroll up to the porch together where she raps her knuckles against the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her glance down quickly at the items in my hands before coming back up to rest on the young girl that opens the door in front of us.

Luci allows me to walk in first, I'm sure because I've got my hands full. One thing about being a Clemonte is that you get used to having everyone's attention on you as soon as you walk into a room. Not sure if it's nerves from being so on edge the past two weeks or what, but for the first time in a long time, I actually feel nervous. Moreso than wondering if I overstepped by bringing something so flashy when Jolene obviously took the time to make all kinds of things for the meeting. I blame that unease for my apology.

"I wasn't sure what to bring. But this has always served me well. Hope everyone likes wine and cheese." Then I want to slap myself on the forehead. Glancing at the dark-haired girl propped against the counter who I believe is named Imma or something, I tell her, "Sorry you can't drink wine, but you can probably have the cheese, right? I've never been around pregnant people before so don't hold me to that."

She opens her mouth to speak but Jolene beats her to it, thanking me for being so kind. Luci lets loose a small sigh that I wouldn't have heard if I wasn't still standing so close to her.

"My apologies for coming empty handed," she says. "It's been a long time since I've done anything like this. I'll have something ready for our next meeting."

Her entire demeanor screams of someone who doesn't see the light of day very often, let alone out doing things like joining social clubs. My eyes narrow slightly as I take in the bruise across the bottom of her neck and the way her gaze drops to the floor as she apologizes. I had a friend who acted like that once, and when the truth had come out about her it wasn't a pretty picture. Hadn't had a pretty ending either. A sick feeling gnaws at the pit of my empty stomach.

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