Page 82 of #Awestruck

I had just raised it to my lips when a man approached us, putting his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Dawson! How have you been?”

“Piz?”

Aaron Piznarski, Evan’s best friend in high school, stood there with his arms open, ready to hug Evan. People like me always tell themselves in high school that the jocks and cheerleaders would get fat and/or bald, but Piz was still in shape and had all of his hair. And that cocky smirk I’d always hated.

Evan shook his hand instead and gave him an appraising look. “Do you remember Ashton Bailey?”

Piz’s eyes flicked over me, and I didn’t see any recognition. “No. Should I?”

“We used to hang out at her house. She’s Aubrey’s little sister?”

That blank stare continued, and he frowned slightly. “I remember being over at Aubrey’s, but not her family.”

It was odd to stand there with the man who was responsible for my teenage trauma. I’d been mocked, humiliated, and ostracized, and he couldn’t even remember who I was.

My pain and I were totally insignificant to him.

He held out his hand to me. “I’m Aaron. Everyone calls me Piz.”

I couldn’t bring myself to shake his hand and instead took a step behind Evan, letting him be a barrier between me and his former best friend. I should have been laying into Piz, forcing him to face what he’d done. Here I’d thought I was totally over all my issues and problems, and instead I was cowering instead of confronting him.

And Evan seemed completely tuned in to how I was feeling. “She knows who you are. And instead of introducing yourself, I think you should probably apologize to her.”

“For what, man?”

“For hurting her. For making fun of her and being cruel. You bullied her and humiliated her when we were seniors. How can you have forgotten that?” he asked. It made me wonder how many other girls Piz had tormented, given that he couldn’t place me.

“I’m sorry?” It sounded more like a question than an actual apology. And it didn’t mean anything because he obviously only said it because Evan had told him to. “What exactly did I do?”

Evan rattled off a quick list of what Piz had done to me, and I saw the recognition the second it finally dawned on his face.

Then his reaction was not what I had expected. I’d thought he might apologize. Tell me he’d grown and matured and regretted how he’d treated me. Instead, he said, “Oh right! You’re Stalker! Look at you. From not to hot in just ten years. Too bad I didn’t lock you down in high school. Although,” he said with a gross, suggestive leer, “you could come home with me, and we could make up for lost time.”

I drew in a sharp breath. It was like Evan was always such a gentleman to me that I’d forgotten men could be this way. Crude and vomit-inducing. Disgust slithered through my intestines. I felt tainted just by standing near him.

“Are you serious?” Evan’s face turned dark. My hand was on his arm, and I felt his muscles tightening, saw his right hand clench into a fist.

He was going to punch Piz. I set my cup of punch down on the table.

Not that Piz deserved saving, but I stepped in between the two men right after Evan shoved Piz. “It doesn’t matter. Let it go,” I told him.

The veins on Evan’s neck strained, as if it was taking everything he had to hold back. I could only imagine how much professional trouble he’d be in if he hit somebody at a high school reunion. He didn’t need to be fined tens of thousands of dollars because of some male-pattern dumbness. I put both of my hands on his shoulders. “Come with me. Let’s go out into the hallway.”

And cool off, because he needed it.

“What is your problem?” Piz asked, apparently not realizing how close he was to a beatdown.

“You’re my problem!” Evan retorted.

I pushed against Evan lightly, but it was literally like trying to move a wall. I tried again to get him to listen. “If you hit this idiot, you are going to ruin Aubrey’s reunion, and then she’ll kill us both, and she knows how to get away with murder. She went to law school.”

The tension in his shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. I took him by the hand, intending to lead him away.

“Yeah, run along. Listen to your stupid girlfriend.” Piz didn’t actually saygirlfriend, although I wished he had instead of his other word choice, because that’s when Evan almost went nuclear.

Evan reached out and again shoved Piz with his free hand. Then some choice and colorful words were exchanged, and it wasn’t until I said, “Evan, please,” that he finally broke things off and went out with me into a quiet hallway.

He started pacing, the fury still evident in every line of his face. “Can you believe that guy? How was I ever friends with him? If he thinks he’s going to insult the woman I love, he’s got another—”

---