Page 28 of French 75
I haven’t been actively avoiding him, but it’s just so hard to be around him right now. It’s like my cold, hardened heart is thawing, dripping with the need for someone to put it back together, straining with the effort to keep beating. It’s a deep sense of bone-crippling longing every time I’m near him. When he gives me little pecks, I break even more.
Ithurts.
It’s not the kind of pain you get from stubbing your toe or getting hit in the balls. This is… It’s consuming. It’s the worst I’ve ever felt, and I can’t imagine ever feeling okay again.
I love him so much it’s killing me.
The back door opens just as Rhys walks out. With a cigarette perched between his lips, he up-nods me and leans against the wall. When he spots the cigarette, his brow furrows. “You’re smoking?”
“Regretting it.” I cough, batting the excess smoke away. “I don’t know how you do it all the time.”
“You get used to it.” He shrugs as he lights his cigarette. “What’s got you smoking?”
I open my mouth to tell him it’s nothing, when Knox appears from the other end of the alley. He’s also smoking and stops short when he sees us. He narrows his eyes at Rhys, both men dead-set on having the longest and stupidest staring contest. I think Knox wins, because he smirks just as Rhys curses under his breath.
“I see we’re all taking a break,” Knox says as he positions himself on the wall across from me. He looks at my cigarette and frowns. “You smoke?”
“Already discussed,” Rhys snaps, nearly crushing his cigarette.
I roll my eyes. I’ve had enough. “You two need to cut that shit out.” When they both open their mouths to protest, I snap my fingers. “No. Knox, you’re married to his best friend. Rhys, yes, Knox slept with your fiancé. Get over it. Both of you are acting like idiots and need to chill.”
Rhys glares at Knox. “I will when he stops being?—”
“A raging dick?” I finish, scoffing when Rhys nods. “He hasn’t been in quite some time, and you know it.” When Knox flips Rhys off, I growl. “And you, stop antagonizing him. You’re not helping either.”
They both stare at each other for a long second, calculating grey eyes meeting brown, until Knox drops his head with a sigh. “Sorry for being a dick.”
Rhys hums, nodding slowly as he hesitantly speaks. “Sorry for being a jerk.”
“Happily ever after,” I mutter. “Finally, we can have peace.”
Knox mumbles something under his breath, but I don’t catch it. We smoke in silence after that, each of us enjoying—or trying to enjoy—our cigarettes. After a minute, Knox is the one to speak. “How’s Skylar doing?”
Now that I’ve become friends with him, my hackles don’t immediately rise at his question. “Good.”
There must be something in my tone, because Rhys tips his head with curiosity. “Huh. Good? What do you mean by that?”
I open my mouth, but shut it just as quickly. Knox is the one who jumps to my defense, pushing off the wall and crowding Rhys. “If he doesn’t want to talk about it, don’t make him.”
“I’m just asking!” Rhys defends as he raises his hands. “It was a simple question.”
“It was a loaded question.”
“I’m concerned.”
“You’re nosey.”
“We made each other come!”
I don’t know if I scream it because I actually wanted to tell them, or if I just wanted them to stop, but it works. They both whip their heads to me, jaws dropped, and I immediately regret saying anything. They share a look between them, some sort of understanding, and Rhys nods. Ever-so-slowly, he turns to me, and I swear he must have been a therapist in another life. “And how does that make you feel?”
I snort. “I don’t know, Rhys. How do you feel when Everest makes you come?”
“Everest is his fiancé,” Knox says. “And they’re both very much aware that they’re in love. What’s your excuse?”
“It was fine.”
Rhys’s eyes widen. “Fine?”
