Page 84 of That Moment
I shoot her a flat look, but it only makes her smirk wider.
Stretching back in her chair, she groans. “God, I’m still dead from girls’ night. My feet hate me. But it was worth it. You should’ve seen Amelia, nearly drowned the table in merlot. Brooklyn wouldn’t shut up about how we needed the Backstreet Boys on the playlist.”
I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Sounds like a circus.”
“It was perfect.” Dolly’s eyes glint playfully. Then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, “We all behaved, of course. Well, everyone except Adrienne.”
My hand freezes on the paper. “Yeah?” I try to sound cool, but I can hear the edge in my voice.
“Don’t get excited.” She waves her spoon around. “It wasn’t scandalous or anything. Just… she actually let some guy pull her onto the dance floor. About damn time if you ask me.” Dolly grins at the memory. “Cute guy, too. Slipped his number right into her hand.”
Something sharp lodges under my ribs. I keep my tone even, but it comes out rougher than I mean. “She took it?”
“Relax, Scotty.” Dolly laughs, turning back to her files. “She didn’t marry the guy. Just danced. But still. Single girl, living her life. Good for her, am I right?”
I force a nod, but it feels like my throat’s closing.
Dolly doesn’t notice. She slides her rings back on after rubbing lotion into her hands, voice light. “I hope that’s not weird for you. I know you two flirt like crazy, but it’s not like you’re actually gonna go for her. Everyone knows you just love to play the game.”
I swallow hard, pulling the smirk back onto my face like armor. “Yeah. Don’t worry. I’m not confused about what Adrienne and I are.”
Her gaze flickers, curious, but I’m already tapping the call sheet against the desk, pivoting for the door before she can pinme with more questions. The second it shuts behind me, my chest tightens.
She took his fucking number?
The words gnaw at me, and suddenly my thoughts are spiraling, wondering if she’s called him, if she’s going to call him. If shewantsto call him. I stride back into the shop, jaw clenched, rag in my fist. The crew’s laughter echoes somewhere in the bay, but I barely hear it.
That good mood? Gone. All I can taste now is bitterness.
And the sick, sinking truth that maybe Dolly’s right. Maybe Adrienne’s just playing with me… and I was dumb enough to believe it meant something. Maybe that’s why she kept bringing up the other women, told me not to mess with her head… because she feels guilty.
Back in the bay, I bury myself in the Chevy, wrench biting into my palm harder than necessary. Doesn’t matter. Pain’s better than thinking. But Dolly’s words won’t shake loose.
She let him dance with her. She took his number.
Every time I crank down on a bolt, I see it. Some faceless asshole with his hands at her waist, her hair falling back as she laughs up at him. That smile that used to be mine for a split second last night… wasted on a stranger.
I force a breath, try to smother the burn in my chest. I argue with myself, going back and forth, trying to make sense of it all.
She’s single. She can do what she wants. We never promised each other a damn thing. Hell, I told her once I shouldn’t even want this. Shouldn’t want her.
But that doesn’t stop the acid taste from crawling up my throat.
Cody passes by, joking about needing my torque numbers on the Chevy, and I snap sharper than I mean to. He throws his hands up, mutters “touchy” under his breath, and moves on.
I press my forearms to the edge of the hood, head hanging, rag twisting tight in my hands. Dolly’s voice won’t quit replaying.
Everyone knows you just love to play the game.
That stings worse than the thought of Adrienne with another man because she’s right. I made my bed a long time ago with every single one-night stand and broken heart I left in this town. It’s just another reminder that’s what people think of me… just another player, a flirt, good for a fuck and nothing more. And maybe that’s all she sees, too.
I slam the hood shut harder than I need to, the clang echoing through the shop. A couple of heads turn, but I ignore them.
You’re an idiot, Scotty. You told her you weren’t playing games. You fucking meant it. And she’s out there collecting phone numbers like it’s nothing.
I shove my hands into my back pockets and stare down at the concrete floor. The knot in my chest is part anger, part shame. Angry at her for making me believe. Angry at myself for letting her close enough to gut me with one stupid story.
For the first time since last night, I don’t feel lucky. I feel like the fool I always swore I wouldn’t be.
