Page 9 of The Downside of Love
Yup, I know that familiar voice.
Turning on my bar stool, losing my balance and falling into Shane, I laugh, trying to focus on the two figures in front of me; one blonde and one brunette.
Brunette?
I don’t remember ordering up a brunette.
I bring my attention to the blonde silhouette and plaster on a very drunk smile while opening up my arms.
“Ryyyyyan,” I slur, swaying back and forth and lunging forward, into her arms.
With an ooompf, she catches me, my chest pressing into hers, my cheek to hers.
I hadn’t spoken to her since a few days after we went bowling during Thanksgiving break, but then I ran into her at the grocery store last week. She was headed to a party and invited me to tag along. With nothing better to do, I joined her. We spent the night drinking and joking around while playing cards. Totally innocent.
Exactly what I needed at the time.
And hopefully, now it’ll be the same.
But hell, I didn’t expect her to bring a friend.
“Who’s your friend?” I ask, sinking into her embrace.
Swatting me away, she says, “You know Rory, you idiot.”
Rory?
Standing tall, eyes blinking rapidly, I try to focus on the individual standing a few feet away.
Brown hair.
Green eyes.
Heart-shaped lips.
Fuck . . . how could I not recognizeher? Maybe because I’ve downed five glasses of scotch and can’t tell my shoe from my ass at this point.
When was the last time I saw her? At the hangar, when she jumped for the first time? That fucking day, the joy she exuded, the concern she had for me . . . it about ripped me apart. I couldn’t reach over and take her as mine, kiss that worry off her face, the worry she had for me.Because she wasn’t fucking mine.
Months later, she still has the same effect on me. Hell, she still haunts me every damn day.
How could she not? How could I not dream of those eyes? I’ve been mesmerized by them since the very first night I met her.
I’ve worked so damn hard over the last year trying to get her out of my head, trying to fuck my way through Colorado Springs, making every attempt to forget about her.
And with every sad and pathetic fuck, I felt more and more empty. I had to rely on the little moments I had with her to fill me back up.Fucking pathetic. Can’t fly. Can’t fuck.
Focusing on her, or trying to . . . because everything is so damn blurry, I say, “Rory, the dream crusher. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, or heard about you for that matter. How’syourlife? Still devastating Colby?”
I don’t know why the words fell out of my mouth—besides the obvious liquor. It’s probably because I want to keep her at an arm’s length. It’s what I’ve done from the very beginning.I refused to be cut to the core every time I saw her.
“Stryder,” Ryan says.Oh crap. She sounds mad.
“What?” I lean into Ryan’s grasp, afraid I might topple over if I don’t hold on to something.
She pinches my side and points at Rory. “Apologize. That was really mean.”
Sighing, I turn to Rory, who from what I can see looks horrified, but I can’t be too sure, because I refuse to look her in the eyes. Reaching out, I grip her by the shoulders and lean my forehead against hers where I take a deep breath, her signature scent hitting me straight in the gut, reminding me of just how much this girl still affects me. How much I still so desperately want her.
