Page 22 of Checking from Behind

I wanted to argue with him and say I was going to go home and rest, but I wasn't keen on returning to an empty house to sit alone with an ice pack and my thoughts. Lately, all I could think about was the kiss I'd shared with Lillah, the kiss that had cost me that game in Philly, and adding injury boredom to the mix sounded like a recipe for a spiral I couldn't afford.

Once everyone had showered and changed, we headed over to a place Jeremy liked. An upscale lounge with dim lighting, leather seating, and a ridiculously long cocktail menu.

I ordered a whiskey. Ashford grabbed a gin and tonic, Jeremy ordered something called "smoke and mirrors" which involved mezcal and a charred orange peel. We spread out in a corner booth at the end of the bar, and I was two sips into the whiskey, leaning against the bar when I saw her.

Lillah was across the room, sitting at a small table near the window, and she wasn't alone.

A man sat across from her. He was in his mid-thirties, clean-shaven with a fresh haircut, dressed in a navy blazer and jeans. He was leaning toward her, talking away.

She sat there holding a glass of wine, her head tilted slightly to the left as if she were listening. She was wearing a dark green fitted dress with thin straps that left her shoulders bare and showed the line of her collarbone and the hollow of her throat. Her hair was down, falling in dark waves. As I stood there watching her, I couldn't ignore how stunning she looked.

She was here on a date with someone else, and as that thought floated through my mind, jealousy hit me like a check into the boards. I had no right to feel that, and I knew it. I barely knew her, and kissing her once while I was drunk didn't mean she was mine. She wasn't anything to me except a neighbor who didn't like me. But watching this guy lean toward her like he had a right to be in her space made my jaw tighten until my teeth hurt.

"Earth to Marshall…" I heard someone yell.

I tore my eyes away from the scene across the room and looked at the guys.

"Who the hell are you staring at?" Jeremy questioned.

"Nobody."

"Bullshit, nobody. Ashford was talking to you and you were completely gone."

"Sorry, what was it you were saying?" I asked Ashford.

The moment he started talking again, my gaze went back to Lillah.

"Wait, a minute. Isn't that your neighbor? The dog shit girl?" Jeremy questioned.

"Don't call her that."

Jeremy watched me as he took a drink.

"Interesting," he muttered.

"There is nothing interesting. She lives next door to me. She is here. Coincidence." I said, drinking down the last of my whiskey.

"Looks like she is on a date." He said, watching her, then turning his attention to me.

"Yes, I can see that."

"And you look like you want to throw your glass at that guy's head."

"No, I don't."

No matter how many times I told myself that, I wanted to do exactly what Jeremy said. Only I wanted to be the one to catch it so I could throw it again.

"Yes, you do. Look at yourself. You look like you're in the middle of third period when someone gets away with a slash. Your jaw is all tight. So, what are you going to do about it?" He questioned, downing the rest of his drink and signaling the bartender for another one along with a whiskey.

I set my glass down on the bar with more force than I'd intended.

"I'm going over there." I said.

"Marshall…" Jeremy put his hand on my arm. "That is probably a bad idea. You're injured, and she is on a date. I was razzing you; the smart move is to stay here and drink your feelings like a normal person." He said, picking up the glass of whiskey that had arrived and holding it in front of my face.

I ignored him, pushing his hand away. I crossed the bar with purpose, leaving Jeremy and my drink behind. The sight of Lillah Winters sitting across from a man who looked like he organized his spice rack alphabetically pulled me forward.

She glanced up before I got to their table, her eyes going wide, first with surprise and then narrowing. Her hand tightened on her wineglass.