An Unexpected Love Story (Love Story Book Two) (3 page)

“You still with me, Brooke?” Paul asked, waving his hand in front of my face.

I smiled, trying to put such unhappy thoughts out of my head. “I’m even more tired than I thought,” I told him. “Guess I really shouldn't come out.”

“Oh, come on, Brooke,” he said, his voice taking on a pleading quality. “We never have any fun without you. And you know Joel will be all kinds of moody tonight, now that he’s free from Justine’s clutches. Come on, say you'll come.”

“You really are a whiney little girl, aren't you?”

“You'll have a good time, I promise,” he said, changing tactic. “You haven't been out in ages. And you know you’ll be super busy this weekend, with the convention. You could use a bit of relaxation first.”

“Fine,” I said, laughing in spite of myself. Paul’s persistence had gotten me into lots of trouble over the years. “I’ll be there.”

Paul gave me his best wicked grin. “Good. We’ll have fun, promise. You won’t regret it.”

Chapter Three

As it turned out, I did regret it. Not that it was Paul’s fault. I could say it was because of Justine, but I’m old enough to admit when I have no one to blame but myself.

The night started out typically enough. Hardy’s bar was one of the few places in town that actually stayed open later than eleven p.m., so it was typically the busiest place for miles—which wasn’t really saying much. But they served good food and even better beer and had satellite TV playing every sporting event imaginable. Everyone always made fun of Hardy’s, a typical dive bar in a typical podunk town, but we all secretly loved it. It was laid back and comfortable and a great place to chill out with friends.

As was often the case, I was one of the few girls in our group. In addition to Joel, Paul, Trevor, and Tom, we were also joined by a few guys who worked with Trevor out at the car dealership. They were okay guys, but had a tendency to stare at me in a way that made me uncomfortable, until I finally glared at them both so hard they got the point. Tom’s girlfriend was there, too. A nice, pretty girl named Carrie. Unlike most of the group, she had grown up in Presque Isle, twenty or so miles away, so I didn’t immediately know her. She seemed nice enough, but pretty much concerned herself only with Tom, sitting close to him throughout the night and whispering in his ear as she giggled.

For the most part, I liked hanging out with Paul’s friends and had a good time when I was with them. They teased me a bit, but I actually found it comforting. It made me feel like I was one of the gang, instead of the slutty girl that all the other girls should be intimidated by.

The evening progressed as they normally did. There was a hockey game on, and we all got a little trashed watching the Red Wings beat up on the Maple Leafs. By the third period, I’d had enough to drink to warrant my standing up to scream at the screen along with the boys.

“That was the worst call I’ve ever seen!” I yelled, shaking my beer at the official on the screen.

“Easy there, Murray,” Paul said, laughing a little as he pulled me back down to my seat. “We’re up 5-1, there’s no need to spill your beer.”

“True,” I said, settling myself onto my chair. “I love the beer.”

Paul was still laughing. “You know,” he said, suddenly leaning closer to me. “I really love you like this. All relaxed and having fun. You should let go more often.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I so have time for that. I have a business to run, you know.”

Paul shook his head. “No one ever really understood why you came back,” he said. “You always hated that place. Everyone figured you’d be working at some major corporation in New York or Chicago by now.”

I took another sip of my beer. “That was the plan,” I sighed.

“So why’d you do it then?” he asked. “Why’d you come back?”

I was already feeling my buzz start to slip a little at the tone the conversation had taken. I was so not in the mood to go there tonight.

“I couldn’t resist the idea of coming back to be near you,” I said instead, winking at him. Now it was Paul’s turn to snort.

“Yeah, right. I know how the balance of this relationship goes, Murray. I’ve been chasing after you since we were what, fifteen? Pining after you. Desperate for whatever little crumb you’d be willing to give me.”

“Like you’ve ever pined after anyone.”

“I did, when you left,” he said, his eyes suddenly growing serious. “I knew I missed my chance with you. I was afraid you’d be a big-city girl in no time, never to return to me in our little town.”

I found myself staring at his eyes and realized I was willing myself to feel something more about the intensity I saw there. It was no use. I liked Paul a lot, I always had. I liked hanging out with him and having fun and even flirting with him. But there was just nothing else there.

“If I recall,” I said, keeping my voice light and playful, trying to rouse him back to his former low-key mood, “you were seeing three different girls at the time I left for school.”

Paul gave me a little smirk. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep the ladies away from all of this.” He waved his hands down over himself as he raised an eyebrow at me. “It’d be cruel to deny them.” His face turned serious again as he looked down at his beer. “But I would’ve given it all up for the chance to say Brooke Murray was my girl.”

“Oh, Paul,” I said, wrapping my arm around him. “Don’t get morose. You promised me a good time tonight, remember?”

“Yeah,” he said, downing his beer and standing up. “Come on, Murray. The jukebox is free and you should be dancing.”

Though Emily and I had long decried the limited options of the jukebox at Hardy’s, I joined Paul on the little dance floor all the same. After four bottles of Bud Light, I figured it was the kind of night where classic rock was appropriate. Tom and Carrie soon joined us, seeming to do their best to procreate right there on the dance floor. Paul caught my gaze and rolled his eyes, making me laugh and feel happier than ever that I was hanging out with him.

After about half an hour, I was feeling sweaty and tired, in that good way that always seems to accompany dancing. I told Paul I needed a break, and he joined me back at our table, now nearly empty save for Joel, who seemed immeasurably depressed at the loss of Justine.

“Cheer up,” I told him, plopping down in the seat next to him. “Come on, I’ll buy you a beer.”

“I miss her, Brooke,” he said, his voice sad and pretty slurred. I realized that he was hammered. How much had he been drinking tonight? I felt bad for not noticing. I had known Joel for ages, and though I hadn’t been able to associate with him much since Justine had come onto the scene, he was an old friend. I should have tried harder to cheer him up earlier in the night.

“Joel, you’re gonna be fine,” I said bracingly. “Trust me. You can do so much better.”

“I don’t want better,” he moaned. “I just want Justine.”

“Why?” I asked, unable to help myself. How could such a witch inspire such sadness by her absence? It defied logic. “I mean, what was so great about her?”

“She had such nice hair,” he sniffed. “It always smelled good. And pretty skin, too. You know how her skin was always so pretty?”

“If by pretty you mean covered under an inch of makeup,” I muttered. Joel didn’t seem to hear me. “Was she nice to you?”

“Well,” he said, screwing up his face as if he was struggling to remember. “Sometimes she was.”

I rolled my eyes, not all surprised.

“Come on, Joel,” Paul said. “She was mean and demanding all the time. She made you freaking miserable, man.”

“I know,” Joel agreed, nodding his head sadly. “But she was always there.”

“You’re just lonely,” I told him, patting his back. “You’ll find someone else. You’re a great catch.”

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing,
bitch
?”

I looked up, my stomach dropping at the sound of the voice. Sure enough, Justine was standing just behind me, her arms crossed, an ugly glare on her face.

“Good to see you, Justine,” I said, my voice dripping with sweet sarcasm. “You’re looking nice tonight.” If you considered three inches of stonewashed denim skirt nice. Which, apparently, she did.

“Shut up,” she snapped. “What do you think you’re doing with him?”

“I’m not with him,” I snapped right back. “But it wouldn’t be any of your business if I was.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” she hissed. “You better get the fuck up from that table now, bitch.”

“Sorry, Justine,” I said. “I thought you said boyfriend, but I must have been mistaken, seeing as how he dumped you yesterday. I guess I couldn’t understand you, since I don’t speak trash.”

As I turned back to the table, I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. A huge part of me wanted to get up and punch her in the face. The better part of me refused to sink to her level. Just as I lifted my beer to my lips, eager for a pause to get myself under better control, I felt someone shove me, hard, from behind. As my beer sloshed down my T-shirt, I sighed.
Sorry, better self
, I thought.
You’re about to get outvoted
.

I stood up and turned to Justine, happy to see her shrink back a little. I had quite a few inches on her. “Did you just touch me?” I said, my voice low.

“Okay, girls,” Paul said, coming to stand between us. “Let’s not get kicked out the bar tonight, okay? Justine, just go on home.”

“But she’s with him,” she snarled, pointing down at Joel. For the first time since she had arrived, I looked at him. He was staring at her with a confused expression, looking like he might throw up.

“No, she’s not,” Paul said. “She’s with me. And we are here trying to cheer up your ex-boyfriend, since he’s feeling so down about recent events. So just leave, okay?”

“What’s going on?”

I looked behind Justine and groaned. Her best friend, Nikky, was standing there, looking for all the world like she hoped she’d be able to witness a fight tonight. She was such a drama queen.

“This skank is hitting on Joel,” Justine said, pointing a long, manicured finger in my face. “I saw her!”

Nikky’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Of course not,” Paul said. “Just get out of here, okay? We don’t want any trouble.”

“You think you can just have whatever you want, don’t you Murray?” Justine’s face was twisted up, making her look even worse than she usually did. “You’ve always been that way. What is it about being a slut that makes you think you’re entitled to every guy in town?”

“Okay, I’ve had about enough of your crap—” I started, goaded now beyond control. But Paul took my arm, pulling me behind him a little bit.

“She’s not worth it,” he said to me, his voice soft. “You have too much to do this weekend without getting in a bar fight.” He turned back to Nikky. “Nik, can you just get her out of here, please?”

It worked like a charm. Nikky had always had a crush on Paul, and when he smiled at her, like he was doing now, she was liable to do just about anything he asked.

“Sure,” she said, giving him her best flirty smile in return. I rolled my eyes behind Paul’s back. But Nikky started tugging on Justine’s arm, pulling her away from the table. “Come on, Justine,” she murmured. “Let’s just go.”

“This isn’t over,” Justine hissed, pointing at me again. “I am so going to kick your ass, Murray.”

“Oh dear,” I said, my voice flat. “I am so worried. How on earth will I get by, what with all the worry?”

“Shut up,” she said, shaking free of Nikky’s arm to take a step closer. “You think you’re so smart ’cause you went to some bull shit school. But I know what you really are. Everyone in town does. You’re no better than a stupid whore. And you’re going to end up alone and ugly, just like a whore.”

“Okay,” I said, brightly, doing my best to affect her normal, ditzy voice. “See you later then, sweetie. Call me!”

“Bitch,” she muttered once more, before turning to follow Nikky out of the bar.

I took a deep breath, the rush of adrenaline slowly dissipating, leaving me feeling suddenly exhausted. I looked around and realized most of the bar was staring at me. Great. If there was one thing I needed right now, it was more attention.

“Sit down,” Paul said, all but pushing me into my seat. “I’ll get you another drink.”

I sat down, feeling tired. Tired and sad, though I wasn’t sure why. Justine meant nothing to me, and her words should mean even less. So why did I feel like I could put my head down on the table and burst into tears?

Suddenly, Joel grasped my arm. “Brooke, I think I need to go home,” he said, his voice low. “I’m pretty sure I just passed out. I had the strangest dream that Justine was here.”

I sighed, patting him on the shoulder. “It was more like a nightmare, buddy.”

Paul returned with my drink, and I raised an eyebrow. I had assumed he was going to get me another beer, but he instead offered me a shot glass of something amber. He gave me a sheepish look. “I figured you could do with something stronger.”

I downed the glass of whiskey in one go, the burn making me feel marginally better. “Thanks.”

Next to me, Joel put his head down on the table. He was snoring almost immediately. Paul sat on my other side and started rubbing my back with one hand. The kindness made me feel even worse, somehow.