His eyes light up. He motions to his date that he’ll be a minute before pushing his chair in and making his way toward me.
My nerves get to me, and I look around. This isn’t exactly the perfect place for a reunion—standing in the middle of waitress traffic where both of our dates will be studying our interactions closely. I turn on my heel and hurry to the lobby at the front of the restaurant, not surprised when he follows.
If anything, he’s followed me to torment me.
Let’s see how much has changed in four years.
When he reaches the lobby, he leans up against the wall and looks me up and down. Suddenly, I feel way too sexy in this dress.
“Well, well, Britain McCulley.”
I cross my arms awkwardly. “Hi… Jaime.”
A whole rush of emotions come swimming back to me. Mostly negative ones, but there are a few gems. Jaime is my older brother Cameron’s best friend. My brother was enough of a playboy himself, and, well… Jaime was a hundred times worse. They’ve been that way since they went through puberty together, an event I witnessed almost every single moment of. I’ve pretty much known Jaime since I exited the womb.
But being a playboy isn’t what puts a bad taste in my mouth when I think about Jaime. It’s the fact that, over the course of my entire life, he’s been there to tease me relentlessly about every aspect of my personality, my behavior, and my body. He was that asshole.
And I never understood why. He was popular and deviant and blew through girls like packs of gum, yet he took extra care to make my life a living hell whenever he could.
Like the time he found my tampons and strung them like Christmas lights outside my bedroom window when I was thirteen.
Or the time he was supposed to lead me blindfolded to my surprise birthday party on my family’s patio and pushed me into the pool.
Or that one summer when he intimidated my high school boyfriend so badly that he broke up with me the next day.
And here’s the kicker. It would be one thing if he grew up to be old and fat and balding at twenty-six, and I looked as hot as Evan, or Delilah. I generally don’t give half a damn about appearances, except for this moment, when I see Jaime-fucking-Rivera for the first time in four years and he looks like a god.
I knew he was attractive, I just didn’t know how attractive. Cameron told me he’d been working with him in an accounting internship at my parents’ software company when he was getting his bachelor’s at Stan State, and his modelling career took off after he graduated.
He was cute back in high school, but still had too much of a meat head appeal for me. Now, as he walks closer, reaching out his hand, he’s all swag and no sneer. He’s ballsy enough to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and I’m brought back to all of my buried, hidden fantasies of him.
Yes, even though he was a total dick to me, he was hot and gave me attention. I often toyed with the idea of him deflowering me when I was a teenager.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he says.
I shy away from his touch. “I see your confidence hasn’t dwindled either.”
He laughs and sighs. His body is too close. “When I found out you were shooting for an erotic magazine, I couldn’t believe it. I figured that you must have gone batshit insane after high school, cut your hair off, started smoking, got a couple of naughty piercings…”
I chuckle nervously. “Surprise.”
“I mean, little Britain McCulley? My chaste, blonde, inherited sister?”
The way he calls me his sister makes me internally cringe. He reaches out again like he’s going to touch my face, and I grab his forefinger, resisting the urge to break it in my fist.
I won’t be patronized.
I used to fall for that shit as a teenager. I can’t count how many times this boy left me in tears. But I have a hell of a lot more stamina now.
“Awh, you thought I was chaste. That’s cute.”
I release my grip and he slides his hands into his pockets.
“It’s a coincidence seeing you here.”
“Why’s that?”
“I thought Cameron would have told you.”
I shrug. “I don’t really talk to him much.”
“Aren’t you wondering why I’m in town?”
“No?”
“Britain,” he elongates my name to sound all whiny. “I’m auditioning for your magazine.”
My heart stops. Oh hell no.
“You’re what?”
I want to slap the smile right off Jaime’s face. “My agent received the audition email a few days ago and sent me over. Said the rag was going national and looked promising. I read up on the credentials, and when I saw your name listed as founder, let me tell you…”
I’ve tuned him out. This can’t be happening to me. Sure, I’ve grown a hell of a lot more confident since high school, but there is no way that I can handle Jaime Rivera during the chaos of prepping for an issue of EPE.
No escapes my mouth.
He stops mid-sentence. “Excuse me?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, don’t even bother auditioning.”
He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. I can only see his forearms below his rolled-up sleeves, and even they are threaded with muscle.
“I’ve already had my helping of you, Jaime, and to be honest, I don’t think your pride will allow you to be a model for EPE.” I point to my chest. “I run the shots for the whole magazine. You spent your entire youth tormenting me, and I don’t think you’ll be able to take orders from me efficiently and seriously. And if you do show up to the shoot, I’ll make sure to voice my concerns to my overseers.” In the same breath, I add, “It was nice to see you,” and turn on my heel.
“You’re wrong, Brit,” he calls, but I don’t stop for him.
I won’t ever stop for him again.
I return to my table only to realize that Hayden is no longer there—just his drained wine glass. I sit down and wait, thinking that maybe he went to the bathroom, but the more time that passes, the more I come to terms with the fact that my date has ditched me.
“Cocksucker,” I mutter under my breath, and flag down the waitress.
Hayden not only didn’t order, but also didn’t pay for our wine. I ask the waitress to bag it and pay her, tipping her liberally for pretty much wasting her time, and then I hail a cab.
I should be livid. Maybe I should shed a few tears for the sake of being a girl ditched at a fine Italian restaurant. But the fact is, I can’t even get my mind to wander in the direction of Hayden and is asshatery.
My thoughts and rage are fixed firmly on Jaime.
Chapter Three
Evan
It’s embarrassing how fast things with me and Dallas spiraled out of control. I feel like a fool caught in the heat of lust. It would be one thing if he had come back to the house and begged to sort things out like he had done when he broke up with Trish and sat on my doorstep all night.
I guess I don’t know him like I thought I did. Maybe that behavior from Dallas was a fluke, because he was as tangled in lust as I was.
The next time I see him is when I meet him at the airport—before he leaves the country for seven months.
My heart pounds in my chest. I’m nervous only because of how confused I am—my own pride has kept me from calling him, and I have no idea what’s going through his head. Hell, I hardly know what’s going through my own.
I spot him by the coffee shop right before security. The only text I’ve sent him since he left was one telling him I’d be here today, to which he responded with a simple ‘ok’. Maybe he’s come to realize the same thing that I have.