Resentment(34)

Eric playfully places his palm against my forehead. “Are you sure you’re not jet lagged? Sick? You’re acting like the guy isn’t sitting right across from you.”

I overhear Dean mutter, “I wish I wasn’t,” but he quickly recovers.

“Dean can speak for himself.” He looks right at me. “I went to college here, and for the second time today, Eric’s little sister, I am not his charity case.”

He and Eric quickly slip back into their football conversation, and Dean uses every free moment possible to glare at me again and again.

As they’re discussing the upcoming playoffs, the waitress sets a new basket of breadsticks on the table. Dean and I both reach for it and end up grabbing the same breadstick.

“You can have it,” he says under his breath, low enough that Eric can’t hear. “You always did like taking things away from people when they needed it most. Didn’t you?” He lets the bread go. “Shouldn’t stop your habit now, should we?”

“Fuck you, Dean,” I say, high enough so that Eric can hear.

“What the hell, Mia?” Eric turns to look at me. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you being rude to a guy you just met?”

“We’ve met before,” Dean says in an ‘I’m-clearly-the-more-mature-one’ voice that drives me insane.

“Oh?” Eric asks, looking back and forth. “So, y’all were cool in high school, after all?”

“No,” we say in unison, and then I clear my throat.

“I wouldn’t say that at all.” I break my breadstick. “He was the quarterback. I was the nerd.”

“Ah! Okay, okay, I get it.” Eric raises his hands in a playful surrender. “So, does everyone at Central have some type of long-running inside joke if you were in different social circles?”

Neither of us answer him.

“We had something similar at Main.” Eric smiles to himself. “I still can’t bring myself to like any of the jocks if I run into them now. We just didn’t get along that well.”

“Exactly,” Dean says, breaking a new breadstick—glaring at me as he continues to break it into even smaller pieces. “We just didn’t get along that well...”





Chapter 12


MIA

There are no words to describe how awkward it is being in a car with Dean after all these years. Eric is driving and Dean is sitting in the passenger seat, while I sit in the back. Ever since we left dinner, the two of them have been chatting as if they’ve known each other their whole lives, and thankfully, neither has asked me to contribute to the conversation. Not that I would know what to say anyway.

I keep my head directed toward the side window and stare at Portland’s skyline as we head back to the condo. Just as I think we’re seconds away from ending this awkward-as-hell day, Eric pulls into a gas station.

“I need to fill up so I won’t have to do this in the morning,” he says, putting the car in park. “Be right back.” He gets out, leaving me trapped with the past.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and prepare to get out, so the two of us won’t have to speak, but Dean turns around to look at me.

With no expression on his face what so ever, he speaks. “He told me your name was ‘Aim’...He mentioned that I might’ve known you in high school, but he wasn’t even sure what school you went to, since he left home when he was so young.” He clenches his jaw. “I swear, if I had known that you were his little sister, if he had ever shown me any pictures, a social media profile, or given me even a slight inkling that Aim was you, I would’ve moved the fuck out long before you got here.” He gets out of the car before I can and slams the door.

I sit there with my heart in my throat and curses ready to fire off on my lips.

Seething, I pull out my phone and send Autumn a text.

MIA: My worst nightmare has been realized. (Oh, and I landed in Portland like eight hours ago...I was knocked out when I first got here. Sorry.)

AUTUMN: What are you talking about? (And gee, thanks for the late notification. I was honestly beginning to think something happened to you.)

MIA: Dean is here...

AUTUMN: Dean? As in Dean Collins? He’s still alive?

MIA: WTH? Yes, he’s still alive. And not only is that unfortunate enough, but get this: He and Eric are friends – and not just friends, but best friends.

AUTUMN: That’s not a nightmare, Mia. So, what? They’re best friends. It won’t affect you, I’m sure. (It could be worse.)

MIA: I wasn’t finished typing. (It is worse. He’s my other roommate...)

AUTUMN: WHAT?! OMG... You’re totally fucked. Sorry.