The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(98)

“I’d say thank you,” I blush, but then point my finger at him. “But you’re still buying my dinner.”

“You’re on,” he says. “Salads are cheap!”

“Yeah, well tonight, I’m ordering lobster,” I say. “I don’t even know if they serve lobster at Sally’s, but whatever’s expensive, I’m getting it.” Ty nods and winks at me, but he doesn’t say no to any of my requests. I don’t want to stab him anymore.

We can tell just by walking up to the parking lot that Sally’s is packed. It’s a fish fry. Fish fries in Oklahoma seem weird to me. I’m not sure where they get the fish from, but the smell is pretty much all-consuming. And it only vaguely smells like fish. My luck, of course, the fish-fry all-you-can-eat ticket is the most expensive thing on the menu, so it’s what Ty orders for me before I can even ask. I add a glass of Pinot Gris onto my order just to be a bitch, but Ty high-fives me for being a good sport, so my comeback feels thwarted before it even has a chance at wings. And I’m pretty sure the Pinot was trucked in and came out of a box.

“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day my sister ate fried fish,” Cass says, slinging her arm around me and pulling me over to one of the outdoor benches set up for tonight’s big crowd. I feel like I should be in overalls. I would rock overalls.

“Oh, I’m not eating any of it. I’m going to let it sit in front of me to piss him off,” I smirk.

“He’ll just start picking off your plate; trust me,” Cass says.

I laugh, and Cass nudges me when we get into our seat.

“You like him,” she says. I know she’s talking about Ty, but the universe is cruel and the second she makes her joke, Houston walks out of one of the side doors of the restaurant, carrying a tray of food—enough food for two.

My initial hope is that he’s here with Leah. But then the fact that we’re at a bar smacks me in the chest, and my heart starts to squeeze. Too much time has passed since Cass spoke, which only makes her follow my gaze to see what’s distracting me. What’s pulling me is the dark-haired guy with perfect arms across the room. “Ohhhhhh,” she starts to tease. She stops as soon as she looks back at me and sees my eyes are down in my lap, my lips tight.

“I was talking about Ty,” she says, coughing.

“I know,” I smile, raising one side of my mouth. I pick up my plastic cup of wine and chuckle at the absurdity of it, then take a slow sip, begging myself to look in any direction but the one he’s moving in.

But I’m weak.

And Houston stops three tables away from me, a very tall, very pretty brunette sitting across from him. She’s in scrubs, which means she probably has a job, which means she also probably has her shit together. I hate that a little…a lot.

“I loves me a fish fry!” Ty says, pushing up to our table, Nate and Rowe carrying their own trays behind him.

He’s loud and recognizable, which makes Houston look in our direction. Our eyes meet almost instantly, and for a second, it’s just as it is every time we see each other through a crowd, through the windows of the library, across a street—we hold up a hand and acknowledge the other one exists, and then we continue being chicken shits and going about our pathetic lonely days.

I’m almost fine with that being how things go, until the laugh…and the hair-flip—then the girl with him says something she finds so unbelievably hilarious that she is compelled to grasp his arm with her hand.

I’m out of my seat before my brain has time to catch up to what I’m doing. I’m a fast thinker, though. At least when it comes to words coming out of my mouth. Somehow, I’ll say just the right thing.

“Pa…Paige,” he stutters. Great. He’s stuttering. This is so cliché.

“Hey, Houston. So, this your hot date?” That’s seriously what comes out of my ever-loving mouth. I bluff my way through, and pretend I’m chewing gum, when really I’m only gnawing at the inside of my cheek. I realize too late that I’ve started this act, so I need to keep it up. I’m standing here, forcing my lips into a smile, knowing I’ve lost most of my lip-gloss on my plastic wine cup, and I’m literally eating myself from the inside.

There’s a moment where his mouth actually forms an oh, and I can’t quite tell if it’s an “oh f*ck!” or an “oh, no.” I’m not sure it matters. Either way, I don’t give him much time.

“Hi, I’m Paige,” I say, sliding onto the other end of the bench next to his…date.

“Hi, Paige. I’m Tracey. It’s nice to meet you,” she says. Her shake is firm. Shit, she’s nice. And her teeth are really white. She has her hair pinned in the front in these really cute twists. I should try that with my hair. I hate that I’m noticing things about her hair—things I want to emulate. She can’t be around long enough for that to happen…for her and I to be friends. She needs to go.

“So, what brings you two out for Fish-Fry Friday?” I ask. I’m not even really sure if that’s what this is called. It is now.

“Oh, well…we sort of met…” she’s looking to Houston for confirmation, or maybe out of courtesy. I can tell she doesn’t want to rat him out. Houston is wincing, his eyes closed tightly, and eventually he pops one open, right when she finishes her sentence. “Online?”