Fueled (Driven, #2)(107)

Sad by Maroon 5 - x C

I know the song. A man talking about the two paths of a relationship. A man admitting that he chose the wrong one to take. That he never said the words she needed to hear. That he realizes it now that she’s gone.

I take a small victory in knowing he’s affected by the turn of events, but it doesn’t feel good. Nothing about this situation feels good.

I hate that I want him to hurt as much as I do. I hate myself for wanting him even when he hurt me. And more than anything, I hate that he made me feel again because right now I just wish I could go back to being numb.

I pull myself from my thoughts and wonder for the hundredth time if Colton really misses me or if he’s once again trying to repair that fragile ego of his from being rejected.

Regardless, he’s a big boy and big boys have to take responsibility for their screwed up actions. He says nothing happened but it’s hard to believe when I saw them wearing the same pieces of a matching outfit.

Consequences. I’m sure that’s a word he’s never had to own up to before. I don’t plan on responding, but I do just for measure.

I Knew You Were Trouble – Taylor Swift.





“So you’re still not going to talk to him?”

“Nope.” I put the Xbox game back on the shelf, trying to remember if Shane has it already.

“Nope? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“Yup.” I furrow my brow in indecision as I look around the various possible presents at Target.

“Are you going to say more than one word for an answer?”

“Hmm.” I stall for a moment. “What do you get a sixteen year old boy for his birthday?”

“Beats me. I realize avoidance is really your thing right now, but you’re an idiot if you think that you’re going to be able to steer clear of him at the race.”

“I’ve done a pretty good job so far and after yesterday, I’ve got enough of a reason to keep avoiding him,” I shrug, not really wanting to have this conversation with Haddie. I just want to get Shane’s birthday present, and then go home and shower before my shift and Shane’s birthday party.

I hear Haddie’s loud sigh of frustration but ignore it. “Ry, you’ve got to talk to him. You’re miserable. You said yourself he said nothing happened.”

I snort in jest. “’He’ being the operative word Haddie.” I say, turning to her, a chill in my voice as a result of her constant meddling in regards to how I’m handling the relationship that I no longer have with Colton. “Put yourself in my shoes. Let’s say that you went to talk to the guy you’re seeing and some long-legged bimbo, the one who has made it crystal clear to you in previous conversations that she wants your man, opens his door. In the morning. The only thing she is wearing is his T-shirt. Definitely no bra. And your boyfriend comes to answer the door, buttoning up his jeans, happy trail showing and then some to let you know that he was naked just prior to that moment. You realize that Long-Legged-Bimbo is most likely wearing the T-shirt that is missing from your boyfriend’s bare chest. You ask said boyfriend what the hell is going on, and you can see his mind trying to figure out how to explain what you’ve just seen.” I shove another game back on the shelf. “As he’s denying nothing happened, a condom wrapper falls from his pocket. He still claims nothing happened. I believe the actual words he used were absolutely nothing happened, but push him a little—get him flustered—and oops, out slips that it was just a kiss. Only a kiss. I guarantee if I push him a little harder, more truths will spill out. Nothing happened my ass!”

“There could be a perfectly good reason…” she throws in there but stops when I glare at her.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I just hate seeing you like this.” She angles her head at me and twists her lips. “Look, I understand where you’re coming from, Ry, I do. I really do, but I wouldn’t be a good friend if I just sat back and watched you make a mistake. I think you’re so upset—and rightfully so—at what happened that you’re not seeing the forest through the trees right now. You need to talk to him and hear him out. I mean the guy is still chasing after you relentlessly.”

I raise my eyebrows in agitation, my feathers automatically ruffled. “Guilt will do that to you,” I mutter as I move on looking at other possible gift options.

“It will,” she agrees, “but so will being falsely accused of something.” I peer up from the case of iPods and accessories, meeting her eyes. She reaches out and places a hand on my upper arm. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m watching his non-stop attempts to get your attention. Shit, he’s been to our house three times in the last week trying to get you to listen to him. I’m not going to lie to him anymore for you and tell him you’re not home. I know you’re scared to let him back in again, but I think that fear might be healthy. The man’s got it bad for you. Just like you do him. Please, keep that in mind.”

I stare at her for a moment and then turn back to the case, needing a minute to digest what the one person that knows me better than anyone else has just said. “I’ll think about it,” is all I can manage. “Am I missing something here? Why are you pushing this so hard when you are the queen of moving on to the next guy when there is the smallest transgression let alone the guy screwing someone else? I just don’t get it.”