His Royal Highness(50)

We both look away for a moment. Silent.

Then his throat clears before he asks, “Have you eaten? I’m starving.”

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“You can get the beer. I’ll grab our tacos.”

We make our way to the bar and I’m walking on air, in my own little sliver of paradise, obviously, because I completely forgot about Ryan.

We reach the bar at the exact moment he spins around, presumably to find me again. His eyebrows shoot up, an easy grin lighting up his face.

“Hey, did you get tired of waiting for me?” He holds up one of the two beers he’s just purchased. “I figured you’d want a better drink.” He holds it out to me and then glances over at Derek. “Oh hey, what’s up?” Ryan asks. “Sorry, I would have grabbed you a beer too if I’d known you were coming. The bartender’s swamped. You’ll be here awhile.”

I want to turn down the beer he’s offering me, but how can I? I will not hurt Ryan’s feelings just to make this situation less awkward.

Derek’s looking at me, though…waiting for an explanation, I think.

“Ryan knows some of the huntsman guys from the parade,” I volunteer, hoping Derek will understand what I’m trying to say.

So much of me wants to shout the whole truth: I didn’t invite him and I didn’t ask him to buy me a drink and I wasn’t waiting for him—I was waiting for you. Ryan is a cheap thrill, a second best I’m keeping in the dugout so I don’t have to be alone when you leave me like you left me last time. That’s the whole, sad truth, but I don’t say it, because I sympathize with Ryan. I grew up being the second best. He and I might not be the Dereks and the Averys, but we still have feelings.

Derek nods and turns to the bar. It feels like a sharp dismissal.

“Whit? You comin’?” Ryan asks.

“Derek? It’s not…”

He glances back and his eyes look right through me as he nods in Ryan’s direction. “Your friend’s waiting for you.”

“Derek—”

“I’m tired, Whitney,” he says, his voice so harsh I take a step back. “Not tonight. Yeah?”

He turns to the bar and I’m left standing there behind him, looking foolish. I can’t make myself move. I stare at his back, trying to shove all of my emotions down beneath the surface, but it’s proving harder than ever. Only a moment ago, our hands were linked together and our night held all the possibilities I could imagine, but now he won’t even look at me. He stands there, waiting for the bartender, his rigid body warning me to leave him alone. He clearly wants some space.

I turn and make my way back to the table. Ryan is there, eyes unfocused as he runs a hand through his hair. Our beers sit untouched in front of him.

I come up to stand beside him and thank him for the drink. He doesn’t say a word.

“I’m sorry,” I offer quietly.

It’s an apology that’s long overdue.

He leaves it there, lingering uncomfortably, before he finally speaks up.

“How long have you been into Derek?” he asks as we continue to eye our untouched beers.

The words come rushing out of me too emphatically. “I’m not.”

“Could have fooled me.” He laughs wistfully. “It’s funny…the signs were there. It was pretty obvious you weren’t into me, but I didn’t want to believe it, you know?” He stands and shakes his head. “I’m gonna head home.”

I grab his sleeve, my face expressing all the anguish I feel inside. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be, you know. I was shooting out of my league.”

Then he turns, tugs his arm out of my grasp, and shoves through the crowd. As he disappears, tears start to blur my vision.

I’ve never felt so disappointed in myself. I was cruel. I should have been honest with Ryan from the very beginning. I wish he would come back. In fact, I want to shout his name and beg him to let me explain everything. I don’t, though. It would be a selfish move, a way to assuage my own guilt. Why would Ryan care about my history with Derek? It doesn’t change tonight’s outcome for him. He has feelings for me that I can’t reciprocate. I hoped I could, but I can’t, and now he knows it. I owe him space.

I wipe my eyes, trying hard to hide my public meltdown. I’ve never cried in a bar before. With the neon beer sign buzzing near my head, I might as well be starring in a music video on CMT.

I drag my gaze back to the bar and find Derek’s still right where I left him, waiting for the bartender, elbows resting on the bar, focus straight ahead. Suddenly, I’m determined to talk to him even if he is tired, even if he wants to be left alone. I can’t let tonight end like this. I wipe my cheeks one more time and that’s when I notice the brunette from earlier—the one who fluffed her hair when he first walked in. She’s standing behind him, gathering courage. She straightens her blouse and then leans forward, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns and glances down at her. I stand frozen, watching them. She speaks and gives him a kind smile, rocking back on her heels before extending her hand. He returns her smile and accepts her hand. Their connection is a blow I didn’t see coming. The bartender finally gets around to taking Derek’s order. He turns to the brunette, asking something before holding up two fingers.