Friend Zoned (Barnett Bulldogs #2) (37 page)

But there’s not.

There’s absolutely nothing.

For just a moment, his eyes spear mine.  His voice is soft.  “You don’t have to apologize anymore.  It was an accident.  Everything will be fine with my family.  It just has to settle.  Okay?”

Glancing away, I stare silently out the window.

“Vi?  Did you hear me?”

Without looking back at him, I say quietly, “Yeah, I got it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Forcing out a little puff of air, I finally admit, “Last week, being without you… it really sucked.”  My eyes slide carefully to his as he continues focusing on the road ahead of him, easily maneuvering his way through the thick traffic near campus.  “Your friendship… it means everything to me.  I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it again.”

His fingers tighten around mine.  Quietly he admits, “I just needed some time to work through what happened.  That’s all.”

Even though I hear what he’s saying, I continue pushing out the rest of the words. “I know.  I’m just sorry I put you in that kind of position.  I really am.  Staying with my grandparents this last week, I’ve had a lot of time to think.  About us… our friendship… and what happened.”  Sucking in a deep breath, I finally say, “I think it’s for the best if we just go back to being friends.”

My words are met with a deafening silence that slowly fills the cab of his truck.  Just when I start to wonder if he’s going to acknowledge my words, he clears his throat before asking, “Is that what you really want, Vi?  For us to be
just friends
?”

Even though I don’t want that at all, I force myself to nod in response.  “It’s better that way.”

In the eight years we’ve been friends, we’ve never had one single problem.  We never went for days without talking or texting.  And yet, in less than a few weeks of us being together, I almost single handedly destroyed our entire relationship.

So… yeah, obviously it seems like the safest route for us to take.

With his bright blue eyes trained on the road ahead of him, he doesn’t utter another word.  Surely he must see the truth in what I’m saying.

Then we can just go back to being Violet and Sam.

No pressure.

Just friendship.

The way it was always meant to be.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I’m just picking up a few things from the dorm when Mia pokes her head around the corner of the door. 

“Hey, how’s everything going with your grandfather?  It’s been a few days since I’ve seen you.”

“He’s doing much better.  A lot of resting right now which is driving him crazy.  Apparently there’s only so much CNN a person can watch.”  Inhaling a breath, I let it out slowly. “But I think he’s going to be alright.”

“That’s good to hear.”  Moving further into the room, she plops herself down on my bed.  For a few minutes, she simply watches me.  “When do you think you’ll move back to the dorms?”  Her mossy green eyes hold mine. “I’ve missed having you around, Vi.  It’s been way too quiet here.”

My lips lift at her words.  “I’ll be back in a few days.  I just want to make sure he’s doing alright.”

She nods in understanding.  Mia knows exactly how much my grandparents mean to me.    She’s been invited over for a ton of dinners and has stayed with us during summer breaks.  “You can take my car back and forth if you want.  It’s not like I really need it during the week.”

Yeah, it probably would be easier if I just used Mia’s car.  I feel kind of bad that Sam has been carting my ass around, but every time I suggest getting there on my own, he quickly shuts down the conversation.  Plus, I like being with him.  I’m really hoping that the more time we spend together, the quicker our friendship will slide back to normal.

To what it once was.

When we were friends.

Just friends.

When I was completely oblivious to his feelings for me.  When my heart didn’t beat solely for him.

Unfortunately, with all the quiet time I now have on my hands, I find myself dwelling on the weeks we spent together.  Even though I keep trying to lock the memories up tight, I still find myself reliving them over and over and over again.

The sharp shafts of longing that slide through my body are killing me.  For my own sanity, I have to stop remembering the feel of his strong hands as they slowly trailed over my skin.  Or the way his fingers would sink into my hair as he held my head still for one of his bone melting kisses.

Or the way he…

Shaking my head, I try dislodging those dangerous thoughts before they can take root within me again.

It’s as if Mia knows exactly what direction my mind has veered off into.  “How are things with Sam?”

Turning, so that she can’t scrutinize my facial expressions, I go to my dresser, pulling out drawers before tossing two shirts, some underwear, and three pairs of socks into my bag.  “Fine.  Everything’s good.”

I don’t want to discuss my relationship with Sam.  It still feels too fresh.  As much as I want everything to be exactly the way it once was between us, it’s not.  It’s like we’re both trying so damn hard to be normal again.  But the thinly veiled tension is still there, wafting around us.

Time, I remind myself.  It’s just going to take time.  I have to be patient.  Those two sentences have become something of a mantra to me.

Even though I give her an overly bright smile, she sees right through it.  “Is it really?”

“Yep, we’re good.”  Pausing, I force out the rest of the words.  Because they need to be said.  And I need to accept them, difficult as that may be.  “We’ve decided that we’re better off as friends.”

Her dark brows beetle together as she continues watching me from her perch on my bed.  “Oh.”

Saying the rest is like ripping off a Band-Aid.  I have to do it quickly, so that all the words run together into one long word.  “
It-just-didn’t-work-out
.”  I throw in a careless shrug for good measure, hoping that she’ll buy the bullshit I’m trying so desperately to sell.  “You know how it goes.”

Even though I’m trying to keep my face wiped free of all the hurt and regret swirling around within me, Mia sees right through it.  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”  She nips her bottom lip with her teeth before hesitantly asking, “Was it because of the picture?”

Dragging in another deep breath, I expel the air slowly before zipping up the bag.  I can feel the tension seeping its way between my shoulder blades.  I need to get out of here, away from her questions.  As well intentioned as Mia is, discussing the demise of my relationship with Sam hurts too much.

I’m nowhere near ready to do an autopsy on it just yet.

“That was a big part of it,” I admit reluctantly.

Hell, this is hardly my first break up.  More like my hundredth.  I really should be a pro at this by now.  At moving on without a backwards thought regarding whoever had been filling the void for a week or two.  And normally, that’s exactly how it is.

But this time is different.

Sam
is different.

“It really is better this way.”  Even though I keep repeating the words, I don’t quite believe them.

Yet
.

I don’t quite believe them
yet
.  It’s just going to take some time.  And patience.  Just like getting my friendship back on track with Sam.  I just have to continue being patient.

“I’m really sorry about the whole photograph fiasco.  About not doing anything to stop Caroline.”

Caroline.

Grrrr.

It’s hard not to grit my teeth every time I think about her.

About what she did.

I tracked her ass down a few days ago and we had some words.  More like some not-so-nice words, to put it politely.  Sure, she apologized for stealing the picture from my phone, but still...  The damage is done and there’s not a damn thing that can change it.

“For what it’s worth, I thought you two were really good together.”

Not wanting to touch that comment with a ten foot pole, I simply nod, trying to keep my hands busy.

But instead of dropping the subject, she adds another dagger through my heart.

“You seemed really happy with him.”

Yeah.  That’s because I was.  I was really happy with Sam.  Probably the happiest I’d ever been in my entire life.

Even though the sting of tears pricks the back of my eyes, I don’t let them fall.  I blink the little buggers back to wherever they came from before reminding myself that what matters most is that Sam and I are slowly finding our way back to one another.

“It’s better this way,” I repeat stoically.

Maybe someday, if I’m lucky, I’ll actually believe those words.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately.  Everything okay at school?”

I throw a fleeting smile over my shoulder as I finish washing up the dishes in the sink.  “Yep, everything’s fine.”

Even though I’ve turned back towards the soapy water, I feel my grandmother’s warm hazel eyes on me, assessing my words for the truth.  Last week, I ever-so-casually broke the news that Sam and I had rather amicably decided to part ways.  Looking surprised, she asked a few gently probing questions about the demise of our relationship.  Instead of answering, I shut down the conversation before it could get out of hand.  I know she’s only trying to help, but right now there is nothing that dulls the pain of this break up.  It’s like a constantly throbbing wound that, for whatever reason, refuses to heal.  I would have thought that after a solid week of moping, the ache would have begun to subside.

It hasn’t.

It still feels raw and surprisingly tender.

Which is utterly ridiculous, it’s not like we were together all that long.

Losing him shouldn’t feel so… crushing.

Silently I stare out the window above the sink.  Feeling oddly restless, my gaze roams over the tree lined backyard until it lands on a small huddled form sitting on the neighboring swing set, gently rocking back and forth.

My brows draw together as I continue watching the figure.

I’ve been staying at my grandparent’s house for a little over a week now and this is the first time I’ve even seen Ari.  The way her head hangs forward, as if she’s just staring down at the toes of her shoes, has me wondering if something’s wrong.

Breaking into my thoughts, my grandmother says carefully, “I know you don’t want to talk about what happened with Sam, but maybe you two just need to try working things out.  Give your relationship another chance.”

Slowly the air leaves my lungs as I keep my eyes focused on the small blonde girl rocking gently back and forth on the swing. Instead of responding to her comment, I grab a dish towel before drying my hands off.  “Ari’s out in the backyard.  I’m going to go say hi.”

Gran spears me with a look.  One that lets me know that I’m not fooling her for a second as she continues scooping chocolate chip cookie dough onto a gleaming silver tray before popping it carefully into the oven.  Unconsciously I hold my breath, waiting to see if she’ll drop the previous conversation.

Sighing, she finally says, “Let her know that the cookies will be done in about ten minutes if she wants to come over and have a few.”

I aim a small grateful smile in her direction, thankful that she’s dropped the topic of Sam for now.  This is the first time in nearly two weeks that the lifting of my lips doesn’t feel so strained around the edges.  “I will.”

Grabbing my jacket off a hook in the back hall, I zip it all the way up before opening the door.  It has to be about thirty degrees out.  Shoving my hands deep inside my pockets, I continue walking towards Ari.  She must be freezing.  Her jacket is thin and she doesn’t have gloves or a hat to ward off the December chill.

As the wind continues slapping at my ears, I’m suddenly wishing that I had grabbed a hat and some warm mittens.  Instead of turning around to get them, I keep moving across the yard.  Even when I’m no more than a few steps away from where she sits, Ari still doesn’t look up or acknowledge my presence.

Taking hold of the yellow chain link swing, I lower myself down onto the plastic seat.  Almost immediately cold seeps through my jeans making a little shiver dance its way across my flesh. 

“Everything okay, Ari?”

At my gentle words, she finally glances over at me.  Her deep blue eyes, ones that remind me so very much of Sam’s, pierce mine.  I give her a slight smile in return because it’s fairly obvious from the bleak expression marring her normally smiling face that it’s not.

The slight shrugging of her slender shoulders is all the response I get.

Using my feet, I push myself so that the swing arcs gently back and forth.  “You want to talk about it?”

Still staring down at the toes of her shoes, she shakes her head.

“Okay,” I say in response, “you don’t have to tell me what’s going on.  Would you rather be alone right now?  I can always head back inside.”