It sounded silly, but even from a distance I could feel his eyes on me as I drove down that road. Watching me leave the garage. Watching me leave him. As I drove, I kept taking small peeks in the review mirror, waiting to see a red bike coming up and over the hill. I’d almost made it home when I realize that he wasn’t getting on his bike to follow me. And I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed. Slowing down, I pulled over to the side of the road, trying to catch my breath. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath, my chest hurt, it ached. I ached. It didn’t feel like that with Trevor. I never knew it could feel like this. Could friends hurt you this bad?
I’d only known the guys for two months, but it seemed my heart was more invested than all those years I was with Trevor. Putting the car into gear, I continued to drive to my house, and I knew what I’d do once I got there. I was going to cry, pour me a shot of something, anything. And drink it with ice cream. Because I could say one thing with all my bad situations those damn doughnuts had always been my downfall.
And I told you it was always their fault.
About the Author
Erica Andrews grew up in rural Alabama, playing in creeks, and running on dirt roads. She married the annoying guy, who ended up becoming her best friend. They got married right out of high school and promptly started having children.
Almost fifteen years later and four children, they now live in Ohio. Where sometimes she still runs barefooted and sticks her feet in a creek.
For more information on Erica Andrews:
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Road To Me Page 16
