Diana was shocked when she saw what little we both had, so much to my protest, she decided from day one that we needed new wardrobes. She took us both to the mall and spent thousands on new clothes for us. Of course, she knew from shopping for Scott back then that he and I both favored clothes that looked worn and tattered when they, in fact, cost as much as the preppy stuff my brother wanted. Either way, I might have looked like I shopped at Goodwill, but it was the furthest thing from the truth.
But that was the last thing I was ever going to tell Cassie. My life story wasn’t something I told people readily, because it was embarrassing, and Cassie already had such wonderful opinions of me. Instead I just stared at her and clenched my fists together, trying to hold back from lashing out at her for calling me an unwashed, ugly, loser, but I was pretty sure she’d also said I was hot now, and for some reason as I zeroed in on that comment, my anger started to ebb, my brain having a mind of its own. Stupid brain.
Cassie was looking at me speculatively, as if trying to see the guy I’d been in who I was today. I looked different, that was for sure, but not that different. I’d grown about six inches since high school, my hair was short, and I’d started working out, but my face was exactly the same as it had always been. I could see the recognition slowly starting to dawn on her face.
“That guy used to sit in class and watch Mr. Clark lecture while he turned his notes into paper airplanes. He didn’t even look down. He just did it blindly,” she said, pulling a memory out of the past.
Keeping my eyes on her, I grabbed a napkin and folded into a paper airplane while she watched me with wide eyes. Then I flew it across the table where it died in her lap since it was too heavy to gain any real flight momentum. Making paper airplanes had been a nervous habit I’d picked up years earlier. If I didn’t do it, I’d start spending class time writing, and I’d never listen to the teacher. It kept my mind focused.
“Holy shit,” Cassie hissed as she picked up the napkin airplane that had come unfolded. Then she looked up at me again with wide eyes. “That was you?”
“Skinny and weird with greasy long hair and acne. Yup, sounds like me,” I said sardonically, and she frowned.
“No, Jared. I’m sorry,” she said quickly, finally hearing the words that had come out of her mouth.
“Whatever,” I said, shrugging. “That was years ago. It’s fine.”
I felt like I had to play it off like what she’d said didn’t cut me at my core since she looked like she was about to cry.
“I’m sorry,” she said earnestly. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m such a bitch.”
Well . . .
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously.”
She was biting her lip, and she wouldn’t look at me. I just watched her, feeling guilty for some unknown reason.
“Who’s your friend, Jare?” Brooke said then, suddenly appearing next to our table. I had no idea where she’d been for the past twenty minutes, but there she was, glaring at Cassie and practically spitting venom.
“We’re not friends,” Cassie said then before she got up from the table and bolted to the bathroom, her hands covering her face.
“Shit,” I cursed, as I started to get up to go after her, but Brooke blocked me in, so I sat back down.
“Lover’s quarrel?” she asked, leaning down so she was closer to eye-level with me. “I thought you said you weren’t seeing anyone.”
“I’m not.”
“Then who’s that?” she demanded.
I glanced over at the bathroom. All I could think about was that Cassie was upset, and I’d most likely made her cry. I hadn’t meant to. I wasn’t a jerk.
“She’s the new server Rick hired. I’m training her.”
Brooke narrowed her eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me. That was not a conversation between you and someone you just met. You’ve slept with her.”
“No, I haven’t,” I said firmly, not sure why I was justifying myself to her. I actually wasn’t even sure why I was still sitting there listening to her. I stood up. “Move, Brooke.”
“Why? So you can go comfort your girlfriend? I don’t think so.”
Dammit. She was so freaking frustrating.
“Brooke, move,” I said through gritted teeth. “Now.”
“Fine,” she said, stepping back in a huff. “But if I find out she’s my competition, I’m not going to be happy.”
Fantastic. Great to hear it.
I pushed passed her without responding and walked to the women’s restroom. I knocked softly on the door. “Cassie?”
I could hear the muffled sounds of her crying, and it made my stomach knot up. I hated when girls cried. She didn’t answer me.
“Cassie?” I said again. “I’m coming in, okay?”
“No!” she said quickly, sniffing loudly as I pushed the door open. “I’m fine. Don’t come in.”
“Too late,” I said, right as her face crumbled and she started crying again.
Instinctively, I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her, her vanilla scented lotion assaulting my senses yet again. I tried to ignore it as her face dropped into the crook of my neck, her hands squeezed between her chest and mine, and she sobbed against my t-shirt.
For several minutes we stood there in the middle of the women’s bathroom, her in my arms, the only sound her muffled sobs echoing around us before they slowly subsided. Finally she pulled out of my arms and covered her face once again, turning away from me.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine.”
I stayed still. I was sort of afraid to move.
“No, please,” she said, still not looking at me. “Let me apologize for what I said. It was so mean, and I was such a bitch all through high school. I know that now, and I’m sorry for anything I did to you back then that might have made you feel bad. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I told her honestly, because it was. “Just forget about high school. You didn’t do anything to me directly. It was your friends. I can’t hold that against you.”
It was a small white lie that I figured she needed to hear.
She turned around to face me, her eyes red-rimmed and wet. “Yeah, but I said things today. I said what I thought of you back then, and that was so wrong. I have such a big mouth sometimes, and I don’t always realize how I say things. I shouldn’t have judged you back then. Jared, you’re a nice guy. I’m so sorry if I hurt you.”
“You didn’t,” I said adamantly, because I just wanted her to stop beating herself up.
She was obviously remorseful. And the truth was we weren’t the same people we’d been back then. That was apparent. I could see now that Cassie had changed. She’d lost the edge she’d had years before, and I couldn’t overlook that. No way would the girl she used to be have been upset about hurting my feelings, but Cassie looked devastated, and that kind of endeared me to her, as much as I didn’t want it to.
“Are you sure? Because I’m running through what I said to you, and if someone said that to me, it would hurt.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, even though her words had stung, taking a step closer to her.
I wasn’t sure what provoked me to do it, but I reached out and swept an errant curl off of her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. She looked up and made eye contact with me as my hand dropped back down to my side.
“You don’t have to be nice to me,” she said. “I’d understand if you weren’t, if you hated me.”
“I’m not that kind of guy,” I said honestly, shaking my head.
She nodded. “That’s good. You’re really sweet,” she said, offering me a small smile.
And damn if that didn’t send my pulse into overdrive. Simply the combination of being in such close proximity to her, the scent of her vanilla body lotion lingering on my clothes and the vulnerability she was showing in that moment were enough to make me crazy. I had the sudden and desperate urge to kiss her.
“I’m a nice
guy,” I told her, almost choking out the words I was so tongue-tied all of a sudden.
She nodded. “You are.” Then she took a deep breath. “Can you give me a minute? I want to pull myself together before I head back out there. I know there’s probably a lot of work we need to do before we open, and it’ll take longer because you have to show me.”
I nodded, because she was right. We did have decent amount of work to do, since we didn’t do any side work at the end of our shifts. We did it all at the beginning, but I worked fast. I could get it done in a rush if needed.
“Take your time. I’m going to go fill the salt and pepper shakers,” I told her. “Come out whenever you’re ready, okay?”
She nodded and looked at me gratefully. “Thank you, Jared.”
“You’re welcome,” I told her, knowing that something had shifted between us.
No matter how she’d viewed me in high school or what my impressions of her had been before today, it seemed inevitable that we were going to be friends. Maybe it was because I felt bad for her, or maybe it was because she was so vulnerable in that moment, and it seemed like she really didn’t have anyone to turn to, but it seemed like she needed a friend. And for whatever reason, she wanted to be friends with me. I couldn’t turn my back on her now.
I’d just have to ignore the feelings that told me I was fairly certain I wouldn’t mind being more than friends with her. I knew that would never happen in a million years. She’d never be interested in a guy like me. I was a nice guy after all. And unfortunately I’d learned the hard way that nice guys really do finish last. They didn’t get girls like Cassie Witter.
Chapter Seven
Cassie
I was so incredibly mortified that I’d cried in front of Jared. Shit, I’d cried on his shoulder, after I’d insulted him, and he hadn’t pushed me away. It had all happened so fast. One minute I was feeling embarrassed that I’d been so rude to him, and the next I was feeling like I couldn’t breathe as visions of how clueless I’d been for so long assaulted me.
And the worst part was that talking to him, I’d felt normal for the first time in months. It had been so easy. He didn’t make me feel wounded like my parents did, our conversation hadn’t centered around the shooting like it did when I talked to Marley or Reese, and he didn’t treat me differently because of what I’d been through. He probably didn’t even know, and the anonymity of it was wonderful. It was truly the first real conversation I’d had with anyone since I’d gotten out of the hospital, and then I’d gone and royally screwed it up.
I’d hated myself in that moment, when I’d seen the hurt look in his eyes, and when he’d talked about my friends bullying him and beating up him and Scott. I’d gotten so angry. I couldn’t believe they’d done that, but then again, I probably wouldn’t have done anything about it had I known. God, I could remember laughing as my friends made fun of countless people for no good reason, shoving them when they walked past or calling them names. I’d chalked it up to being a part of high school. We’d thought we were so cool, but we were really assholes – all of us.
I knew that had triggered my emotional breakdown – aside from simply feeling like a total bitch. As soon as Jared described what he’d been through, I’d thought back to the reports I’d read from a few days after the shooting when the police uncovered what they could about the gunman. He’d been quiet and reserved and didn’t have a lot of friends. He’d been picked on most of his life and had been an outcast. They’d found pages and pages of journal entries spewing hate and threats to go after the people who’d hurt him. At the time they had no idea what his trigger point had been, but for some reason that day in January, he’d snapped and gone on a rampage.
Then they found out that his roommate had been eating in the dining hall with his friends, and the gunman had killed him first before going after the guy’s friends and then the innocent people who’d been caught in the crossfire. Some reports said he and his roommate had been arguing that afternoon, but no one really knew the truth.
I couldn’t believe how easily someone could snap like that, but I guess if you push someone far enough there’s no telling what they’ll do. And wasn’t that always how these things usually came about? Some kid or kids were pushed to the outskirts of society and rebelled, taking out their anger at being rejected on those who’d hurt them. It had happened at Columbine, and it had happened again and again over the years at countless schools. It was like a never ending cycle of hatred that was flipped around where the bullied became the bully. And I hated that I’d ever been a part of making someone feel like Jared must have felt all throughout high school. I was such a bitch back then, and I hadn’t even realized it.
And what had really made me feel worse was that Jared had been so sweet when I’d been falling apart. Regardless of what I had done to him in the past or present, he managed to overlook it and be there for me when I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t a horrible person – even though I knew I was. He was such a nice guy, and I should have realized it years ago. I should have talked to him, gotten to know him, looked past who he was on the outside, because if he was the same guy back then that he was today, I probably would have wanted to be his friend.
Now all I wanted to do was apologize for judging him and not talking to him and trying to cheat off of him in English. I wanted to make things right. I hoped he could forgive me. After all, we all make mistakes. I just hoped it wasn’t too late to make amends.
For a lot of reasons, I really wanted him to like me. I wanted us to be friends. Maybe he could see that. Maybe he knew how bad I felt. Maybe he’d realize that I’d changed and he’d like this new version of me better. The girl who was so broken and scarred that she didn’t know who she was anymore, but she knew she couldn’t go back to being who she used to be. Maybe Jared could like the new me – whoever that was. Maybe he could forgive me for being naïve and too stupid to see that outside appearances weren’t everything. Maybe if I showed him that I was different, we could be friends. I had a feeling I could use someone like him in my life.
But how the hell was I supposed to even face him now? I was mortified.
I snuck a look in the bathroom mirror and was appalled to see how blotchy my face was, along with my puffy eyes. I looked like shit, so I quickly splashed some cold water onto a paper towel and patted my face with it, trying to calm my skin down. I took a few deep breaths, wiped under my eyes to remove the mascara that had smeared below my eyelashes and fanned my face with my hand.
After five minutes, I looked halfway presentable and figured it would have to do since I needed to get back to learning my job before Rick decided to fire me for slacking off on my first day. I took one more deep breath, threw my wet, wadded up paper towel into the trashcan and left the sanctuary of the women’s bathroom to go face Jared again.
When I walked up to him, he was focused on filling the salt and pepper shakers for all the tables. They were spread out in front of him in rows like chess pieces.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, simply because it felt like I should say it – again and again and again.
He looked up at me, his bright blue eyes meeting mine. “Are you okay?” he asked sincerely, bypassing my apology.
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Good,” he said, giving me a tentative smile. “Why don’t you finish rolling the silverware? I’ve got this. I can walk you through the rest of the pre-opening checklist during a lull this afternoon.”
“Sounds good,” I said, pulling my shoulders back along with my dignity. “And thank you.”
He shook his head infinitesimally. “No thanks needed.”
Then he went right back to filling salt shakers, so I knew that was my cue to head back to the booth we’d been in, where we’d left the silverware. A part of me wished he’d come with me, that we could keep talking. I wanted to explain, tell him again how truly sorry I was and how I thought he was a really great guy, but I wasn’t going to get a chance to do that. He was
busy with his work, and I had to get busy with mine.
I sat down and started rolling silverware as fast as I could, hoping to prove to him that I was a hard worker and there was no need to tell Rick about my little meltdown. It wouldn’t happen again. I also, maybe, wanted him to be impressed with how much I’d gotten done.
“Hi. How are you?” a newly familiar voice said fifteen minutes later.
I looked up to see the blond who’d approached the table before slide in across from me and start rolling silverware.
“Fine. You?”
She shrugged. “Can’t complain, I guess. So how do you know Jared?”
“I don’t really know him. We just met. He’s training me.”
“He has a girlfriend, you know.”
Okay, point taken. Put your claws away.
“I wasn’t asking if he was available.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but you looked interested, so I wanted to save you the trouble of hearing an answer you wouldn’t like when you eventually asked if he was seeing anyone. He’s not interested in you anyway.”
Damn, this girl was direct. Who the hell was she? Jared’s girlfriend, obviously.
“Am I to assume that you’re his girlfriend?” I asked, trying to keep the peace, because even though this girl probably deserved it, I wasn’t going to unleash my inner bitch on her. I’d already done that to Jared, and I regretted it. I didn’t want to make any enemies at my new job.
“I’m Brooke,” she said, as if that was supposed to ring some sort of bell.
“Nice to meet you, Brooke. I’m Cassie.”
She smiled, but it was an evil smile. “Great.”
Damn, this girl was a bitch. Luckily I’d been friends with enough bitches in my life to know how to handle myself when they got territorial.
Paper Airplanes Page 9
