When We Met

Amanda gave me a crushing hug as she jumped up and down with excitement. My own happiness waned when I saw the dejected look on Dalton’s face on the big screen. He was being interviewed on the crowded court by the sideline reporter, but he didn’t look as happy as you would think he’d be. His shoulders slumped and his face was completely defeated as the camera showed him jogging off toward the locker room. It was obvious something was wrong.

I had to fight the urge to grab my phone from my pocket. Even if I called to check on him, he probably wouldn’t answer anyway. His phone would likely be turned off. Besides, I wasn’t sure he would want to hear from me. Maybe our relationship hadn’t reached that point. Things were moving fast for us, but we’d only had three dates and one night of unforgettable sex. Technically we’d only been together a few weeks. I figured I’d just call him later after my shift was over.

The rest of my shift felt like I was walking underwater as the night dragged. The clock seemed to taunt me with each hour passing in slow motion. My nerves were stretched to the limit as the look on Dalton’s face kept flashing in my head. It was killing me not knowing what was wrong. I was sure it was just game stuff, but they’d still won. My hand closed around my cell phone for about the hundredth time since the game ended, but I forced myself to drop it back in my pocket. I would wait.

Closing duties were like an exercise in hell. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. Like spilling water all over the entryway carpet when the wheel on the mop bucket got stuck, or dumping an entire tray of premade burgers on the floor as I was trying to slide them into the industrial-sized refrigerator. By the time Amanda and I left, I was in a foul mood and anxious to drop her off so I could finally call Dalton.

I was dialing his number before Amanda had even closed the car door. I bit back a groan of dismay when it went straight to voice mail. “Shit,” I muttered to my empty car.

I stepped on the gas a little too hard, spi

The next morning, I woke to find my message hadn’t been returned. No missed calls or voice mails, either. More than a little disappointed, I tossed my phone aside and climbed from bed. A burst of energy had me stripping my bed before heading to the laundry room with an armful of linens. Once the sheets were in the wash, I headed back to my room and gave it a whirlwind cleaning. I needed something to keep my mind occupied.

After changing out of my pajamas, I tried to call Dalton again with the same result as the night before. I sent him another text message before leaving my clean room behind. The nagging thoughts creeping into my head were begi

The kitchen was noisy and crowded when I entered, tempting me to hit a drive-through instead. It was great that Indy and Misha were both in love, but seeing them wrapped around their guys first thing in the morning after the sleepless night I’d had wasn’t all that appealing. Kier gave me a nod, looking uncomfortable amidst the chaos. In the small amount of time I’d spent with him, I had discovered he was quiet and not overly comfortable in loud settings. I smiled at him sympathetically before grabbing a package of Pop-Tarts and heading back to my room.

“Hey, where are you going?” Misha called after me. “Darryn decided to cook us all breakfast. Isn’t he a sweetie?” she asked, patting Darryn’s butt.

I snorted at her term of endearment. Darryn was known for being a badass and had even been thrown out of his last place for fighting, but he was downright docile in Misha’s hands. At the moment, it was just too mushy for my stomach to handle.

“Wait, I thought I was just making breakfast for you,” he joked, pulling Misha in close.

Chloe and I exchanged looks. They had it bad.

“Shoot. I’d like to stay, but my mom is expecting me.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Mom was expecting me, just not this early. Edging out of the kitchen, I made my escape, breathing a sigh of relief as I closed the front door behind me. I really was happy for my roommates, but at the moment I had too much drama going on in my head.

Mom was still in her pj’s reading the paper when I arrived at her apartment forty minutes later. She was the only person I knew who still had the Sunday paper delivered to her house. I found her sitting on her living room couch with her legs folded up under her while she sipped her coffee.

“Hey, you’re early,” she said as I bent down to give her a hug.

“Things were a little crowded at Hamilton House this morning.” I pulled off my jacket and tossed it on the recliner. Mom raised her eyebrows. I knew what that meant. Sighing, I picked up the jacket and walked to the closet to hang it up. Even now that I was an adult, one of Mom’s looks still got me to jump into action.

Once my coat was stowed away to her satisfaction, I joined Mom on the couch and grabbed the sales ads. Not that I was a big shopper, but I liked to skim through each one. One of these days I wouldn’t be a poor college student anymore, and hopefully would have the money to actually buy something frivolous. That was if I could find work after graduation. I had this terrible fear that I would finish school only to discover there were no jobs available. I was forever second-guessing my major. Art history was a narrow field, to say the least.

Mom left me to my reading for a few minutes before playing the mom card. “So, who do I need to hurt?” She set her empty coffee mug on the table.

“What?” I asked, feigning i

I sat stoically silent, willing myself to remain strong. As long as I used the paper as a shield, she wouldn’t be able to see my face. The silence stretched on, and finally I couldn’t resist peeking over the newspaper to see if she’d given up. It was a classic mistake that had bitten me in the butt numerous times growing up. I should have known. Mom never gave up. Lowering the paper, I found her eyes on mine.

I made a production of dramatically sighing and folding the paper before answering. “It’s no big deal.”

“If it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t be keeping it from me.” That was her mom wisdom in action. There was no arguing with her reasoning.

“I’m a little confused,” I finally muttered, getting up to grab a Coke from the refrigerator.

She waited until I returned with my soda before asking. “About what?”

Her question was simple enough, but it opened the floodgates. Before I knew it, I was pouring out every detail to her: Dalton’s sudden interest, the text messages, the heart on his cheek that had earned him a date in the first place, and finally the look on his face after last night’s game and how he wasn’t returning my calls or messages. I didn’t mention that I had slept with him, and luckily she didn’t ask. I expected her typical parental advice about how we all learn from our mistakes, but she surprised me.

“There may be a simple explanation for what’s going on. I would wait until he calls before making any snap decisions.”

I looked at her incredulously. It wasn’t like she was a man-hater, but she’d always kept the guys she dated at arm’s length.