Just Like That

Chapter 15

MEL

“Pens down.”

Rubbing my eyes, I lay down my pen, a smile creeping across my face. The excitement in the air around me is palpable. It’s over. The last college exam of my life. And not a moment too soon.

Sea Nest gave me time off for my exams, but I’m expected back at work tomorrow. That’s okay. I’ve finally got my ass into gear and mapped out my post-graduation path.

I’ll stick out my internship with Sea Nest until graduation and then pack up my apartment and go back home to Mt. Vernon. I want to spend some time with Mom and Dad, and then I’m packing a bag and hopping a plane to Chicago. I had toyed with somewhere south, but I think I’d miss the weather – as crazy as that sounds.

I’ve been looking at job listings in Chicago. There have been a few I have applied for, but until I graduate, it’s a moot point. I couldn’t resist applying for a design position at Haven Enterprises. It’s the first company started by the billionaire businessman Bill Westerhaven almost twenty years ago. He has other businesses now – five others, including a publishing company here in Seattle – but everyone knows Haven Enterprises opens doors.

My paper is collected, and I pack up my pens, standing and stretching. I have a bottle of champagne in my fridge with my name on it. Literally.

Jumping on the bus, I grin out the window as Seattle flashes past. I smile broadly at my two neighbors in the elevator with me and drop my bag onto the armchair as I cross to my fridge and open it, my eyes landing on the expensive bottle of champagne that appeared at my door yesterday. Courier delivered. Of course.

You don’t celebrate the end of college every day, Tinker Bell. You might as well celebrate it properly.

I miss Pete with an ache in my soul. It’s like I have lost a limb, and I can still feel it. It has been radio silence, and it is worse than when Bee was barely texting me back. I miss texting Pete every day. I miss seeing him one or two times a week. I can’t watch romcoms because they remind me of him.

Sighing, I grab the bottle, popping it and smirking as I pour it into a jam jar, snapping a picture and texting it to him.

MEL: Thanks for the champagne. Tastes even better out of a jar!

My phone stays silent. Of course it does. Another dagger to my heart. Taking my jar of champagne, I curl up on my couch, flicking on the TV and tuning it to some cooking channel.

I think about texting Bee, but I don’t want to. She’d ask about Pete, and I don’t want to talk about him. I want to sit here and think about him and wallow. At least I’m wallowing with delicious, expensive champagne.

Sighing, I stand, padding to my closet and picking out my outfit for tomorrow. I might as well look at more job listings in Chicago. At least that will take my mind off Pete.

PETE

My phone buzzes, and I glance at it, my stomach jolting.

TINKER BELL: Thanks for the champagne. Tastes even better out of a jar!

I sent her the champagne, knowing she had her final exams this week and probably wouldn’t celebrate with her friend, Bee. My fingers itch to text back, but I broke my self-imposed rule of putting Tinker Bell out of my life and my mind when I sent her the champagne. Texting her would throw that out the window completely.

I miss her. I miss her like a piece of my lungs is missing. I have become a workaholic this week. Anything to distract me from the fact that there won’t be any more nights holed up at Mel’s apartment, watching ridiculously cheesy romcoms and eating takeout.

My phone buzzes again, and I grab it eagerly. God, how fucking pathetic.

ANDY: Get your fucking ass down here. You won’t believe this fucking game.

Fuck. Sighing, I drop my phone, rubbing my eyes. I wanted it to be Mel so badly. Disappointment courses through me. What the hell. One drink won’t hurt.

Grabbing my briefcase, I make my way down to the parking garage, sliding in and driving to the sports bar. Andy is there, drinking beer and saving me a barstool. I drop onto it, raising my hand to the bartender to order a beer.

Andy isn’t wrong. It’s a hell of a game.

“What did you decide?” he asks, his eyes glued to the TV. I know he’s talking about Mel.

“I broke things off last week.”

“No wonder you look like shit.”

I’d flip him off, but I do look like shit. I’m sleeping terribly, working too hard, and living off coffee.

“Is that why you’ve dragged me down here?”

“Friends don’t let friends wallow about walking away from the love of their life alone,” Andy replies flippantly, tapping his beer glass against mine.

I snort, but it feels like he is spitting facts. I don’t know if Mel is the love of my life, but I know she could have been if we had given this thing a chance. If only I had met her in a few years when she was older and more settled. When she had figured out what she wanted from life.

“You’re wallowing,” Andy reminds me, clapping me on the back.

“So let me fucking wallow,” I mutter darkly, taking a deep drink.

“I know what will cheer you up,” he laughs. My eyes follow his to two good-looking women. Yeah, not fucking happening. I don’t want to go over there and try to get some woman into bed. I want to be in Mel’s bed, curled around her and smelling her hair as we sleep.

“Not happening,” I growl. Andy’s eyes dart toward me, and he laughs.

“How about I let you wipe the floor with me at the pool table instead?”

I snort into my beer. “You won’t let me do shit, but I will wipe the floor with you.”

Andy grins, and we rise from our barstools, making our way over to the pool tables. It will get my mind off Mel for maybe twenty minutes, but I’ll take what I can get.