Never Say Never (The Ladies Who Brunch 1)

Ileft brunch yesterday feeling lighter and confident again in where I’m at in my life, but then Monday morning rolled around and my job had my head pounding before noon. My boss, the editor-in-chief, came in and told me that the board wants all of the advertising for the year fulfilled before the end of June, meaning we have to be prepared for six months from now, which in the publishing world can be a difficult task when trends and hot topics change daily, especially now thanks to social media.

But I told her we’d get it done and I instantly called for an emergency meeting with my team. After a brainstorming session, I sent everyone out with their list of contacts and got to work on my own set of duties. Lunch time rolled around and my grumbling stomach couldn’t be ignored any longer, so I decided to go down the block to a local sandwich and salad shop to get some fresh air before a long afternoon ahead.

“Hi, what can we get for you today?” The college-aged kid behind the counter greets me as I stare up at the menu, flashbacks of working a similar job infiltrating my mind as he waits for my decision.

“I’ll have the Greek salad today, no onion please, extra feta cheese, and with grilled chicken.” Put feta cheese on anything and I’ll eat it. Put extra, and I’ll love you forever.

He enters my order, I pay, and then take my stand with the number on top and find a spot outside so I can enjoy the warm weather while I wait for my food. Large tan umbrellas shade me from the sun, but I slip my heels off and peek my toes out from under the shadow above me to help warm up my feet.

As I wait for my food, I check my emails on my phone, replying to a handful I had to ignore while in my meeting this morning. But a figure inside the shop catches my attention as I slide my eyes in that direction.

And then my stomach drops.

Damien Shaw.

My childhood nemesis and the one person I swore I would never see again once I left for college is standing just inside the same place I just vacated.

Funny how reminders of a life in South Carolina can follow you to southern California and reappear when you least expect them.

I sink down slightly in my chair, blanketing my hair across my face, attempting to conceal myself as I take this opportunity to scope out my previous competition in, well, everything.

You see, f Damien and I weren’t friends. And we weren’t enemies. We were rivals, hell bent on outdoing the other in any and all aspects while growing up. Best score on a math test? That was a competition. Best performance in the school play? I beat him on that one almost every time. Captain of the sports team? He clenched football while I soared in soccer.

And the thing that irritated me more than anything is that he would act like we were best friends in front of our families, so everyone thought he was just the sweetest young man on the planet.

But I knew better. I knew the real Damien Shaw. And he was a dick.

Still looks like one too, although I will say he has definitely grown up and learned how to fill out a suit in the time since I last saw him.

Twelve years? Has it really been twelve years since high school graduation when I vowed to never be near him again unless I absolutely had to?

As our last interaction plays back in my mind, my current situation forces me back to reality just as one of the employees comes by with my salad.

“Thank you.” I make quick work of pouring the dressing over the top and stirring the contents while continuing to sneak a peek at Damien, who’s still standing in line inside, talking to another man in a suit that I have no clue the identity of, but their conversation seems intense.

Damien was always tall, but like I said before, he’s filled out, packing on probably thirty pounds of muscle compared to when I saw him last. His dark brown hair is freshly cut, short on the sides and slightly longer on top, messily styled so he looks just professional enough but also casual and put together. And he has a short, trimmed beard–a new addition that he never sported back then but is unfortunately working well for him.

He’s wearing a dark gray suit that looks tailored to his body, or it’s just a really good designer label—hard to tell from where I’m sitting. Standing with his hands in his pockets, the sides of his coat are pushed out just enough to tell that he didn’t gain a beer belly in college and instead has a slim waist that the belt on his slacks hangs just perfectly on.

Damn. I would have loved nothing more than to see that he let himself go a little.

On the contrary, it seems to me that Damien takes very good care of himself, even more apparent as he turns toward the counter and I get a glance at his backside, his trousers stretched tight across his ass and thighs.

My God. Did Damien always have an ass you could bounce a quarter off? Or is that new too?

Charlotte…are you salivating after Damien Shaw’s ass right now?

Ugh…what is wrong with me? Although seriously…look at it!

I shake off the thought and start to inhale my salad, realizing now that he may see me depending on where he and his friend decide to sit. I don’t want him to see me. I don’t want to even fathom what our first encounter in twelve years would be like, especially while I’m sitting all alone eating my lunch, a detail I’m sure he’d be happy to point out.

Deciding that it’s better to leave before he spots me, I snap the lid back on my salad, grab my iced tea, and quickly clean up my table, depositing my trash in the nearby trashcan before exiting the courtyard through the side gate.

As I walk back to my office with my food and drink in tow, reeling from that blast from my past, another detail hits me that I didn’t even think about until I saw him today; Damien’s parents are friends with mine, and will most likely be at their vow renewal next month, which could only mean one thing—Damien will probably be there too.