No Bad Days (Fisher Brothers 1)

“There’s nothing to tell. I have a crush, but he doesn’t know I exist.” She rolled her brown eyes. “Typical, right? I’m such a stereotype.”

I glanced around at the guys working, wondering who it could be. I wasn’t sure why it surprised me so much that Brooke would be interested in someone. Even shy workaholics paid attention to their hearts sometimes.

When my gaze fell on a waiter with wavy blond hair, I glanced at Brooke to see where she was looking. Just as I had suspected, her eyes were glued to the back of this guy’s head.

“That him?” I asked with a subtle nod in his direction.

Her eyes snapped to mine. “Please don’t say anything, Jess. Please,” she begged, shifting in her seat.

“Why would I say anything? I don’t want to embarrass you.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and I wondered exactly what kind of person Brooke thought I was. It was clear that she didn’t really know me, but to be fair, I didn’t know her very well either. We had gone out to dinner a total of two times since I moved in, and this was our third.

I narrowed my eyes at the guy, wondering if I could place him. “Is he in our major?” I asked, and she shook her head.

“No, but he works here and at the campus library.”

Choking back a laugh, I felt things click into place in my mind. “And I thought you spent all your time at the library because you were such a good student.”

She gave me a sheepish look. “I am a good student. But I might spend more time there than is really necessary.”

“I would too,” I admitted with a smile.

“It’s not stupid, right?”

“I’m probably not the best person to ask, but if I liked someone who worked on campus, I’d spend all my time there stalking him. I’d never come home,” I said, half serious, half joking.

A waitress stopped at our table to take our order, and dropped off two glasses of water. Brooke relaxed a little more, probably because she was relieved that the cute guy wasn’t waiting on us.

Giving me a curious look, Brooke asked, “So, why aren’t you the best person to ask?” When I narrowed my eyes in confusion, she added, “About this kind of stuff. Do you have a boyfriend back in LA? I kind of assumed you did.”

My heart sank. I wasn’t sure where the hell it thought it was heading, but thoughts of Nick made it plummet without my consent.

“Really? Why would you assume that?”

She shrugged. “Because you don’t go to any of the fraternity parties. It doesn’t seem like you’re trying to meet anyone, so I thought you had someone back home.”

Emotions swirled through me. Talking about Nick with Rachel was one thing. It was easier, somehow, since she had gone through it all with me. But talk about him with Brooke? I didn’t even know where to begin, or how.

“It’s complicated,” I said before taking a gulp of my water. “Shit, it’s not complicated. I don’t know what it is.” That wasn’t entirely true. “It’s nothing. I don’t have a boyfriend back home. I did, but he broke up with me before I moved here.”

“He broke up with you? Why?” She leaned forward, seeming genuinely interested.

“I really don’t know. He said that he didn’t want to date long-distance. That it would never work.” I tried to say these things with as little emotion as possible, but knew I was failing when I felt that telltale burn behind my eyes. Dammit. I fucking hated that Nick still affected me this way, that he could still affect me at all.

Brooke leaned back, studying me a moment before stating, “He broke your heart.”

I couldn’t disagree. “He did.”

“And it’s still broken.”

My eyes began to fill. Furious with myself, I swiped a finger under my eyes and steadied myself. I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to convince her that she was wrong, that I was fine, that I was over it. Over him. But every aspect of that would have been a lie, and I wasn’t a liar. “It’s in a million pieces.”

She reached across the table and laid her hand on mine for a moment before she gave it a squeeze and pulled back. “I’ve never had a broken heart, so I don’t know what it feels like, but I’m really sorry he did that. And I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

“Thanks.” Sniffling, I grabbed my napkin and wiped away the tears that had escaped without my permission.

“Can I ask you something else?” she asked, and I nodded. “Have you talked to him since you moved up here?”