Chapter 22
Kyler
“This is probably the worst idea you’ve had in a long time.” I killed the engine and sat back, clenching the keys in my hand until the jagged edges cut into my palm. “Seriously.”
Tanner snorted. “I can come up with an entire list of worse ideas, but hey, you’re sober for the first time in two days. And just in time for the holidays.”
Leaning my head back against the headrest, I groaned. “It still feels like someone is slamming an ice pick into my temples.”
“You were pretty drunk,” Tanner commented, reaching for the door. “Which is why I think this dinner is the best idea ever.”
I rubbed my palm along my chin, frowning at the growth of stumble there. I hadn’t shaved since the first night at Snowshoe. “Yeah, you’d think that, since Syd doesn’t hate your guts.”
Tanner rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t hate your guts. I don’t think that would ever be possible.”
“Oh, it’s possible. Trust me.”
“Look, I don’t know what really went down between you two, but something did. It’s not the end of the world.” Tanner opened the passenger door and a wealth of frigid air streamed into the SUV. “So stop being a * and get out of the car.”
I shot him a dirty look, but I climbed out. As I joined him on the other side, I asked the question I’d already asked a dozen times. “She’s knows I’m going to be here, right?”
“Yep.” Tanner opened the door and motioned me in. Once we got past the hostess, he glanced at me. “Okay. I lied. I don’t think Syd knows.”
“What?” I stopped in the middle of the aisle, nearly causing a waiter to slam into me. I glared at Tanner. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Tanner clamped his hand on my shoulder, steering me away from the packed round table in my path. “Nope. Chill out. I’m sure she knows by now.”
Easy for him to say “chill out,” but I felt like I was walking in front of a firing squad. So many times since Syd left Snowshoe, I’d fought the urge to call her. I wanted nothing more than to hear her voice and to see her. And yeah, my fucking stupid-ass heart was bouncing all over the place, but Syd had made herself pretty damn clear.
“You’re a bastard,” I grumbled, running a hand through my hair. Man, I wished I’d shaved. While I had showered, I was sure I still smelled like whiskey. That shit would be bleeding out of my pores for days to come.
I saw Andrea before I saw Syd, and my heart pounded like I’d run up and down the quad, and I was sweating like a whore in church on Sunday. Tanner got in front of me somehow, proving that I was dragging my feet like a mofo.
The bastard took the seat next to Andrea, who had the biggest, fakest smile known to man on her face. Of course, I wanted to sit next to Sydney. I also wanted to touch her, hold her close, and kiss her. There were other things that I wanted to do to her, things that kept me up late at night in a drunken stupor with my hand between my legs.
But I was also sure she might punch me in the balls.
Needing to pull it together, I told myself that the best thing to do was to act normal. With that in mind, I stepped beside the table and looked at Syd.
A heartbeat passed and she looked up, large blue eyes fixed right on me, and it was like seeing Jesus. Okay. Maybe not seeing Jesus, but it was definitely like being socked in the chest and hearing angels harking.
God. Damn. She was beautiful. Wasn’t that I had forgotten that, but after things ending so fucked-up between us, it felt like years instead of days since I’d seen her. Those eyes…they were astonishingly blue and clear. Stunning. There were dark smudges under them, a shade darker than her skin. I wanted to smooth them away, but managed to keep my hands to myself. But then my gaze dropped to her lips, and they parted on a sharp inhale. A faint flush spread across her cheeks and I wanted to chase it with my fingers, my mouth, my tongue…
Everyone was staring at me.
Clearing my throat, I forced myself to sit down and placed my hands on the table. I glanced at Syd. “Hey.”
Her face was blood-red. No one blushed like she did. “Hey.”
Across from me, Tanner raised a brow. Andrea started playing with a piece of bread like she was two. No one spoke, and Syd was so stiff I thought she’d break in half.
Wow, this was awkward as hell. I needed to leave.
“So, is everyone excited about Christmas?” Andrea chirped.
Tanner looked at her and said in a deadpan voice, “I am so excited.”
Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. “You don’t sound excited.”
“Well, I’m not twelve.” Tanner cocked his head to the side. “Christmas ain’t that interesting once you grow up.”
“What?” she gasped, eyes wide. “Christmas ain’t that interesting once you grow up?”
He shrugged.
“You’re un-American,” she accused.
Syd’s lips pursed.
Tanner looked unaffected. “Man, I just like the time off from school, and the food. That’s it.”
“But it means more than that.” Andrea shook her head and curls flew everywhere. “What about the presents?”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s what Christmas is about,” he commented.
Andrea huffed. “That is what Christmas is about. Anyone who says differently is trying to make themselves look all spiritual and shit. I keep it real.”
My gaze slid over to Syd and she looked at me, brows raised. Our eyes locked and for a moment, a sweet fucking moment, it was like it used to be. Us sitting back, listening to Andrea and Tanner annoy the living shit out of each other. We should have popcorn when those two went at it.
But then Syd cast her eyes at her glass and started fiddling with her straw, and that was a cold reminder that things weren’t normal. Syd was never this quiet, and things were never strained between us.
I couldn’t say I regretted the time with her though, because I didn’t. Hated how it ended. Looking back, there were a lot of females I’d wished I’d kept my dick in my pants with, but Syd would never be one of them.
The waiter showed up and got our drink and food order. Small talk was made, mostly on Tanner and Andrea’s end. They kept it going so there wasn’t an awkward lull in conversation, but sitting here, not talking to Syd, was wrong on so many levels.
Leaning back, I looked over at her. She tipped her chin up at the same moment and our gazes collided for another second. I sort of felt like an inept schoolboy. It was that bad. “So, your lip looks a lot better.”
She blinked. I was a dumbass.
“It healed up pretty quickly,” she said, training her gaze on her glass. “Just a little mark.”
That was good to hear. “Your jaw?”
“It doesn’t hurt at all.”
It seriously was a relief to hear that. Even drunk off my rocker, I’d been going out of my mind with worry for her.
“Your knuckles still look a little raw,” she said, causing me to look up.
Our eyes locked and held this time. “What?”
“Your knuckles,” she said in a quiet voice as she reached over to the hand I had on the table. I held my breath as she ran her fingertips over my knuckles. It was a feather-light touch, but it traveled straight through me and I jerked. She pulled her hand back, casting her gaze to the table. “Do they hurt?”
“No.” My voice sounded thick. “They don’t hurt at all, baby.”
Her lashes swept up, and her eyes darted across my face like she was looking for something, but then she looked across the table.
Andrea cleared her throat. “Did you guys hear that they’re calling for another snowstorm next week, on New Year’s Eve?”
And so that’s how the conversation went for a while. Andrea or Tanner would smooth over the tense silence with some random statement, Syd and I barely said more than an entire sentence to one another, and then the food came.
Syd had ordered a steak, but she just seemed to cut it up into tiny pieces and push it around her plate with her fork. “You’re not hungry?”
She glanced up, tucking back her hair with her free hand. “I guess I ate too much bread.”
My gaze went to the half loaf that remained and I arched a brow. “Doesn’t look like you ate that much.”
Her fingers tightened around the handle of her knife, and I wondered if she was fantasizing about stabbing me with it. “How do you know that’s not our second or third loaf?”
“It’s our first,” Andrea announced, stopping a deep conversation about the differences between the zombies from The Walking Dead and 28 Days Later.