Taming the Storm
Page 45
“Ly, you not eating those?”
I drag my eyes from Tom to see Van holding a fork over my plate, pointing at my pancakes.
“No, you can have them.” I push my plate toward him.
My phone vibrates.
What do you want, baby? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.
I hover over the screen, torn between my body’s truth and my mind’s right-thing-to-do.
I decide to go with my mind.
I want you to leave me the fuck alone.
I place my phone down, waiting for the retort.
But it never comes.
I wait for what seems like ages but nothing.
And when I look at Tom, he’s not looking at me. He’s talking to Shannon, and his cell is nowhere to be seen.
Panic scratches just beneath the surface, but I shove it away.
This is good. This is what I wanted.
Then, my cell starts to ring, frightening the crap out of me.
It’s a cell number I don’t recognize.
I hesitate for a moment and then answer, “Hello?”
“Lyla, it’s Robbi, Robbi Kraft.”
My stomach does a little somersault. “Oh, Robbi, hi.”
I glance at Tom to see if he heard me. He did.
I don’t know how I expect him to react from knowing that Robbi is on the phone—anger maybe.
But that’s not what I get.
There’s nothing at all.
No reaction.
His face is perfectly blank.
Shannon says something to him, and he looks back at her.
Feeling oddly empty but a little tingly that Robbi is calling, I get up from my seat and move away from the table. I walk over toward the exit, so I can take the call privately.
The first thing out of my mouth though is, “Um…how did you get my number?”
I hear him take in a breath.
He sounds nervous as he says, “Okay, so I know this might sound a little stalkerish, but I promise, it’s not. Okay, maybe it is a little bit. But you never called, and I have a friend…in the police. He got your number for me.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” I say around smile.
“I’m pretty sure you’re right, but if I say that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since Idaho, would that help?”
“I don’t know. That’s a pretty serious crime you’ve committed.”
“Okay, how about you agree to have dinner with me? If you still feel the same about my criminal, stalker ways, I’ll personally turn myself into the cops.”
“You mean your cop friend who broke the law with you?”
He chuckles. “The very one.”
I tap my finger against my chin. “I’m not sure if going to dinner with a criminal and stalker would be a good idea.”
He lets out a tsking noise. “Yeah, I think you might be right. Shit. I’ve screwed this up at the first hurdle.”
I giggle. “You haven’t totally screwed it up.”
“I haven’t?”
I like the hope I hear in his voice.
“How about next time we see each other, you buy me that drink you didn’t get a chance to buy me last time?”
I hear paper rustling.
Then, he says, “Five days. Pittsburgh. We’re both playing there. It’s a date.”
“I never said it was a date, Robbi,” I say, adding levity to my voice so not to sound bitchy.
“Okay, no date. Just a drink between two friends. Just promise me one thing…”
“I don’t generally make promises.”
“Can you make an exception this time for me?”
He sounds so charming, and I can’t help but say, “Okay, shoot.”
“Promise me that you won’t let anyone buy you a drink between now and Pittsburgh.”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta drink!” I laugh. “How about I promise not to let anyone who isn’t a friend buy me a drink between now and Pittsburgh?”
I can almost feel his smile down the line.
“Perfect. So, I’ll see you in five days, Lyla.”
“You’ll see me in five days.”
A smile on my face, I hang up the phone and push it into my back pocket. I start to walk back toward our table. As I lift my gaze, I meet Tom’s eyes.
And he’s looking at me in a way I’ve never seen before.
Like he’s looking through me. Distant. Almost as if he isn’t really seeing me anymore.
And I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt.
Five Days Later—Onstage at a Club, Pittsburgh
Okay. So, Tom is not avoiding me. He’s not ignoring me.
He’s being nice to me.
Which is good, right? It’s what I wanted.
Well, it should be good…but it’s not.
Because he’s been too nice. Too mother-effing nice.
Cordial. Well mannered.
Basically, not the Tom I know.
There’s been no joking. No flirting. No sex texts. No attempts at getting me alone.
Nothing.
For five freaking days.
Nothing!
And it’s driving me crazy. He’s driving me crazy. Slowly.
Every time I walk into a room and he’s in there alone, he gives me a polite smile before he gets up and walks out. Like I have the plague or something.
At first, I wondered if it was a game he was playing, trying to wear me down until I crack and give in to him.
But after day three, I realized it wasn’t a game. He really has given up on me.
I know this because on day three of Nice Tom, I saw him flirting with Ashlee, and he wasn’t doing it because he thought I was there. He wasn’t trying to bring my feelings to the surface with jealousy.
I drag my eyes from Tom to see Van holding a fork over my plate, pointing at my pancakes.
“No, you can have them.” I push my plate toward him.
My phone vibrates.
What do you want, baby? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.
I hover over the screen, torn between my body’s truth and my mind’s right-thing-to-do.
I decide to go with my mind.
I want you to leave me the fuck alone.
I place my phone down, waiting for the retort.
But it never comes.
I wait for what seems like ages but nothing.
And when I look at Tom, he’s not looking at me. He’s talking to Shannon, and his cell is nowhere to be seen.
Panic scratches just beneath the surface, but I shove it away.
This is good. This is what I wanted.
Then, my cell starts to ring, frightening the crap out of me.
It’s a cell number I don’t recognize.
I hesitate for a moment and then answer, “Hello?”
“Lyla, it’s Robbi, Robbi Kraft.”
My stomach does a little somersault. “Oh, Robbi, hi.”
I glance at Tom to see if he heard me. He did.
I don’t know how I expect him to react from knowing that Robbi is on the phone—anger maybe.
But that’s not what I get.
There’s nothing at all.
No reaction.
His face is perfectly blank.
Shannon says something to him, and he looks back at her.
Feeling oddly empty but a little tingly that Robbi is calling, I get up from my seat and move away from the table. I walk over toward the exit, so I can take the call privately.
The first thing out of my mouth though is, “Um…how did you get my number?”
I hear him take in a breath.
He sounds nervous as he says, “Okay, so I know this might sound a little stalkerish, but I promise, it’s not. Okay, maybe it is a little bit. But you never called, and I have a friend…in the police. He got your number for me.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” I say around smile.
“I’m pretty sure you’re right, but if I say that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since Idaho, would that help?”
“I don’t know. That’s a pretty serious crime you’ve committed.”
“Okay, how about you agree to have dinner with me? If you still feel the same about my criminal, stalker ways, I’ll personally turn myself into the cops.”
“You mean your cop friend who broke the law with you?”
He chuckles. “The very one.”
I tap my finger against my chin. “I’m not sure if going to dinner with a criminal and stalker would be a good idea.”
He lets out a tsking noise. “Yeah, I think you might be right. Shit. I’ve screwed this up at the first hurdle.”
I giggle. “You haven’t totally screwed it up.”
“I haven’t?”
I like the hope I hear in his voice.
“How about next time we see each other, you buy me that drink you didn’t get a chance to buy me last time?”
I hear paper rustling.
Then, he says, “Five days. Pittsburgh. We’re both playing there. It’s a date.”
“I never said it was a date, Robbi,” I say, adding levity to my voice so not to sound bitchy.
“Okay, no date. Just a drink between two friends. Just promise me one thing…”
“I don’t generally make promises.”
“Can you make an exception this time for me?”
He sounds so charming, and I can’t help but say, “Okay, shoot.”
“Promise me that you won’t let anyone buy you a drink between now and Pittsburgh.”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta drink!” I laugh. “How about I promise not to let anyone who isn’t a friend buy me a drink between now and Pittsburgh?”
I can almost feel his smile down the line.
“Perfect. So, I’ll see you in five days, Lyla.”
“You’ll see me in five days.”
A smile on my face, I hang up the phone and push it into my back pocket. I start to walk back toward our table. As I lift my gaze, I meet Tom’s eyes.
And he’s looking at me in a way I’ve never seen before.
Like he’s looking through me. Distant. Almost as if he isn’t really seeing me anymore.
And I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt.
Five Days Later—Onstage at a Club, Pittsburgh
Okay. So, Tom is not avoiding me. He’s not ignoring me.
He’s being nice to me.
Which is good, right? It’s what I wanted.
Well, it should be good…but it’s not.
Because he’s been too nice. Too mother-effing nice.
Cordial. Well mannered.
Basically, not the Tom I know.
There’s been no joking. No flirting. No sex texts. No attempts at getting me alone.
Nothing.
For five freaking days.
Nothing!
And it’s driving me crazy. He’s driving me crazy. Slowly.
Every time I walk into a room and he’s in there alone, he gives me a polite smile before he gets up and walks out. Like I have the plague or something.
At first, I wondered if it was a game he was playing, trying to wear me down until I crack and give in to him.
But after day three, I realized it wasn’t a game. He really has given up on me.
I know this because on day three of Nice Tom, I saw him flirting with Ashlee, and he wasn’t doing it because he thought I was there. He wasn’t trying to bring my feelings to the surface with jealousy.
