Finally My Happy Ending (Meant for Me Book 3) (8 page)

"I might have bought you something," I blurted. I regretted it the instant it came out of my mouth.

"Oh yeah?" he said. "Why'd you do that?"

I shrugged. "It's nothing, really. I was probably going to bring it back to the store without even giving it to you. It's sort of silly. I just got it because I felt bad about the other night. It's not a big deal. I shouldn't have even told you about it."

"Now it's too late," he said. "You have to give it to me now that I know about it."

Chapter 12

I glanced to my left just in time to see Chelsea approaching. Brock and I had only been standing there talking for a minute, and she was already busting us.

"Here's Chelsea," I mumbled before she arrived. She was a beautiful girl, and I felt annoyed as I watched her approach wearing a bright smile.

"Hey, I was gonna grab something to drink," she said, looking at Brock. "Do you want anything?"

"No thanks," he said. "I'm gonna step outside with Trish for a minute. I have to grab something out of her car. I'll come back to the table when we're done."

Her expression shifted to one of surprise. "Oh, okay," she said. She looked at me as if it was the first time she noticed I was standing there, and then she looked back at Brock. "I'll see you in a minute."

The front door was close by, and I followed Brock to it feeling a bit like I was in a dream.

"What are you going to grab out of my car?" I asked.

"That thing you bought me, remember?"

He held the door open for me to walk out, and I stepped out into the brisk night. We began walking slowly towards the end of the building.

"I don't have it with me," I said. "And I didn't even drive my car. I rode with Ryan."

"Who's Ryan?"

"You know my roommate, Ryan," I said. "You guys met before."

"You came here with him?"

"I go just about everywhere with him," I said.

He didn't say anything else, and we slowed to a stop as we approached the edge of the building. He leaned against the wall and turned to face me. I hugged myself and began running my hands up and down my upper arms in an attempt to warm up.

"I'm sorry for dragging you out here," he said. "I just wanted some fresh air."

"Are you still having problems with crowds or whatever?"

"Not too bad," he said. "I have my moments, but they're manageable."

"Are you having fun with Chelsea?" I wasn't sure why I asked it. I guess I wanted him to say he was having a terrible time.

He shrugged. "She's a nice girl."

"Pretty too," I added, like the big dork I was. I wanted to make it seem like I didn't care, and that was probably totally obvious. I had to change the subject. I held my hand out proudly so he could notice that I was wearing my grandmother's ring.

"It looks good," he said.

"It's better than it was before I lost it. I think whomever had it got it cleaned and sized. It fits me better now."

"That's a bonus I guess."

I absentmindedly rubbed my arms again, trying to warm up. Before I knew what was happening, Brock reached both hands out to rub them for me. His objective was only to rub my arms, but I misunderstood and thought he was pulling me in for a hug. I stepped close to him, but sort of stumbled when I realized I had been mistaken about his intentions.

I played it off by looking up at him with a smile. I had on heels, and he was still taller than me. I was in close proximity to his face, and gazed helplessly at it. He had dark stubble on his cheeks and jaw and above his upper lip. I couldn't stop staring at him.

"You trying to hug me?" he asked.

I giggled. "No, I thought you were trying to hug me."

"I would if I didn't think you hated me."

I playfully scowled at him through narrowed eyes as I made 'humph' in frustration. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

He smiled. "I'm just messing with you. I don't think you hate me."

"Good, because I don't."

Our eyes locked. His seemed as black as midnight, and I stared into the depths of them.

"You don't?" he asked.

What was the question? Oh yeah, do I hate him.
"No, I don't," I said " Not even a little bit."

I knew it was the wrong thing to do, but I couldn't stop myself from reaching out to touch his face. I put my hand right on his cheek with my fingertips extending toward the cut on his eyebrow. And, of course, Shane Rollins walked out the door the moment I did it and caught me in the act. I pulled my hand off of his face like it was a hot stove and stepped backward.

"Oh, hey, Trish. I didn't know you guys were…" Shane trailed off and looked at Brock. "Chelsea said you looked a little pale when you came out here, so I thought I'd come check on you." Shane stared back and forth between us, and I could tell he was genuinely trying to make sure his brother was okay—like he thought I might've been checking Brock's temperature or something. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Brock insisted. "Do I look pale to you?"

Shane threw a hand in the air. "I can't really see you from here."

"I'm fine," Brock repeated. "We're fine. I'll be back in a minute."

Shane retreated into the building without another word leaving Brock and I standing there. I smiled at him with wide eyes, and he stared back at me with furrowed eyebrows and an annoyed expression. "Do I look pale to you?"

"No," I said, laughing.

He sighed. "I guess we should get back inside."

"Yep," I said. "I'm freezing."

"You know you're still not off the hook with giving me that thing you bought."

"Yeah, but the thing is, now it's built up too much. You're going to have it in your head that it's something great, and it's just an itty bitty, insignificant thing I picked up."

"I don't have anything built up," he said. "I just want what's rightfully mine."

I laughed, and we started walking toward the entrance.

"Hey Trish," he said from behind me before we reached the door.

I stopped walking and turned to face him with a smile. "Huh?" I could barely even get the noise out of my throat because Brock walked into me. Without hesitation, or even asking permission, he ducked and placed a quick kiss right on my lips. My gut clinched and my knees went instantly weak, but I didn't even have time to appreciate the sensation because it was over as quickly as it happened. As soon as his soft lips touched mine, they were gone again, and just like that, he was ushering me back into the building.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you don't hate me," he said as he reached out for the door.

A blast of music hit us as soon as the door opened.
That was not enough time! I needed more time with him! Why did we have to go back inside so quickly? What was I supposed to do now—act like that never happened?

"There you are!" I heard. I turned to find Ryan standing by the front door. "I got worried about you," he said.

"We just stepped outside for a second," I said, motioning to Brock. Ryan and Brock nodded at each other with a lift of the chin the way you guys do before shaking hands.

"It was good seeing you, Trish," Brock said.

"You too," I returned. "I'll text you about dropping off that thing."

He smiled but didn't say anything else.

"What are you dropping off?" Ryan asked on our way back to the table.

Couldn't I get a few seconds privacy with Brock without everyone needing to know what we were doing or what we were talking about?

"I got him a gift for getting my ring back," I said.

He thankfully didn't ask anymore about it. We sat at our table and watched the rest of the concert, which would have been completely amazing had I not been preoccupied with thoughts of Brock the whole time.

I couldn't get him out of my head. His face, his voice, his kiss—everything about him replayed in my head like a song stuck on repeat. I pictured that night at the shop when he answered the door without a shirt, and then I pictured the way we looked into each other's eyes, and the way he kissed me just now and said he was glad I didn't hate him. I was never like this with guys. I hadn't even been this crazy about his brother, and he was my boyfriend for crying out loud.

It was making me antsy wondering what he was doing on the other side of the room with Chelsea. By the time the concert was over, I had myself believing everything that happened outside was a dream, and Brock Rollins was on the other side of the room making out with Chelsea and living happily ever after with her. We saw them at the door on the way out, and it made me extremely happy to find that they weren't making any physical contact whatsoever. I tried my best not to look in their direction, but a few stolen glances were unavoidable.

My roommates and I congratulated Micah and his band on a great job and told them we enjoyed the show. Everyone else was trying to do the same thing, so we made it brief and headed towards the car.

Ryan, Isaac, and Annie decided to go out since it was still relatively early. They wanted to go dancing and assumed I would go along for the ride. I originally said I'd pass, but I changed my mind since they begged, and I didn't want to end up home alone daydreaming about Brock. Isaac knew of a good DJ playing at a place called Soar, and the three of them decided, with no input from me, that we would go there. We went to the club without even going home first.

Then I had an idea. It was probably the most middle school idea I had since, well, middle school, but somehow it seemed like the right thing to do. I got out my phone, found Brock's contact information, and composed a text.

Me: "Hey chica, we just left that concert and we're headed to Soar for a little dancing. You and Jason should come meet us."

The plan was to
accidently
send a text that was meant for my friend Rachel to Brock in hopes that he would take the bait. I stared at my phone for several long seconds before I sent it, knowing how ridiculous the whole plan was, but I was desperate. I couldn’t get him off my mind, and I had to at least make an attempt at seeing him again—especially since we were both dressed to go out.

I sat there with my finger hovering over the send button for a full minute. I knew it was a dorky thing to do, but I had to reach out to him, and anything else would be obvious. I pressed send, feeling on the inside like I wanted to let out a big girly squeal which I couldn't do since I was in the vehicle with my roommates.

I broke out in a cold sweat and my heart started racing the second I sent it. I shoved my phone back into my purse and proceeded to chat away nervously with my roommates. I let a few minutes pass before I reached in my purse to check my phone.

There was a text from Brock, and I stared at it with a huge grin on my face.

Brock: "You got the wrong number, but I think you might have done it on purpose."

My smile faded and blood rose to my face as I read it.
Was he seriously calling me out?
My heart felt like it might beat right out of my chest. I reached out and adjusted the air conditioner vents so it would blow on my face, but all that came out was hot air. I began adjusting the dials to make cold air come out.

"What are you doing?" Ryan asked, glancing over the console at me.

"I'm hot," I said.

"It's like forty degrees outside," he said, with an
are you insane
expression.

I cracked the window and held my face up to it, letting the rush of cold air hit me.

"What's wrong with you?" Annie asked from the back seat. "It's freezing out there. Roll that up."

"I had a heat flash," I said.

"What are you, menopausal or something?" Ryan teased. He glanced at me, and I stuck my tongue out at him. I took a few deep breaths before rolling the window up.

I stared at my phone wondering how I should respond. As I was looking at it, another text came in from Brock.

Brock: "Was that an invitation to meet you out?"

I wanted to deny that it was meant for him, but if I did, he would think I didn't want him to come.

"Middle school!" I said out loud even though I didn't mean to.

"What about it?" Ryan asked.

I sighed and shook my head, not answering his question.

"You're so weird," he said, smiling as he drove.

I stared at my phone again.

Me: "I'm headed to Soar now. I'll be there for a couple of hours."

I pressed send on the text, knowing it neither confirmed nor denied that it was an invitation. I threw the phone in my purse again. I was so mad at myself for being a big dork who sent fake texts.
Why couldn't I have just sent him a real text and invited him to come? Why I couldn't I just come out with the truth and say I wanted to see him? Because he was on a date with Chelsea, that's why.
He might still be with her for all I knew.

I made a conscious decision to put Brock Rollins out of my mind. It was a good night. I had just been to a great show and was about to put my dancing shoes on for one of the best DJ's in town. I had made it just fine all these years without giving Brock Rollins a second thought, so why should I start tonight?