“I’m fine, Garrett. Stop worrying about me all the time.” He pulled me into a hug and I let myself sink into him. Garrett was a physically demonstrative guy and I had always appreciated that about him. Sometimes you just needed a hug when you’re feeling like shit.

“I’ll always worry about you, Gracie. You’re my G,” he said softly as I pulled back.

“You’re my G,” I repeated.

He squeezed my arm as I walked off to find the bathroom and wash up. So much for trying to look pretty. My makeup was most likely smeared all over my face.

I tried to be as quick as possible, making sure not to look towards the stage as I rushed past. I kept my head down, eyes trained to the floor. And of course I smacked right into a very warm, very solid body. I threw my hands out to brace myself and connected with a soft, cotton shirt and rock hard abs. Rock hard abs that I remembered touching. Kissing. Licking…

“Where’s the fire?” he asked, voice tight, as though he didn’t want to be talking to me but figured he had to.

With my cheeks flaming hot I looked up into Mitch’s brown eyes and lost myself.

All over again.

“I—uh—I—uh,” I stuttered. God, I couldn’t even speak.

Mitch frowned. “Are you okay? You look a little green around the gills.”

I realized my hands were still pressed against his chest. I should probably move. I didn’t want to be accused of copping a feel.

I dropped my hands and backed away, tripping over my feet and stumbling.

Mitch peered at me closely. “What’s wrong with you, Gracie?” He sounded suspicious.

Wait.

Did he think I was drunk?

“I’m fine,” I spat out. “I haven’t been drinking if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, I wasn’t asking that—”

“Whatever,” I cut him off and made to move around him. “I was just looking for the bathroom.”

“Gracie,” Mitch said softly, but I felt it in my bones. My name sounded strained on his lips. As though it had been wrenched from him.

I stopped, but I couldn’t look at him again. I didn’t want to see the disinterest. Coming to the show was turning out to be a very bad idea.

We were alone in the darkened hallway. It was the first time we had been alone since…

“I just need to find the bathroom,” I said. Why did my voice sound so agonized?

Mitch sighed. “Why did you text me?” he asked.

I wasn’t prepared for him to just throw that out there. No warm up. No, hey, how’s it going? Couldn’t we talk about the weather first? Maybe rousing chitchat about the upcoming Super Bowl.

Compelled, I lifted my head. I shouldn’t look at him.

It was a very bad idea.

But I couldn’t help it.

I was relieved that there wasn’t an ounce of disinterest. But there was a lot of anger.

And sadness.

And confusion.

I understood each and every one of those emotions. Because I felt all of them too.

“Why Gracie? You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me. It’s been over a year! Why did you text me, damn it?”

I wanted to touch him. To reach out and smooth the edges of his mouth. But I wasn’t allowed to.

The woman who had that right was only a few yards away. Waiting for him.

“You’ve ruined everything, Gracie. Because that’s what you do! You break things apart and don’t care about the consequences. Well, you’ve broken us. And there’s no coming back from that. I won’t be around to pick up your pieces anymore. And you will have to live with throwing away the best thing you could have ever had.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the horrible memory from my mind.

He was better off.

Because he was right. I had ruined us.

It didn’t matter that I now realized how much I loved him.

He loved someone else.

Our story was over.

So I shrugged.

“I was bored. Sorry. I should have thought that one through,” I said flippantly. How was I able to speak without choking?

Mitch’s face hardened. “You were bored?”

I giggled. “You know how it goes. Maybe I should have given myself a pedicure instead.”

I wanted to cringe. I sounded so much like the old Gracie. The vacuous sorority girl whose only thoughts had to do with hairstyles and wardrobe choices.

“Don’t do that, Gracie. Just don’t,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes, truth bleeding out of me before I could stop it. “I have to.”

Mitch’s expression softened momentarily and I knew that he saw through me. He knew exactly what I was trying to do.

Pretending that I didn’t care.

He lifted his hand and reached out as though he wanted to touch me. As if he couldn’t help himself.

And I would have let him.

My god, I would have let him do anything.

But then his eyes frosted over and he lost any semblance of warmth. His hands balled into fists and he turned his back on me and started to walk away.

I dropped my head and wanted to crumble.

What’s happened to us?

“You’ll never stop, will you?”

His voice surprised me. I thought he was gone. But I glanced up to find that he had stopped just before reaching the stage. He hadn’t turned around, but his face was in profile as if he was debating whether or not he should look at me.

“What?” I asked, not understanding.