I Hated You First by Rachel John

Lauren

 

 

The rest of the work week had me on pins and needles, but Dad was leaving for the convention in Las Vegas, and that’s where his focus was. He didn’t talk to me or Parker about ownership issues, and as far as I could tell, he didn’t talk to Clay much either. We sold off several key pieces of equipment just in time, and I left work on Friday afternoon so ready for the weekend. I had a date to get ready for, and punctuality was key. Whatever Clay might say about it, I liked a guy who was straight-forward and asked for what he wanted. Clay just didn’t like it because he didn’t see the value in it.

Jenny was off visiting with a college friend who had flown in for the weekend, so I got ready by myself, keeping an eye on the clock. I decided to go with a floral sundress with ruffles on the straps and cute red buttons down the front. I wasn’t much of a dress girl, and I hated that it was Clay I thought about when I looked in the mirror, hoping I looked okay.

After grabbing my cute matching purse and checking its contents, I locked up and drove to the restaurant where we were meeting, following the GPS directions. I pulled into a parking spot ten minutes early, and peering around, spotted Clay’s truck in the row behind me. He was early, too.

I stayed in my truck with the air conditioning blowing over me, not surprised when Clay tapped on the passenger window a minute later. I unlocked the door and he hopped in.

“Hey,” I said. There was still that weird tension between us, left over from work and our last real conversation together.

“Hey, yourself. You look nice.” He looked me over, and I appreciated his notice in a totally different way than I had when Denver used to smile at me like that. I felt Clay’s gaze all the way to the center of me. His admiration was not for show. It was not an act. It was solely about me and for me, and it filled me up more than any pretty words could ever do.

“Who ended up as your date?” I asked, needing to break eye contact with him. I rested my arms on the steering wheel and watched a couple walk inside the restaurant.

“About that.” Clay groaned. “You will owe me for this until the end of time. Parker laughed when I told him. Like, leaned over holding his stomach, and just about died, he was so tickled. It turns out Melissa’s friend of a friend of a friend is Denise Perkins. Do you remember her? My grade in high school?”

“No. What’s wrong with her?” I felt suddenly protective of this unwanted date of his.

“She was slightly obsessed with me back in the day.”

“Relax. I’m sure she barely remembers you now.”

Clay huffed out a laugh. “Of course you’d say that. It’s impossible for you to imagine anyone would ever find me worth remembering. So, where’s your date? Mr. Punctual?”

I glanced at the clock. “He’s still got four minutes.” To some people, being punctual meant neither early nor late. I had a feeling Noble would show up right on time.

Clay scooted closer, and I gave him the side eye. With a bench seat and no console in the middle, my truck was perfect for getting nice and cozy, but now was not the time or place, and we were definitely not the right people. I was not imagining otherwise. Okay, I was banishing that thought immediately. Well, I was working on banishing it.

I put my palms down on the seat between us before he could move in closer and glared at him. “What are you doing?” 

“We should have code words for when this date goes south.” He whispered it like we were spies and the truck might be bugged.

“If this date goes south,” I corrected.

“Semantics.” Clay placed his palms over mine, sending all sorts of signals to my brain. I liked the way it felt, but he couldn’t know that. Ever. We’d become the combative friends we were always meant to be. Anything more was a dangerous fantasy on my part.

I cleared my throat. “So, when I’m right and Denise barely remembers you, I’ll say, ‘She’s just as beautiful as you said, Clay.’”

“And when Noble shows up late after he asked you to be punctual, I’ll say, ‘Time is money. Let’s go in.’”

“What if we’re both wrong?” I looked down at our hands, willing him to lift his first, because if I did, it would draw attention to the fact that I was affected by his touch.

“If you’re wrong about Denise, I’ll need a real code. Something that means ‘help me.’ So, when I say, ‘I could really go for some artichoke dip,’ you have to get us out of there. For reals, Lauren.”

He was serious, and it made me want to laugh. He was totally terrified of his date. She must have been scary in high school, poor girl.

“Promise me.”

“Fine, I promise. But then we’re even forever and I don’t owe you any more favors.”

He lifted his hands and put up a pinkie. I linked mine with his. And we swore on emergency plans and never owing favors.

A knock sounded on the passenger window, startling us. It was Noble, right on time. Surprise, surprise. I’d described my truck to him, and he knew what I looked like because Melissa had shared a picture of me.

I jumped out the driver door and walked around to say hello. Noble gave me the firmest handshake I’d ever received, and that was saying something, considering I worked with mechanics and construction guys.

Then he shook Clay’s hand, and between the two of them, it was practically an arm wrestling match. Just what we needed here, an unspoken rivalry within three seconds of meeting each other.

“Where’s your date?” Noble asked Clay, looking around.

“She should be here soon.”

“Call her and let her know she can join us inside. I made a reservation, but I’d hate for them to give our table away.” Noble gestured for me to go ahead of him, then fell in step beside me towards the entrance. He was holding a buzzer from the restaurant, so I wasn’t sure what his concern was. Obviously, he’d already gone inside and informed them we were here.

“Time is money,” Clay said cheerfully from behind us.

I glanced back and rolled my eyes at him. Clay had not pulled out his phone to call his date as Noble directed, and I doubted it was just because he didn’t like taking orders from a bossy stranger. I had a feeling Clay didn’t care whether his date showed up or not. He seemed perfectly happy to remain the third wheel, even making polite conversation with Noble while we all stood together in the foyer. Well, an outsider would consider the conversation polite. I knew what Clay was really doing—asking Noble open-ended questions in hopes he would further reveal his forceful personality. I wish I could say it wasn’t working.

I tried to cut in when Noble took a breath between comments about his political volunteer work, but Noble actually put his pointer finger up in front of my face and continued on for another three minutes before waving out his hand as if giving me permission to proceed.

“What were you going to ask?” he prompted.

I shook my head. “I don’t remember.” The stupid buzzer in his hand was lifeless. What was the point of a reservation if we had to wait just as long as the rest of the people packed in here like sardines?

Noble said he picked the place because it wasn’t loud, and if we were comparing it to a joint with peanuts on the floor and line-dancing waiters, that would be true.

A large group came through the double doors. Clay moved closer to us to make room for them, his chest brushing against mine and our fingers touching briefly before he moved sideways past me to the wall. Noble had done something similar minutes ago, and the effect it had on me was night-and-day different.

Chemistry was a funny thing. I truly believed you could create chemistry with a person if you both wanted it. You could choose love. You could build it. None of this falling out of love business. But I didn’t particularly like Noble so far, and so had no desire to create anything with him except a lot of distance after this date.

And speaking of wanting to create distance, I knew the moment Denise Perkins walked in because Clay hunkered down against the wall until I was completely blocking him. It didn’t matter. She ran straight for him and wrapped him in a hug.

“Clay, I can’t even tell you how much fate had a hand in this. I’ve been thinking about tracking you down for years. And now here we are.” Her large, liquid eyes sparkled with a fervor that probably would have scared me even without Clay’s warnings.

When the length of their hug reached awkward territory, he managed to wriggle free from her and turned to introduce us.

Noble gave her one of his bone-crushing handshakes, and I gave her a little wave before immediately complimenting her on her blouse. It was the first thing that came to mind because the bright tangerine color would be burned on my retinas for days to come.

“Oh, this thing?” She looked down and smiled. “I actually ordered it off of Facebook. Those ads get me every time.”

I’d ordered several hit-and-miss items off Facebook ads myself, so while we continued to wait, I kept the conversation going about that. Denise was fun to talk to, and I almost forgot why I thought she was weird until she gazed at Clay again and sighed. “You’re so handsome. I want a picture of us together before we leave tonight. Why aren’t you on social media? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Clay threaded his fingers together. “I don’t know. I just don’t like social media.”

“Well, I don’t want to lose touch again. Promise you’ll call me after tonight.”

Clay looked torn. I knew he didn’t want to promise something he had no intention of doing, but the truth might hurt just as much.

Thankfully, the buzzer in Noble’s hands started hopping, and that was enough of a distraction for Denise to let it go.

Following the hostess, Noble and I slid into one side of a booth, and Clay and Denise sat on the other. She cozied up next to him and wrapped her hand around his upper arm. “Muscles,” she murmured, giggling to herself.

I picked up my menu and studied it, looking for something inexpensive, knowing the discussion over the bill would be less awkward the less I spent.

“What’s good here?” I asked Noble.

“Everything. I especially enjoy the clams Italiano and the prawns alla busara.”

“Mmm.” I was not adventurous when it came to seafood. Maybe it was because I’d been landlocked my whole life, but I wasn’t about to dip my toe in tonight. I’d stick with the Italian staples I was familiar with.

I asked for water when the waitress came to take our drink orders and avoided the knowing look Clay threw my way when everyone else got fountain drinks.

Noble ordered a calamari appetizer for us, and then instructed the waitress to split the check into four equal parts. She nodded and left before the rest of us could react, probably eager to get to her other tables.

Denise looked confused, “Wait, should I…?”

Clay touched her hand. “I’m paying for your dinner. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Denise melted into him. “Thank you. It would be okay if you didn’t, I just wasn’t expecting—”

“Lauren and I talked about it beforehand,” Noble cut in. “We had planned to split the bill. I thought you would have told them that, Lauren. I thought that’s what we agreed on.”

I opened my menu again, taking a deep breath. He was berating me? Seriously? And why did we have to have this discussion at the beginning of dinner and not at the end? My stomach was in knots as it was. If it was just the two of us, Noble and I, this would be the part where I faked an emergency and left, but that wasn’t an option with others involved.

“Lauren told me,” Clay said, an edge to his voice. “I just didn’t agree with it. Sometimes we have to compromise on things.”

Noble gave a curt nod. “Okay, that’s fair. I’m sorry. What’s everyone ordering?”

“The cheese ravioli,” I said, closing my menu.

“Not the clams italiano or the prawns alla busara?” Noble seemed offended that I’d ignored his suggestions.

“I think I’ll have the ravioli, too,” Clay announced.

“Me, too.” Denise smiled at me. I wasn’t sure if it was a show of solidarity on her part or an attempt to not be left out, but either way, somehow this had become the three of us against my date.

The next hour was the longest ever. Noble sulked while he ate his seafood, Clay played an unsuccessful game of “try to keep Denise’s hands off of me,” and I doodled on the white paper table covering with a pen from my purse while nibbling on bites of ravioli. Clay excused himself at one point, and I knew he went and paid for all of us because I watched to make sure he wasn’t escaping and leaving me there.

His eyes met mine when he returned, and they held a question. When? When could we get out of there? That’s what both of us were thinking. Denise was almost finished, and the two of us watched and waited. Noble didn’t seem to be in any hurry either. If I left Clay with Denise and Noble, he’d never let me live it down, and I felt the same way about him leaving me. We were stuck in this stupid restaurant standoff.

“Well, this has been a lovely night. Is everyone ready?” Clay finally asked. He put his napkin down. “Denise, let me walk you to your car.”

“What about the bill?” Noble asked, peering over my head for the waitress.

“I took care of it,” Clay said. “You ladies ready?”

I nodded. “Thank you for the date, Noble. Nice to meet you.” I took the arm Clay offered and walked off, not caring what Noble’s reaction was. Denise, on Clay’s other arm, shivered like an excited puppy. She leaned toward me. “Oh, you poor thing, Lauren. I wish there were two Clays. He’s just the perfect date.”

I could feel Clay’s tension through his shirt. How was he supposed to shut down such sweetness, however misguided?

“You two have a good night,” I said, once outside. I let go of Clay’s arm and walked towards my truck. He could wriggle out of her goodnight kiss on his own.

“Lauren Harwood, you come back here right now.”

I stopped and looked back at him. His face held enough shock that I was pretty sure he didn’t know where he was going with his outburst yet. Panic. He was running on pure panic. This ought to be good.

“You don’t have to hide your disappointment in your date tonight. I saw the tears you were holding in. Let it out, girl.”

He held out his free arm.

Denise, on his other side, looked concerned. “I think she’s okay.”

“Nope. I know Lauren. She holds these things in until they give her cramps. Debilitating cramps. I should drive her truck home just to make sure. She eats artichoke dip when she gets sad, and then turns into a bad friend who doesn’t keep her promises.”

“Um, okay.” Denise pulled her keys out of her purse. “I’m sorry about the cramps, Lauren. Call me later, Clay.”

He nodded. “I will.”

After Denise got in her car and drove off, I came back over and socked him lightly in the stomach. “Why’d you tell her you’d call her? That’s mean.”

“I will call. And I’ll tell her I’m in a relationship with someone else.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m in a friendship relationship with you. It’s an exclusive friendship relationship.”

“Whatever. Cramps?”

“You gave me no choice.” He glanced behind us and motioned for me to follow him. “Noble’s coming out,” he mouthed.

Yeah, I did not want to have a second farewell with that guy, so I ducked behind the Suburban next to us with Clay until Noble got into his car and drove off.