Desperate Chances
Page 32

“Mitch, can we go now? I’m really tired,” Sophie complained, pulling on his arm. Our eye contact was instantly severed and the connection dwindled into nothing. I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing.
“You want to leave already? We just got here,” Mitch said, sounding annoyed.
“Please, Mitch. I have a headache. You know I’m not feeling that great. We can go back to the hotel room and—” Sophie looked toward me and I swear I saw her smirk. “ You know,” she giggled and I had to look away.
“I think I’m going to go see if it’s safe to enter the bathroom yet,” I told Riley. I didn’t wait for her to respond before I started pushing my way through the crowd. There was a line for the restroom when I got there, but I was glad to see that the porn show was over.
I took my time and when I finally emerged I felt a little better. I didn’t want to spend my weekend mooning over Mitch. I wanted to hang out with my friends. I wanted to dance. I wanted to remember what it was like to not give a shit about anything.
Mitch was leaning against the wall as I left and I hoped I could pass him without being noticed.
He looked up as I moved down the small corridor and I lifted my hand in an awkward wave.
Should I stop? Should I keep going? Should I say hey and leave it at that?
“Is this the place to hang out then?” I asked him, figuring humor could alleviate some of the tension.
Mitch barely looked at me. “I’m waiting for Sophie. She wanted to wash her hands again,” he replied shortly.
“So you’re heading out?” I asked him and he nodded curtly. Why was I bothering? It was obvious he didn’t want to speak to me. And that pissed me off. I was trying to be civil and he wasn’t making it easy.
“Well god forbid you stay and have a good time,” I snipped.
Mitch’s eyes flashed in the darkened hallway and he finally looked at me. “Yeah, because you seem to be having a great time,” he shot back.
I let out an angry sigh and crossed my arms over my chest. “Is this how it’s always going to be?” I demanded, finally at the end of my rope.
Mitch’s face contorted as though he were in pain before it smoothed out into a neutral expression. “Looks like it,” he muttered, looking purposefully past me.
“You don’t think you’ve punished me enough?” I asked, wishing my voice didn’t sound so small. Mitch’s eyes widened slightly, but he still wouldn’t look at me. But damn it, he was going to listen. There were a lot of things I needed to say and I was finally going to say them. I didn’t care if we were standing in a crowded hallway at a shitty nightclub. It was now or never.
“I get that I hurt you. I know I acted like a total bitch.” Mitch snorted but continued to stare over my shoulder. I kept going. “But the silent treatment has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”
Mitch frowned and glanced at me, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment,” he argued.
“Is that why you won’t look at me when I’m in the room?” I asked.
Mitch huffed under his breath. “I didn’t think you’d even notice. Considering how little my opinion has ever mattered to you.”
I startled at his admission. “Is that what you think? That what you think, what you feel, doesn’t matter to me?” I took a tentative step towards him. I couldn’t help it. We were standing close together, but I felt compelled to be closer. Mitch watched me warily.
“I think you made that abundantly clear, Gracie.”
My heart hurt at his words. I hated that he believed that. “That’s not true, Mitch. Not at all,” I murmured. Something ignited between us. His eyes dropped to my mouth and he licked his lips. I buzzed inside.
He wanted to touch me. I could see it in his eyes. They burned with a fire that he couldn’t put out. No matter how hard he tried. I had never felt more power. Or more sexy.
Mitch made me feel alive.
He made me feel wanted.
But more importantly he made me feel as though this could be a beginning.
I took another step forward and I lifted my hand as if to touch him. If he wouldn’t bridge the gap then I would. I’d take the first step.
Almost there…
Mitch shook his head, stopping me. “Don’t, Gracie. Just don’t.” His voice was hard and unyielding. I dropped my hand and stepped back.
“I just wanted—”
“I know what you want,” he remarked angrily, dragging his hand through his hair. He was upset. I had upset him. Again.
“I just don’t want us to be enemies anymore. I don’t want you to hate me.” My voice cracked and I felt like a total jerk.
Mitch closed his eyes, his brow furrowed. He ran his hand down his face and let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t hate you, Gracie. That’s the fucking problem.”
Oh.
“Mitch—” I started to say, but he interrupted me with a short bark of laughter.
“You think you can stand here, looking like every dream I’ve ever had, giving me the words I’ve wanted to hear and I’ll just what? Go back to being your best buddy? That we can go back to late night phone calls and braiding each other’s hair?”
“I know we can’t go back, Mitch. I’m not expecting that!” I protested, my voice rising.
“Good!” he shouted and several people turned to look at us. I didn’t care that we were starting to make a scene.