EASTON'S POV
PRESENT DAY
"What the hell are you doing here?" Rina demanded, the same scowl she'd greeted me with when I'd walked into the restaurant still etched onto her face. It was identical to the one she'd worn the last day we'd spoken all those years ago. Looking at it now still made me feel just as hollow inside.
"Uh, going back to my table?" I said, feigning nonchalance.
"That's not what I mean," she snarled, stepping towards me, so close I felt her breath on my neck. "I mean what are you doing here, at this restaurant. Did you follow me?"
"Are you crazy?" I chuckled, mildly agitated at the accusation. Though I had, in fact, watched her walk to her car earlier this afternoon, I would have never brought Hillary to this restaurant if I knew Rina would be here as well. "Believe me, if I had known you'd be here, I wouldn't have come. Now would you let me get back to my table?"
"You're lying," she spat, glaring at me.
"Damn, Rina, it's been so long, and this is really how you want to greet me? No, 'hi, hello, how have you been?'"
"I don't give a rat's ass how you've been, Easton. I want to know how you knew I'd be here."
"Rina, honestly, I had no idea you would be. Do you really think I still care enough about some girl I dated in high school to double check your location before I go out on a date?" She raised her eyebrows at me like she'd been expecting a different answer, and honestly, I was too. The words had fumbled out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. "Now, if you're done with the baseless accusations, my girlfriend is waiting," I snapped.
Obviously, the title of "girlfriend" shouldn't have been used about the tinder match I'd just met all of twenty minutes ago. But Rina had pissed me off. I knew she still hated me for what I did in high school, but that didn't give her the right to berate me in public because of it. I wanted to diminish her importance to me, regardless of if it was a lie.
"Your girlfriend can wait until you give me a straight answer. You and I both know you were following me this afternoon. So, tell me why I should believe it's a coincidence that I ran into you tonight."
"Following you?" I laughed coldly. I was taken aback slightly that she'd seen me earlier in the day, but I didn't let it show. "Though I'm sure this is news to you, the world doesn't revolve around you, sweetheart. Nobody was following you anywhere."
"I'm not your sweetheart," She snapped. "Quit lying, Easton. I saw you this afternoon. Gray suit? Black briefcase? Scowling like you want to kill someone? Don't tell me it wasn't you."
"I was walking from my office to the metro station just like I do every single day. The fact that you happened to be in the same vicinity as me on the way there does not mean I was following you."
"Just tell me the truth. Did you know I was coming back to D.C.?"
"I saw your job announcement on Facebook," I said honestly. Along with every other thing you've ever posted. "However, if you haven't noticed, I never moved away. You're in my city now and believe me, I had no intention of following you anywhere, let alone out to dinner while I'm with my girlfriend."
"Well, since you're out with your girlfriend, I'd appreciate it if you could stop shooting death glares at my boss. I'm still trying to make a good impression and getting nasty looks from the guy I hooked up with ten years ago isn't exactly helping." Hooked up with. Ha. I told her that I loved her before and after we hooked up.
"The delusions continue," I barked out in a laugh. "Listen, Rina, I'll tell you what. I'll do my best to stay out of your way from here on out if you promise not to corner me outside of any more bathrooms. In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't speak to me at all. Do we understand each other?"
"Completely understood, Clarke," she snarled, storming past me towards the lady's room. I stood silently as she slammed the door, my clenched fist resting against my mouth as I resisted the urge to punch a hole into the wall. This wasn't how I wanted tonight to go, and this certainly wasn't how I wanted my first conversation with Rina to turn out. She was still just as much of a spitfire as she'd always been, but she should have read the surprise all over my face when I'd walked past her table. I had no idea I would see her here, and I'd nearly thrown up when I had.
I walked back to where Hillary was seated, a basket of bread placed in front of her and a half-empty glass of wine in hand. "Sorry about that," I muttered. "I had an intense workout after work today and I was feeling a little nauseous."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you feel better now, or should we get the check?"
This was the out I was looking for earlier, but the interaction I'd just had with Rina made me want to stay here just to spite her. "Oh, I'm fine. I'd much rather stay here with you. You said you were originally from North Carolina?" I reached for the Manhattan that'd been placed next to my refilled glass of water and I downed half of it in one pull. Rina passed our table on the way back to hers as I did so, her shoulders tensed, and her fists clenched. I looked back up at Hillary, wondering why she hadn't spoken yet, and found her staring at me in bewilderment, her mouth agape and her eyes wide.
"Uh, yeah, North Carolina born and raised. Are you sure you're alright? You look..." she paused, staring intently at the sweat I could feel beading on my forehead. "Flushed."
"I'm fine now. What part of North Carolina?" I asked, taking another swig of my Manhattan. Unconsciously, my eyes drifted away from her face and towards Rina's table over her shoulder. Her date—who I now knew to be her new boss—was focused intently on his food and didn't notice me watching.
"Shallotte," Hillary responded slowly, her pronunciation at the end sounding more like a question than a statement. I tore my eyes back to her face just in time to see her slowly peek over her shoulder, her gaze settling firmly on Rina's table. When she turned back to me, eyebrows raised, my blood went cold. Not because I particularly cared what Hillary thought of me, but because I wanted to keep up the appearance that Hillary was my girlfriend for Rina's sake.
"So, I know we just met and all, and I am not trying to pry," she said, her Southern accent sounding especially strong, "but considering she's glaring at me like she wants to see my head on a silver platter, I'm just wondering if you might tell me who that brunette you keep exchanging scowls with might be?"
She looked at me sharply, like she was expecting me to lie to her. I had no reason to lie, though, considering I couldn't care less about making a bad impression with a woman I didn't plan on seeing again. "That's my ex-girlfriend from high school," I said honestly. I downed the rest of my Manhattan before tagging on, "We, uh, haven't seen each other in a while."
"And she followed you to the bathroom in a huff to, what? Catch up?" She asked, her hooded blue eyes fixed sharply on my face, like she was interrogating me, waiting for me to slip up.
"Something like that," I muttered flatly, reaching for a roll. I was surprised that Rina had made it so obvious she was angry. The Rina I remembered hid her emotions like an addict hid their needles.
"I assume it didn't go well considering she came back looking like somebody killed her cat," she said, unrelenting. I wished she would just drop it. The way we were looking at each other looked too much like a lover's quarrel, and I didn't want Rina to see what she'd done. I wanted her to think I was happy without her after that stunt she'd just pulled in the bathroom.
"We didn't exactly end on great terms. It was years ago, of course, but she was just...surprised to see me." Surprised was an understatement. Aghast was more applicable.
"And were you surprised to see her?"
The waitress came back before I could answer, an order of calamari in her hand. "And there you are," she said, setting the tray in the center of the table. Her pitch-black hair had been pulled up into a slick bun, showing off a tiny star tattoo on her collarbone. "Are you ready to order anything else?" She glanced at my drained Manhattan. "Another drink, perhaps?"
"Yes, I'll have another Manhattan. And Hillary, another glass of wine?" I glanced at her quickly and she nodded, her gaze never leaving my face. I turned back to my waitress, forcing another half-hearted smile. "And I think that will be all for now. I need another moment to look at the menu if you don't mind."
"Of course," she beamed at me, her tone a bit too high-pitched, like she was shocked I'd smiled at her. When I met her gaze again, she seemed to falter. "I'll have those drinks right out," she stuttered out, turning away sharply, her steps fast and off-kilter. I returned my focus to Hillary and found her staring at me with renewed interest.
"Well, you have quite the effect on women," Hillary commented, her eyes still boring into mine.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You stunned that poor waitress. She blushed all the way down to her neck when you smiled at her like that," Hillary said, her tone conversational now rather than investigatory.
"I hadn't noticed," I muttered, finally reaching for the menu.
"I assumed so. You seem...distracted," Hillary said. "And nervous. Is that because of her?"
"I can't just be nervous to go on a date with a beautiful woman?" I asked, cracking her a smile in a half-hearted attempt to dazzle her in the same way I'd apparently done to our waitress. Hillary, however, seemed impervious to my apparent effect over women.
"Oh, no, don't you try to convince me that's because of me. Just say it out right, Easton. I won't be offended. Do you want to leave?"
"No," I said abruptly, reaching for my glass of water. She was much more observant than I'd originally given her credit for—far more than could be said for me. Maybe Hera was right. I had placed Rina on too high of a pedestal. It was possible not all women were as vapid as I'd previously assumed. "I said I wanted to get to know each other over dinner, and that's what I intend on doing."
"Well, then, how about you start with telling me what exactly has you so nervous? I get you ran into your ex-girlfriend, but you said your breakup was years ago. I know I certainly wouldn't be this frazzled to be in the same room with one of the losers I'd dated in high school. So, what is it about her specifically that has you so tied up in knots?"
"She was rather, uh, important to me. I didn't handle our breakup well and to be frank, I never thought I'd be in the same room with her again. Especially not while I'm on a date with someone else."
"So, she's been staring daggers at me because she's angry that you're with somebody else?"
"No, she doesn't give a shit who I'm with, and I doubt she's staring daggers at you specifically. I think she's just glaring in my general direction, and you happen to be in her way. She, uh, can't stand me."
"Hmm, and why would she still feel so strongly about you all these years later?" She took another sip of her wine.
"I'm not sure. I hadn't expected her to be this angry still. It took me off guard."
"I can tell," she commented, her eyes flicking back up to the sweat on my forehead. "Did you get into an argument?"
"I wouldn't call it an argument so much as a pissing match," I said, my eyes drifting towards the bar. Where was the waitress with my drink? I felt like I was buzzing from the inside out, my blood rushing through my veins like an electric current. When I looked back up at Hillary, she stared at me perplexed, as if she were waiting for me to continue. Her blue eyes seemed to cut through me like a knife through butter, and for a moment I thought she might have guessed, from the sparse details I shared about Rina and my overwhelming reaction to her, that I was quite literally insane. If she did, she didn't vocalize it. She just looked at me like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Things between her and I ended badly. Very, very badly. Though I wouldn't say her hostility is unwarranted, it was still unexpected all these years later. In the heat of the moment, I wanted to diminish her importance like she'd done to me, so I used the first avenue I could think of. That just so happened to be you. I implied you were my girlfriend rather than just a tinder date."
"Oh, wow," she said, her voice amused but thankfully not annoyed. "So, what was the goal with that? Did you want to make her jealous?"
"No, I knew she'd never be jealous," I started, but stopped as the waitress approached again with our drinks. I reached for my Manhattan as soon as she set it down, taking a long, desperate pull. The waitress looked at me strangely—probably because I looked like an alcoholic—before handing Hillary her glass of wine. "Were you ready to order entrees?" She asked, her voice mousey and nervous.
Though I hadn't even glanced at the menu, I said, "I'll have the eight-ounce filet mignon, medium rare, with a side of steamed broccoli and a baked potato. Hillary?"
"Oh, uh," she paused, staring intently at the menu placed in her lap. "I'll have the butternut squash ravioli, please."
"I'll have those right out for you," the waitress nodded, spinning on her heel towards the kitchen. Hillary reached for her glass of wine, the look on her face still amused, but expectant. "As you were saying?" She prompted.
"She accused me of glaring at the man she was with—her boss, apparently—so I called you my girlfriend so she'd stop assuming I still cared about who she's with."
"And were you glaring at him?"
"No," I said, though I might have been. It was a force of habit. "It's just what I would have done before back when we were teenagers. I had issues with jealousy back then. I guess she thinks nothing has changed." I still hated the idea of her with anybody else. I'd just gotten better at hiding it. Or so I'd thought up until tonight.
"Jealousy issues how?"
"Back then, I wanted her to myself, and I didn't let anyone else near her. Even before we were together," I said. I realized I was rambling, and I knew downing one and a half drinks in only twenty minutes was messing with my head. I was being a lot more open with this total stranger than I'd ever been with anyone else, my therapist included. I wasn't quite sure if it was something about Hillary—her calm demeanor and honest eyes, maybe—or if it was the alcohol. I'd probably regret this in the morning, but right now it seemed like exactly what I needed. "Then, even when we broke up, I wouldn't let her move on. It was stupid, but I didn't want to see her with anyone else if I couldn't have her. Now, I know that I was behaving irrationally, and that's not who I am anymore. She doesn't know that, though. She still sees me as the person I was when she last saw me, and the person I was then would have done far worse than glare if I thought she was on a date."
"So, your relationship was toxic," she said, matter-of-factly, her voice void of all emotion.
"Not our relationship. It was just me. I'd been obsessed with her for months by the time she finally gave me a chance. And then I ruined it."
"How did you ruin it?" She asked, her eyes ablaze now.
"It's not something I like talking about," I said sternly.
"But it was bad enough to make her hate you still, all these years later?" She questioned. I didn't answer, choosing instead to take a long pull of my drink. Hillary, inquisitive and unwavering, prompted, "Did you cheat on her?"
"No," I scoffed. She looked taken aback for a moment, and then I realized I was being rude. "By the time she finally gave me a chance, I was so infatuated with her, I hardly even noticed that other girls existed," I explained. I still didn't, I wanted to say, but I didn't want Hillary to take that personally.
"Sounds intense," she mused, eyebrows narrowed like she was studying me. "So, if you didn't cheat, and you were that enamored with her, then what could you have possibly done to her to make her hate you so much all these years later? I'm sorry, I'm not creative enough to keep guessing."