No Reverse Page 3

  five

  Oxford ~ Present.

  Cassie.

  Being lonely sucked.

  Being lonely thousands of miles away from home was gut-wrenching.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’d been pretty miserable Stateside too. When I had to escape from Steep Hill right in the middle of my senior year, that had been a serious low. But Gran was still strong enough to visit me a couple of times in Kansas City, and I lived for those moments.

  After getting off the train from London earlier that morning, I’d dropped my bags off at a YMCA. The place wasn’t central or the cozy nest where I could lick my wounds. So I was better off taking a walk and cleaning up my mind in England’s chilly air. Was this what they called “spring” here?

  I straightened the collar of my leather jacket to stop my shivering and picked up my pace. When I reached the high street, I slowed down and looked around. There was now enough distance between Josh and me. No risk of bumping into him, him or his blue-blooded fiancée.

  Shit, the thought sliced through my heart. Josh hadn’t moved on, he hadn’t just turned the page. He had opened a brand new book. And “Cassie” wasn’t in the title. My heart felt like it weighted at least a ton. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected when I came to England. I knew Josh wasn’t going to welcome me with open arms. The guy had asked for a divorce three days ago, for crying out loud, but still…

  Josh had replaced me. I knew he’d have other girls, smart, promising girls he’d meet at frat parties in college. But it was so naïve to think he wouldn’t eventually meet the girl, the one he’d want to spend the rest of his life with. That kind of left me hollow inside.

  He was now engaged, engaged to that little princess. Eleanor. What kind of name was that anyway?

  Eleanor MacBride.

  The sound made my thoughts cringe.

  I bumped against the shoulder of a very drunk teenager, apologized, and hurried away from him. The last thing I needed tonight was a boozy fight or puke on my jacket. I already had Freddie’s screwdriver soaking through my shirt.

  I turned into a cobbled alleyway. On either side of it stood ancient stone buildings, a couple of poky shops selling old-fashioned clothing. Tweed trousers and jackets, those kinds of things. The lampposts threw regular halos of light onto the sidewalk, but most of the narrow street was drowned in shadow.

  My stroll led me to a square with a grand monument in its center, all round, with a dome and large columns holding it up. It reminded me of the Capitol in D.C. Or the images I’d seen of it. I checked a sign that hung on the iron gate that surrounded it. The Radcliffe Camera. Didn’t look to me like a camera at all.

  Not bad though.

  I left the square behind to keep exploring Oxford on a Friday night. There were so many students laughing and flirting outside bustling pubs. The smell of the cigarettes under the heating lamps made me wince. I’ve always hated that smell.

  I saw a passageway. It led down between the walls, then made a turn to the right. I couldn’t see what was at the end, but lights reflected against the walls. It was like being in one of those romance books Gran used to read, set in the dark streets of Regency London. Maybe a dashing hero or two waited for me at the other end. God knew I could indulge in being a damsel in distress for once.

  I started walking down and took the turn. But, no Duke, no rogue, just another pub. A very cute one though, all small and nestled within the walls of the old city. My stomach rumbled, and I paid attention to the calling.

  There was a “Staff Wanted” sign on the door so I pushed the door now motivated by more than hunger. Inside, the space was crowded. Again, students everywhere. They all looked young and innocent. At freaking twenty-three, I felt ancient in comparison. I made my way to the bar, trying to blend in with the locals. I always hated standing out. Weird for a cheerleader–slash-singer-wannabe. But tonight, I wanted to be invisible. A stool became free and I sat down.

  The relief on my legs was welcome and my body deflated like a burst balloon. I hadn’t stopped since the moment that man had driven to Gran’s house and delivered Josh’s gift. I shut my eyes, took a lungful of air, and released it with a big puff.

  “What’ll it be, babe? We have killer Bloody Marys tonight.”

  Hmm, sexy, low, male voice. Not English.

  Eyelids up. Nice sight. On the other side of the bar. Six foot tall, barreled shoulders, chin-length, black hair.

  “I need—I need,“ I stuttered, “something to eat… and a Coke.”

  The guy’s eyebrows arched and his mouth curled up on one side. “A fellow American. What a pleasure.” He extended his hand over the counter. I shook it.

  “I’m Sam,” he offered.

  “Cassie.”

  “I’ll get you that Coke...” He handed me what must have been the menu, “… while you make your choice of food.”

  “Thank you.” I tried to pay attention to the food options, but the only one that appealed to my empty tummy was… “A rib-eye steak with fries, please. Well done.”

  A tall glass of Coke with the ice cubes floating on top landed in front of me. I was about to grab it when Sam dropped a straw into it. “Your wish is my command. Rib-eye and fries it’ll be. And, by the way, they’re called “chips” over here.” He gave me what looked like a gigantic spoon with a number painted on it.

  I didn’t know what to do with it, so I kept staring at the spoon. My reaction made Sam chuckle. “You haven’t been in the country long, have you?”

  I’d totally failed at “blending in.”

  “I landed this morning.”

  “Okay, well, here in England, you order the food at the bar, pay for it in advance, take the order number,” he waved the big spoon, “and wait at a table.”

  “Oh, okay.” I extracted my wallet from my jeans pocket, then my credit card. “Here we are.”

  “Before you pay, I need to bill you.” Sam talked to me as if I was half-witted, and it pinched my ego.

  “I’ve been waiting tables for five years full-time, so I’m familiar with the basics.” That wasn’t a bark, but close.

  Sam kept staring at me with a half-smile and ignored the girl next to me who clearly expected to be served. My body shrank under his stare. I hated being impolite, and I was about to apologize when he gave me the check. The total seemed fine so I handed him my credit card.

  “What are you doing here in England, Kitten?” This time, Sam hadn’t talked down at me. His voice was softer, as if he knew something about me I didn’t.

  “Visiting an old friend.” My words were drenched with bitterness. “The old friend didn’t really want me to visit.”

  “So you’re going back home?”

  “No! I’ll stay, but…” I’d used most of Gran’s money on the plane ticket, and I didn’t know how long it’d take to sort out that mess. I needed something to cover my expenses while I stayed in Oxford. “I saw this place was looking for staff.”

  A spark ignited in Sam’s denim-blue eyes. “The girl who works here with me had to go back to her parents. Her mother had a heart attack… In the meantime, I need someone to cover for her. She’s also my roommate.”

  “So her room is free?” Hope made my voice perky.

  “It’s unoccupied, but I’m sure she won’t mind someone moving in for a while as long as he or she chips in for her rent.”

  Well, nothing came free in life, but I wasn’t going to say “no” to a roof over my head. “How much?”

  Sam gave a figure.

  “Per month?” It wasn’t too bad.

  “Per week, Kitten. Oxford is only a bit cheaper than London. But not much.”

  Sweet Jesus… Still, my brain computed a few numbers and the total was far cheaper than staying at the YMCA.

  “I’ll take it. Thank you.” Then, pushing my luck, I added, “I’ve plenty of experience at bartending.”

  That wasn’t completely true. I’d waited tables back in Steep Hill, day in, day out, but I wasn’t sure I’d fare that well
if asked to put together fancy cocktails and stuff like that.

  “It’s pretty straightforward here. Pouring wine, tapping beer, taking food orders and taking them to tables.”

  “I can do that.”

  Sam stared at me for what felt like hours. Finally, he seemed to have made up his mind. “Be here at five p.m. tomorrow. We’ll see how you manage for the night, then you can come back to my house and drop your stuff there.”

  It sounded promising. A long chain of “thank yous” burst from my lips and Sam had to remind me that, “You’ll still need to prove yourself tomorrow night. And the job is only temporary.”

  But I didn’t intend to settle down here in Oxford. I had to get back to Kansas City. After that… It was up in the air.

  Sam extended his hand and I took it with gratitude.

  “Deal,” he said with a smile.

  “Deal. By the way, what’s the name of this place?”

  “The Turf.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Well, it didn’t really, but thanks to the Turf, and Sam, I’d have a roof over my head until I could sort the mess with Josh… and his fiancée.

  six

  Saturday night at the Turf was insane.

  And I couldn’t screw up. I needed the job. I needed the money.

  I’d been too worked up to eat anything before starting my first shift, and I ran on adrenaline alone. Peak time was winding down now, but the kitchen was still busy. The smell of grilled meat brought saliva to my mouth.

  “Cassie, the order for table eleven is ready.” That was Sam.

  The guy had made me work for my money, testing my skills, behind the bar, pouring beers, and around the pub, delivering burgers. I managed to avoid screwing up. So far.

  “Ouch!” The edge of the plate I’d grabbed from the kitchen counter was piping hot. I blew on my fingertips to soften the pain and took a napkin from the front pocket of my apron. Better. And I rushed towards table eleven.

  Sam’s stare was fixed on me so I made a point of delivering the food to my next customer, a sporty guy, with the most charming smile. Judging by where his eyes dragged, he was paying more attention to how tight my jeans fit around my butt. Enjoy! I’d made a special effort to look good tonight: my fav pair of jeans, black tank top, my hair lifted in a ponytail, and the brightest smile I could hold. It was my favorite look. Always a winner.

  I needed the job.

  “Cassandra, Oh my God!”

  My stomach plummeted, crashing into my heels.

  The greeting came from behind me. I’d heard that female voice only once before. Last night. I wished I could freeze my face to keep it from twisting into a Joker’s face. I spun around. I’d heard Eleanor, but I saw only Josh. Because my tummy couldn’t fall further, my heart followed in its tracks.

  It was like seeing him for the first time, again. He was cut differently. His hair, his clothes.

  Gone was the happy-go-lucky quarterback of six years ago.

  “It’s so nice to see you again.” Eleanor wrapped her thin arms around me—the girl was a hugger—and her perfume, all flowery, sickened me. “You left in such a hurry last night. Josh couldn’t catch up with you to ask for your details.”

  I remained numb in her arms, all too aware his eyes were on me. On me. Not her.

  When Eleanor finally released me, my gaze escaped towards Josh and bounced back. It was as though electricity pulsed back and forth between us. Every cell of my body fired up to him. I wanted to extend my hand and brush my fingertips over the edge of his jaw.

  “Ca-ssan-dra!” Without warning, I ended up crushed against the lanky body of… Freddie. “So good to see you.”

  His hands were so low on my back that they were almost on my ass. I didn’t like the guy. I wiggled out from his hug under Josh’s scrutiny. He stared at where Freddie’s paws had slipped. I could have sworn his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.

  “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Dinner. The Turf is an Oxford institution,” Freddie answered although my question had been directed at Josh. “Everyone comes here.”

  “What about you?” Eleanor kept staring back and forth between my short apron and my tight tank top. Were her lips pinched? Or was I dreaming it?

  “I’m helping out.” I wasn’t going to advertise the fact that I didn’t have a work permit. Sam had asked me to fly under the radar, so I kept details to a minimum. I owed him that much.

  “You work here?” The question burst from Josh’s mouth, his first words.

  “I need to eat,” I put some challenge into my voice when I stared back at him.

  He’d been looking at me before, but his eyes now zeroed in on me. His jaw tightened in a tell-all sign that he was getting pissed-off.

  “I assumed you were on your way back to the U.S. With what happened to your gran…”

  “What happened to your grandmother?” Eleanor chimed in, her voice full of concern.

  “She died,” I threw back, my eyes still glued to Josh.

  “I’m so sorry, Cassandra.”

  And she really sounded like it, so I turned my attention toward her. “Thank you.”

  “But then should you not go back home? When is her funeral?” she continued, as if we were old friends.

  “Four days ago. I flew out right after it.” I didn’t want to discuss Gran like that, in public, in front of people I barely knew. “You’re here to eat. I can take your order for drinks in the meantime.” I scanned the three of them, waiting for their answer.

  “A bottle of the best champagne you’ve got. My treat!” The order came from Freddie.

  “Okay.” I couldn’t help staring back at him. It was a pub, not a five-star hotel.

  “Not for me, dude.” Josh had taken a seat at the table next to the one with the sporty guy. “I’m not drinking tonight. Not with the debate tomorrow.”

  “None for me either.” Eleanor sat next to Josh, her body immediately leaning against his, her hand massaging his. “Tomorrow is a big day. And I’m so excited to see my parents.” She dropped a tender kiss on Josh’s cheek. I had to bury my hands in the pocket of my apron so that I didn’t grab the girl by the collar and throw her out the window.

  “What’s happening tomorrow?” I asked instead.

  Josh lowered his head and faked checking the menu. No answer.

  Eleanor’s eyes ping-ponged between her… fiancé and me, then filled in the blanks. “Josh has been asked to take part in a debate at the Oxford Union. He’s excelled in comparative politics this year.” There was clear pride in her voice and she beamed.

  Josh gave a half-smile, but he kept staring at the menu, making the point of ignoring me.

  Freddie was the only one paying attention to me now. “Okay, then, a pint of Guinness, please. In the meantime, I’ll use the gents.”

  I nodded and was about to turn on my heels when Eleanor called to me. “What about you joining us tomorrow?”

  I stared back at her and couldn’t help the frown between my eyes.

  “There are drinks and canapés afterwards. We can celebrate as much as we want, my parents will be hosting.”

  Ta-dah! Life was so much easier for the other half. Josh had gone a few shades paler and he glowered at Eleanor.

  “Well, I th--, I thought,” she stuttered. “It would be a great opportunity for me to know more about your life before me.” Her hand dropped on his thigh, squeezing it.

  Now, some people have said that I have an attitude problem. That’s not exactly true. Life’s slapped me in the face so many times that I’ve always kept my head held high, so I didn’t fall too low once the blows came. But this was too much.

  Josh despised me so much that his fiancée had to come to my rescue. I tried to swallow, but a lump had formed in my throat. A mini-choke burst from my mouth. The two of them stared at me.

  “I’m sorry.” My lips trembled and I fought the dampness back from my eyes. “I’ll get the Guinness. You guys can order the other drinks and foo
d at the bar. I’ll meet you there.”

  Only I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I flashed through the crowd and headed towards the side entrance. It opened into a narrow courtyard and I hunted for its darkest corner.

  seven

  My hands smelled of grease.

  I’d buried my face in them. My tear-stricken, snotty-nosed, sorry excuse for a face.

  I ran my fingers over my flushed skin to wipe the humiliation away. Coming to England, I’d expected the worst. What just happened was worse than the worst. Josh hated me. It shouldn’t matter anymore. I had come to tell him the truth not to have him fall for me all over again.

  The sound of a toilet flush pulled me out of my self-pity. The restrooms were on the other side of the tiny courtyard where I’d found refuge. How I wished I could flush this whole disaster away. Ciao, bye bye, adios!

  “I’m sorry.”

  Eeck.

  I peeped out through my fingers. Yes, Josh stood in front of me and his closeness kicked my heartbeat into a sprint.

  “You hate me, don’t you?” That was the only question I could manage, the only one whose answer mattered. At least, right then.

  Josh stared down to the tips of his shoes and shuffled his feet. The silence he left between us shredded my heart into a thousand pieces.

  “I thought I would. But I don’t.”

  My shoulders shuddered when I let out a breath of relief.

  “I want to turn the page,” he continued. “I want to look at the future and forget about all the hurt you caused me.”

  The hurt I caused him.

  The memories of that dreadful day flashed back in front of my eyes. The day I broke his heart by lying to him. Only Josh didn’t know it was a lie. It had always been a lie. But would telling the truth now make it right?

  “You can’t turn the page and pretend I never existed.” I took one step, two steps, in his direction. He didn’t move. “We’ve been in each other’s lives since we were six, and we always will be.”

  He kept his gaze glued to his shoes, but his head gave a tiny shake.