Read Online The Girl I Was Before by Ginger Scott - Free Book Online
Authors: Ginger Scott
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the other side so she can hear clearly. After a few seconds, her eyes close. She shuts the phone, and hands it back to him, shoving it at his chest, then turns to walk away. Her eyes catch me as she passes. For a split second, I think she’s telepathically apologizing for all of this.
“Hey!” Carson yells. I don’t turn to him, instead keeping my eyes on her. She downs the rest of her drink and hands her glass back to the girl standing next to her, then adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder, never acknowledging the shouts coming from the guy who thinks he owns her.
“I said hey ! ” he shouts again, and I can tell by the tone in his voice that he’s embarrassed that she’s ignoring him. Paige is incredibly calm, smoothing out the back of her dress, pulling it lower on her legs, careful to make sure she’s still covered. She may be hot, but she’s also a lady. I think that’s what I notice most. She whispers something to the girl standing by her, then takes a few steps toward the bar, toward the exit. “Hey, you stupid bitch!”
That one gets her. It gets me too, and I flex my raw fingers, testing the burn of my knuckles, readying my arm to let this guy feel something that will stick with him well into tomorrow. I don’t take my eyes away from Paige though. She stops on her heels and turns slowly, brushing her long, blond curls from her shoulders and raising one brow at him in question as she meets his eyes.
“Who the hell was that? Who did you call? And where the hell do you think you’re going?” His intoxication is picking up steam, his words linking together to form new words. Paige leaves her eyes on him for several long seconds, and the hallway around us grows quiet, waiting for whatever she could possibly say to this insensitive asswipe. I’m pretty sure we’re all rooting for her to make him look like a fool.
“That—” she lowers her eyes to his phone, still clutched in his hands, “is my problem, and has nothing to do with you. And as for where I’m going, I’m going home.”
“You can’t just…what…leave? Fuck that, you owe me some answers. Who the fuck is this guy? And what the hell’s going on between you two?” Carson asks, still trying to show his control, as if he ever had it.
Paige starts laughing before he even finishes speaking, and by the time he’s done, she’s laughing out loud, her shoulders rising and falling, her arms once again crossed in front of her body—everything about her is calm.
“This guy?” She points at me with her thumb, barely unfolding her arms. “He’s the one who told me I could do better,” she says, and my eyebrows raise a little, feeling the spotlight of, well, everyone. “And ya know what? He’s right.”
She turns around fast. She’s moving through the hallway quickly, people stepping out of her way, drunk faces stunned and impressed. She doesn’t even pause when she passes the high-back chair she was sitting at, snagging the jacket from the chair back, and pulling it around her body while she takes these long, powerful steps. I’m so damned impressed, my feet don’t work, and even though I want to run after her to give her a high five, maybe throw her up on my shoulder and parade her around the room, rubbing more salt in Carson’s wound, I don’t—because I’m stunned.
When I finally wake up from my trance, I don’t move after her because Carson has now knocked my ass to the floor. I’m able to get with it quickly enough to anticipate his foot coming at me. I grab and twist it, sending him into the wall, a small chunk of drywall chipping away with the impact his shoulder has against it.
He doesn’t bother with words, instead using his last pieces of sobriety to claw and swing at me wildly, grabbing at the collar of my shirt and doing his best to land a punch. But I’m filled with adrenaline now—and while he’s been drinking pints, I’ve had nothing but caffeine. I get to my feet quickly, and after four
“Hey!” Carson yells. I don’t turn to him, instead keeping my eyes on her. She downs the rest of her drink and hands her glass back to the girl standing next to her, then adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder, never acknowledging the shouts coming from the guy who thinks he owns her.
“I said hey ! ” he shouts again, and I can tell by the tone in his voice that he’s embarrassed that she’s ignoring him. Paige is incredibly calm, smoothing out the back of her dress, pulling it lower on her legs, careful to make sure she’s still covered. She may be hot, but she’s also a lady. I think that’s what I notice most. She whispers something to the girl standing by her, then takes a few steps toward the bar, toward the exit. “Hey, you stupid bitch!”
That one gets her. It gets me too, and I flex my raw fingers, testing the burn of my knuckles, readying my arm to let this guy feel something that will stick with him well into tomorrow. I don’t take my eyes away from Paige though. She stops on her heels and turns slowly, brushing her long, blond curls from her shoulders and raising one brow at him in question as she meets his eyes.
“Who the hell was that? Who did you call? And where the hell do you think you’re going?” His intoxication is picking up steam, his words linking together to form new words. Paige leaves her eyes on him for several long seconds, and the hallway around us grows quiet, waiting for whatever she could possibly say to this insensitive asswipe. I’m pretty sure we’re all rooting for her to make him look like a fool.
“That—” she lowers her eyes to his phone, still clutched in his hands, “is my problem, and has nothing to do with you. And as for where I’m going, I’m going home.”
“You can’t just…what…leave? Fuck that, you owe me some answers. Who the fuck is this guy? And what the hell’s going on between you two?” Carson asks, still trying to show his control, as if he ever had it.
Paige starts laughing before he even finishes speaking, and by the time he’s done, she’s laughing out loud, her shoulders rising and falling, her arms once again crossed in front of her body—everything about her is calm.
“This guy?” She points at me with her thumb, barely unfolding her arms. “He’s the one who told me I could do better,” she says, and my eyebrows raise a little, feeling the spotlight of, well, everyone. “And ya know what? He’s right.”
She turns around fast. She’s moving through the hallway quickly, people stepping out of her way, drunk faces stunned and impressed. She doesn’t even pause when she passes the high-back chair she was sitting at, snagging the jacket from the chair back, and pulling it around her body while she takes these long, powerful steps. I’m so damned impressed, my feet don’t work, and even though I want to run after her to give her a high five, maybe throw her up on my shoulder and parade her around the room, rubbing more salt in Carson’s wound, I don’t—because I’m stunned.
When I finally wake up from my trance, I don’t move after her because Carson has now knocked my ass to the floor. I’m able to get with it quickly enough to anticipate his foot coming at me. I grab and twist it, sending him into the wall, a small chunk of drywall chipping away with the impact his shoulder has against it.
He doesn’t bother with words, instead using his last pieces of sobriety to claw and swing at me wildly, grabbing at the collar of my shirt and doing his best to land a punch. But I’m filled with adrenaline now—and while he’s been drinking pints, I’ve had nothing but caffeine. I get to my feet quickly, and after four
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