Page 7 of Surviving Slater

I made a hurried excuse to Matthew before I dashed down the hallway as my tears broke loose.

Once inside the restroom, I allowed myself to cry in the hidden stall where no one could see. I hated feeling this way, weak and emotional. Disgusted with myself, I brushed my tears away.

I was strong and I wouldn't allow myself to fall apart. But it hadn't just been that. The sight of Slater had brought back the night he had gotten a glimpse of the past that still had a way of creeping into my present, making me more sensitive than usual.

I gave myself a pep talk as I dried my cheeks with a tissue. Thank goodness I hadn't worn mascara, otherwise I would have looked like a panda.

After my little emotional moment I began to feel better, like the release of emotions had lifted some of the weight off me. I patted my face down with some water before drying it. Another look in the mirror told me my hazel eyes were still a little red but not enough to give away the fact I'd been crying. I soothed my short brown hair.

As I exited, the sight of Slater standing outside caught me by surprise. I stopped, and he walked over to me.

I swallowed that emotion that bubbled back up the surface. I wouldn't break down again.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his eyes searching mine. I nodded stiffly.

He reached out and brushed my cheek softly. I felt the soft touch of his fingers against my skin and it felt so good. I leaned into it. Then he pulled back suddenly, taking me by surprise.

It was a familiar push and pull. I straightened up, refusing to show how his reaction to me affected me. He shoved his hands into his jeans, dropping his eyes for a few moments.

Feeling slightly embarrassed and awkward, I shifted where I stood, not sure what to say or what to do. He could tie me up in knots. Not many people had that effect on me. It was unsettling.

"You and Matt seem close," he said. I frowned slightly as I took in his words.

"Yes. He's a good friend."

He studied me for a moment before looking back down the hallway to where Connor and Matthew were standing.

"Is that what he is?" he asked when he looked back at me.

This time when my frown deepened I felt more than slightly annoyed. I could explain to him that no matter what it might look like, Matthew was only a good friend and nothing more. But after what happened between us, I didn't feel I owed him any explanation.

We weren't together. He had made the choice.

"Why do you care?" I asked, needing to get some sort of reaction out of him.

He pressed his lips together as his eyes held mine.

"I care," he said.

"No, you don't," I scoffed. "You're just being a guy."

"How's that?" He arched his pierced eyebrow.

"You're like a dog with a bone. You don't want it but you don't want anyone else to have it either."

"It's not that," he assured me with a shake of his head.

"Then tell me," I asked, needing to understand why we were even having this conversation.

He was the first guy I had grown close to. Before him, guys had been expendable. His rejection had dented my ego and it was hard to interact with him without experiencing that feeling renewed. And now he was standing here worried about the part Matthew was playing in my life.

Matthew was hot. He was tall and lean. But it wasn't just that—he was also a good guy. I think it was the influence of two younger sisters that had taught him how to deal with women and their emotions because he knew when to listen and when to speak.

"I know you're trying to be brave for everyone but I can see how much this is affecting you." He looked at me like he was seeing deeper than anyone else. "I just don't want someone to take advantage of your vulnerability."

I pressed my lips together when I thought back to when he'd pushed me away. He hadn't been concerned then with hurting me.

"Really?"