Right now was no different.
No.
Curtis, if you keep protecting her like this, we're done.
Nothing from his end for a long time. Then, finally:
I swear it won't happen again.
Things between Curtis and me stiffened after that—not a clean break, but a barb lodged just under the skin.
He still shared bits of his day with me, still invited me out.
After the humiliation on the mountain, I turned him down every time. He never pushed.
With my departure approaching, I decided to find the right moment to say a proper goodbye.
As it happened, he mentioned a new shop that had opened nearby and asked if I wanted to check it out together.
This time, I said yes.
I just never expected it to be a tattoo shop—or that the one greeting us would be Gretchen Winfield.
She shot Curtis a knowing look, all playful eyes and raised brows:
"Oh wow, what are the chances! Imogen, I swear this is totally random—Curtis and I are just destined to keep bumping into each other, what can I do? So don't go around crying that I stole your boyfriend again, okay?"
My expression went ice-cold. I shook Curtis's hand off and turned to leave.
He caught up in a few quick strides:
"What now? She works here part-time—the owner's still deciding whether to keep her on. We're her friends, can't we at least show up and make the place look busier? Is that really too much to ask?"
I didn't turn around. My voice came out flat and hard. "She's your friend, not mine. Why should I have to help her?"
Curtis grabbed my hand, pleading. "Just do it as a favor to me, okay? After this, I promise I won't let her show up in front of you again. Being caught between you two is hard on me too."
I couldn't win against him. In the end, he pulled me back inside.
Gretchen was propped on one hand, watching us walk back in. She curled her lip:
"Imogen's got quite the temper, huh. I don't know how you deal with her. I mean, last time she made me apologize in front of everyone, and I just went and did it—not a peep out of me."
Curtis actually spoke up for her. First time ever. "Enough. Stop talking about her like that."
Gretchen's eyes went red in an instant, all wounded and pitiful, staring straight at him.
He looked away, visibly uncomfortable.
"Imogen, find somewhere to sit. I'll grab drinks."
When he turned to Gretchen, his voice went softer.
"What do you want? My treat."
Gretchen sniffled. "Then I want the large. And extra ice, don't forget."