by T Gephart
She flipped the hair off her shoulder and went back to her pack of girlfriends. I assumed she’d call us dicks, which we’d probably earned, me for being rude and Mason for . . . whatever he’d done. It was something because I was sure he was to blame as well; I just hadn’t worked out for what yet.
“If the idea was to get laid, why didn’t you buy her a drink? I’m not an expert, but I think you’ll get a lot closer to your objective doing that than by sending them away.”
Man, I was pissed off.
Pissed off, annoyed and hated the sound of the moron’s voice.
“Just drink and get me more beer.” I put the current bottle to my lips and swallowed until it was empty. It was a talent, and one that served me well when I needed to finish in a hurry or get drunk quick. “I’m going to take a piss.” I pulled a fifty and stuck it on the bar.
Didn’t even bother looking at women on my way to the john, instead went in, did what I had to do and headed back to my seat. Thankfully, talky-mc-talk hadn’t disappointed me and had gotten me another beer.
I’d just gotten the bottle to my lips, about to take a drink when I heard, “Does this have anything to do with the blond that was in the shop today?”
Whatever was supposed to go down my throat retreated, spraying out of my mouth as I put down the bottle. “We are not talking about her, okay. In fact, new rule. No more talking at all.”
I wasn’t sure what I wanted but conversation wasn’t it.
Mason was probably going to tell Josh what an asshole I’d been but I didn’t give a fuck. As long as he continued to order me drinks, and then drive my sorry ass home, I didn’t care what chewing out I’d get later.
Wisely the new kid took what I’d said to heart, keeping his mouth shut except when he’d pass me a new bottle. And when I was concerned I might not be able to walk, I called it a night and Mason drove me home. He spoke to me in the car, but I didn’t listen or answer, his mumbling putting me to sleep before we’d left the parking lot.
I didn’t remember getting home, getting out of the car or getting to my bed but by some miracle it had managed to happen. Maybe Mason was a fucking wizard, or had super strength, or maybe I’d woken up at some point and gotten myself there and couldn’t remember.
My head felt like it had been hit with a baseball bat as it hung off the edge of the bed face down. It wasn’t comfortable, and even less so when I lifted it to reposition myself.
“Jesus Christ,” I cursed out loud, thinking it would be a good time to make my peace with him if he had the ability to make me feel better. If he could turn water into wine, surely he’d been drunk a lot. Bet if anyone knew a good hangover cure, it would be that guy.
“You going to spew?” a voice answered back from the dark corner of my room.
“Jesus?” I asked, surprised the man had bothered to answer me back.
There was a pause, followed by a low and slow deep breath.
“Are you serious?”
“Sorry,” I cleared my throat, trying again. “Not really good with the protocol, Jesus Christ. But if you want to share your secrets for beating the hangover, I’m all ears. Actually, wait.” I wriggled on the bed, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a crumpled bill. I had no idea if it was a single or a fifty. “Something for the collection plate.” I held it out, hoping he wouldn’t take too long to take it.
“It’s Josh, you moron. How fucking drunk are you?” His hands—Josh’s I guess, unless Jesus was riding shotgun, and then I had no idea who was touching me—grabbed me and turned me over. My back rolled onto the mattress, the change in direction not doing wonders for my head. At least it was no longer hanging over the side, so that was something.
A shadow loomed over me, the light from the hallway creeping into the room just enough for me to make out his face. “Josh? What the hell are you doing here?”
There was no way to be sure the bed I was in was mine, and to be honest, I hadn’t really cared. But the last time I’d seen Josh was when we’d left for the day. He’d gone home to Eve, and Mason had enthusiastically agreed to join me for a few drinks.
Okay, so he hadn’t been enthusiastic, who cared, he came.
“Where am I?” I asked, hoping the blinking would make my eyes adjust quicker.
“You’re in your house. Mason called me when you guys got home. I helped him get you up here. I drove him home and then came back to check on you.” He put a glass of water in my hand. “Drink it.”
I was tempted to tell him to fuck off and that I didn’t need him to tell me what I needed to do. But I was thirsty and my mouth was dry, so I flipped him off with the hand that wasn’t holding the glass and took a drink.
“Dallas, you need to tell me what the hell is going on.”
Why the hell did everyone want to talk?
I wish Jesus would come back, at least with him the chatting had been kept to a minimum.
“I had sex with Kitty.” I put down the empty glass and hoped there was a way to refill it without having to move. And there was another reason JC’s return would have been appreciated.
“I thought you said you guys were friends?” Josh didn’t sound surprised, but then again he was a pretty smart guy.
“We were, we are. Fucking hell, do you have an Advil?” My fingers squeezed the bridge of my nose, the headache intensifying. “We ended up sleeping together and then it all went bad.”
“Give me a minute and I’ll get you some out of your medicine cabinet. Then you’re going to tell me exactly what happened and we’re going to sort it out.”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure why he bothered.
He had a hot woman in bed waiting for him, in a house that he loved. Why the hell did he drag himself away from all of that at God knows what time to get me Advil and talk out my fucking problems?
“Why?” I turned to look at him, surprised he wasn’t yelling. “It’s got to be late, surely you are sick of getting calls in the middle of the night and bailing me out of trouble.”
He sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and tapping me on the shoulder. “D, you’re my best friend. And I know you well enough to know when you’re hurting. So, whatever it takes, we’re going to fix it.”
If I was sure I wouldn’t have puked, I’d have shaken my head. The effort to fix what was going on seemed like a task that was even beyond him.
Fuck, I missed Kitty.
I just wanted her with me, even if we weren’t having sex. I didn’t care what we did or didn’t do any more; I just wanted her.
“Then maybe you should tell her.”
My eyes snapped to Josh, wondering if he had mind-reading abilities. “Huh?”
“You just said you missed her and that you wanted her with you even if you weren’t having sex.”
I scrubbed the front of my face. “I thought I was having that conversation in my head.”
“Nope. Now let me go get the Advil.”
He disappeared out of the room, returning with more water—maybe he could read minds—and something that would hopefully make the throbbing in my head stop.
I swallowed a couple of pills, finished the water and shuffled myself up the bed so my head was at least resting on some pillows. It was going to be touch and go for a few hours.
Josh took a seat on the bed again, and I started talking. Told him how close we’d been, the stupid experiment and then how we’d ended up breaking the agreement and sleeping with each other anyway.
I’d told him how shit had changed for me over the past couple of weeks. How I’d been waking up early, stopped hanging out in bars, stopped chasing women. How I’d realized the morning after and tried to talk it out with Kitty. And then I’d left and shit hadn’t been the same.
He didn’t talk, not giving me the fucking lecture I was sure I deserved, or tell me all the ways I was a screw up. He just sat there and listened while I spilled my guts out, confused where I’d ended up.
“She told me to go do whatever made me happy. None of this make
s me happy anymore, dude.”
“D, do you think maybe you’re in love with her?”
Maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d been drinking.
“We weren’t even dating.” While I was no Einstein, I was fairly sure you needed to be in a relationship to fall in love. “We barely even slept together.”
“No, you were getting to know her instead.”
I wasn’t sure if he was right, but I was positive I’d never been in love before. I’d been in “like” plenty. Find a girl, “like” her, and date her for a while. Then when the break up happened, I’d be bummed for a minute or so, and then move on. But love, that wasn’t something I was interested in.
Too much trouble.
So the likelihood of falling in love when I wasn’t even attempting to was sort of ridiculous.
“But . . .” I had no words, shaking my head which was dangerous when you were already having an internal battle with the contents of your stomach.
Josh stood up, tapping me on the shoulder. “Let me rephrase that. You are in love with Kitty.”
Fuck.
Me.
Was I in LOVE with Kitty?
“Jesus,” I groaned, closing my eyes as my head spun.
Josh—the bastard—laughed, finding the situation too amusing for my liking. “Yeah, thought we already went through that. It’s Josh.”
“Dude, this isn’t funny.” The panic rose inside of me. “I don’t know how to be in love with a girl. I suck at relationships. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
And this wasn’t some bullshit where I wanted him to feed my ego. Fuck that, I was serious. I knew nothing about love.
Nothing.
As in, the day they were giving out the instructions on how to do it, I was probably getting a hand job somewhere else.
Fuck.
“You’ll figure it out, trust me.” He gave me another tap—if he was trying to be reassuring it wasn’t helping—on the shoulder. “Kitty is an amazing woman, D, I couldn’t think of anyone better.”
Oh.
Fucking.
Hell.
“She’s on a fucking date with someone else.” It tore out of my mouth as my ass lifted off the mattress. Whatever was going on with my stomach would have to wait as my chest tightened so much I could barely breathe.
In slow motion, the last conversation Kitty and I’d had replayed in my mind.
Her mentioning some douchebag, and me telling her to do whatever.
And none of it close to what I’d wanted to say.
Ironic that I’d finally fall in love with someone, and then keel over and die.
“I’m having a heart attack.” I clutched my chest, my life flashing before my eyes. “Call 9–1-1.”
Josh grabbed the back of my neck and shoved it down toward my knees. He didn’t even grab for his phone, telling me to “breathe,” while I stared at my floor.
“What the hell are you doing? I’m dying here. Now is not the time to try and give myself a blowjob.” I struggled against his hold, wanting to grab my own damn cell if he wasn’t going to be proactive. Besides, self blowjobs were impossible, I’d tried it when I was sixteen and there was no way I’d suck my own dick now.
“You’re having a panic attack, you’re not dying.” The pressure on my back didn’t ease. “You need to fucking slow down your breathing before you pass the hell out.”
“I’m dy—”
It was all I managed to get out, the edges of my sight getting blurry as being awake seemed like an optional extra. He was wrong. I didn’t have panic attacks, why the hell wouldn’t he call the paramedics?
He no longer seemed interested in keeping my head down, letting go of me as I returned to vertical. “D, you need to stop fighting me and slow the hell down. You are not dying.”
If I’d thought his fetish for manhandling me was over, I’d been mistaken. Shoving me back on the bed and holding me down. “Breathe.”
Not having much choice—and no energy to struggle—I opened my mouth and took as much O2 into my lungs as possible. Then I held it for a second, giving it just enough time to burn before I let it spill out. And after a few more breaths, the heart attack seemed to ease, my chest no longer feeling like an elephant had parked on top of it.
“You good?” he asked, his hands lifting slowly.
Was I?
Not sure that I was, my head nodded all the same assuring him that at least for now I’d beaten the grim reaper.
“Kitty is with another guy.” It wheezed out of my throat like a broken squeeze toy. “She told me, gave me an opportunity to stop it and I didn’t.”
“Ah, fuck, D.” Josh sat down. “Well, here is where you’re going to have to man up, tell her what you’re feeling. Trust me, the longer you let that shit go, the more complicated it will get.”
“TELL HER?” My chest tightened again with the possibility of round two. “Did you miss the part when I said I don’t know how to do this? I can’t just tell her I think—” No fuck that, there was no thinking about it, I was in love with her. “I can’t just tell her I’m in love with her, what if she says she doesn’t feel the same way?”
I wasn’t sure which scenario terrified me the most. The fact I’d actually fallen in love with someone, or that I had no idea if the feeling was reciprocated. Add in the complication that we weren’t in relationship, and she was probably kissing some other dude, and we had Defcon 1 level issues.
“If she doesn’t feel the same way, then at least you know. But you need to tell her.” Josh leveled me with a stare.
Easy for him to say, he didn’t have to put his balls on a chopping block, hand someone else a cleaver and hope they were nice about it. Not to mention the minute I opened my mouth and spilled that kind of confession it would be the end of the world as we knew it.
“Okay, okay.” I appeased him; too busy trying to deal with the shitstorm in my own head than to worry about arguing with Captain America.
He was good at that shit, knowing what to say and when to say it. I, on the other hand, was not. So of course he didn’t get why the hell I was losing my goddamn mind over the idea of telling her.
“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Sure thing. I’ll call her.” I did more convincing. “I’ll tell her everything.”
He rose off the bed, satisfied by my act. “Just wait until you sober up. You want me to hang around tonight?”
Yeah, because it wasn’t bad enough I was still freaking the fuck out, I wanted to invite an audience to that sideshow too.
“Nah, go home to your woman. I’m fine. Going to go to sleep. Sleep it all off. Sleep,” I repeated my plan, positive I’d have a better chance of time traveling than sleeping.
He nodded, giving me one last look over. “Don’t freak out, D.”A little late for that, asshole, but thanks. “If you need anything give me a call, I’ll come by in the morning and pick you up.”
“Sure, yep, all good,” I agreed, not even sure what I was agreeing to. But if it got him out of my apartment then it was a good thing.
He waited like he wasn’t convinced but didn’t make shit any more uncomfortable by asking me again if I was ok. “I’ll show myself out and lock up behind me. See you.”
And then as promised he left, the sound of the front door shutting coming soon after.
I was so incredibly screwed.
I was freaking in love with Kitty.
Kitty
DALLAS.
Not only had he not taken my call last night—letting it go to voice mail—but he hadn’t returned it either.
And deep down I knew it wasn’t an accident.
We hadn’t seen each other for two days and when I finally do see him I tell him I’m going to be with someone else. If he was waiting for an excuse so he didn’t look like the bad guy, I’d given him one.
He had probably gone out, found someone new and had an amazing night. Why wouldn’t he? He had no obligations, no commitment to me—there was no reason for him not to do what he’d been d
oing before.
And while I had no right to be, the thought of him with someone else made me so incredibly sad.
Not because she—who ever she was—had his body, but because she got to spend time with him, kiss him, hold him, and I wasn’t sure I’d get that chance anymore.
Stupid.
Stupid girl.
The reality of everything I’d lost made me want to throw up.
While morning didn’t improve my mood, the fast-paced hustle of the day kept me too occupied to give it much thought. It also didn’t give me much time for a break either, missing my regular lunch with Lani as I decided to work through.
“You sure you can’t take twenty minutes to go get something to eat?” She looked at me with disbelief. “Braxton Hill isn’t a sweatshop, you’re entitled to a break.”
I shook my head knowing the break wouldn’t help. “I know I’m entitled to one, I’m choosing to not take it. I’ll grab something from the vending machine in the staff room. I would just rather get it all done and go home on time than need to work late tonight.”
“But why?” she whined, unable to understand why I had so much to do. “What do you have to do for Garrett that’s so important?”
There was no way I could explain the complexities of my relationship with my boss. And how over the course of months, my responsibilities had surpassed what would be expected of an assistant. Besides our agreement—the one between Garrett and I—being confidential, I was positive she’d be annoyed I’d kept it from her all that time. And while I didn’t doubt she’d be happy for my success, I didn’t want to risk her jealousy. Work was the one place I had my shit together, I didn’t want it to unravel, one person at a time.
“He just likes things done a certain way. By the time I’ve explained it to someone else, I could’ve done it myself.” I shrugged, hoping she’d buy it.
For the most part it was exactly the truth.
Garrett was more than particular, and had a tendency to get annoyed quickly. Most people thought he was a grouch, avoiding him at all costs. But I hadn’t been scared of him, which in turn had earned his respect.
“Fine, but I’m bringing you back something decent to eat.” She pointed her finger at me in warning. “There is no way I’m going to let you survive on the offerings of the vending machine.”