by Jane Anthony
His body tenses. “What about her?”
“Really, Jess? That piece of low-rent trash? You brought her to my birthday party?”
“You’re drunk, Wren. Knock it off.” He pulls up in front of my apartment and kills the engine.
“I may be drunk, but I know a whore when I smell one.” I wave my hand in front of my nose for dramatic affect. “That girl has had her mouth around everything, and you have her gross lipstick on your face.”
“Just quit talking now before you make me say something I’ll regret.”
“Oh, like what? Gimme your best shot!”
His eyes glow fiercely in the dashboard lights. “Kim’s from my neighborhood, you know.”
“Yeah. So?”
“You call her poor white trash. What do you think I am? Where do you think I come from, Bird?”
Chills slither up my arms. “That’s not what I meant—"
“Bullshit. You think you’re better than her because you haven’t had to scrounge for a single thing. You’re not like us. You don’t know what it’s like to be hungry. You live in your rich suburban side of town with your rich boyfriend, looking down your nose at all of us struggling to survive.”
I swallow past the threat of truth peeking up over the surface of my anger. “That’s not true.”
“It is, and when you judge her, you’re judging me.” He grips the wheel in a white-knuckle grasp.
I reach for him but quickly pull back. “I never cared where you came from, Jess. I resent you even thinking that.”
Jesse’s voice falls to a careful, controlled tone. “For the record. I didn’t invite her. She was there.” Then, despite his anger, holding his chin high, he turns to face me. “You have somebody. You don’t have the right to give me shit for finding somebody, too.” He tugs the handle and pushes the door open with his elbow.
“Where are you going?”
Without an answer, he jumps from the driver’s seat and rounds to the passenger side. “C’mon. I’ll help you in,” he grumbles.
Our hands joined, he helps me down and walks me to my door in silence.
My shaking hands flounder to get my key in the lock. It disengages with a click. I glance up, struggling to find the right words to quell the hostility falling off him in droves, but my head’s still fuzzy, my body hypersensitive to his warmth on my back. “You can come inside if you want.”
But he runs his hand to the back of his neck, pulling his brows together with a strong exhale. “Happy Birthday, Bird,” is the last thing he says before turning his back and walking away.
SHRILL RINGING cuts across my forehead like an ax. With my eyes closed to the morning sun, I blindly reach out and search for my phone. “Hello?” I garble. My voice sounds as though I’ve been gargling sawdust; my mouth tastes like day-old cranberries soaking in formaldehyde.
“You’re still asleep? It’s noon.”
“Dad?”
“It’s Jesse.”
“Oh good,” I grumble, pulling the covers over my head. The last thing I need is a lecture about drinking responsibly. But memories of the night before flash in my mind. I got hammered and made the biggest fool of myself. I’m staying in this bed forever and never coming out. “Didn’t you say everything you needed to say last night?”
“Last night . . . you said some shit; I said some shit. Let’s just say shit and forget it, okay?”
“Forgotten.” Mischief snores next to me. I reach out and give him a shove. The dog barely moves, but at least he gets quiet. “I am sorry, though. For everything.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.” A moment of silence passes. “What are you doing today?” Jesse asks after what seems like an oddly long length of time.
“Right now, I’m contemplating whether or not I might be dying from alcohol poisoning.”
Rich laughter soothes my ear. “Drink some water. You’ll be okay.”
“I’ve never felt this shitty in my life.” Physically and mentally.
“How about some breakfast? I can bring bagels and a whole vat of coffee.”
“Make mine a Taylor ham, egg, and cheese, and I’ll love you forever.”
Another chuckle turns my insides to liquid. Even with the storm raging inside my skull, the smooth sound of his voice licks up my thighs, creating a slow ache that has me rubbing them together.
“You got it.”
I manage to crawl out of bed long enough to pee, brush my teeth, and unlock the door before sliding back under the covers. Twenty minutes later, I hear the front door open and shut, followed by Jesse’s deep baritone. “Bird?”
“Breakfast in bed,” I call.
Jesse materializes in my doorway. Nirvana stretches across his thick chest, broken and faded from years of wear and wash. Paint dapples the distressed fibers of his jeans. He kicks off his shoes and hands over the most heavenly scented paper bag I’ve ever encountered. My stomach rumbles, but whether it’s from the food or the sight of the man bringing it, I can’t be sure. At this moment, though, I’m so thankful for both of them.
“Move over.” He lifts the dog under his belly and deposits him at the foot of the bed. Mischief doesn’t crack an eye. Jesse gets in beside me, his back curving up against the wooden headboard.
“You’re the best.” I sit up and open the bag. “Which one’s mine?”
Hooking a finger into the opening, he peeks inside. “Yours is the one with the red X. Extra pepper and ketchup on an everything bagel, right?”
Warmth floods my veins. All these years later, he still remembers how I eat a breakfast sandwich. “You amaze me.”
“That’s the booze talking.” He pauses, gifting me a lopsided grin that makes my nerve endings feel like they’re taking flight. “Drunkard.”
Steam rises from the hot sandwich as I peel open the layers of tinfoil, my mouth watering for the salty goodness. I practically unhinge my jaw to take a bite.
“All the times I imagined you moaning in bed, never once was it over an orgasmic breakfast sandwich.”
“You’re such a dick,” I warble over my bite, offering a second sound of pleasure as I swallow. “It’s so good, though. Just what I needed.”
“Okay, that I pictured.”
With mindless banter, we attack our food lying in bed side by side. “Feel better?” Jesse asks, blowing into the small hole in his coffee cup before taking a tentative sip.
“I do. Thank you. You’re so good to me.” I settle into his side, my hand sliding up his strong chest, encased in heat as his arm comes around my back.
He shifts onto one hip as his free hand digs into the back pocket of his jeans. “Here. Happy Birthday,” he says, dropping an envelope on my lap.
“You didn’t have to do this.” I smile, letting the aromas of coffee, food, and Jesse take me away as I sit up and slide my finger under the flap. Peeling it back, I peek inside. “No way!” I lift the envelope to my lips in shock before opening it again and pulling out the contents. “Violent Femmes tickets?”
He shrugs. “I know you like them.”
“Holy shit, Jess!” I tackle him in a hug that topples us both onto the mattress. “This is the best! Thank you so much! You’ll come with me, right?”
From the corner of my eye, I see a smile curve his lips. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want.” Excitement stirs in my veins, but this nagging in the back of my neck won’t let go. I push to a sitting position, instantly missing his warmth. “For what it’s worth, I never saw you as trash. I never found you beneath me. And it hurts my heart that I’ve made you feel that way.”
“Bird, I already told you, it’s forgotten.”
Emotion stings my eyes. “That shitshow last night had nothing to do with her and everything to do with you and me.” I bring my knees to my chest, protecting my heart from the brutal blow it will ultimately receive. “Kim’s fine. I have no beef with her. The truth is, I’m jealous. Eventually, you’ll meet someone, and she’ll decide she doesn’t like you spending time
with me, and you’ll have to make a choice between your possible future with a good woman and your friendship with me. I guess I just wasn’t ready for it.”
He shifts, meeting my forward stance. “I won’t let that happen.”
“It’s inevitable.” I shrug, lifting my palm to his cheek, swallowing down the hurt bubbling up inside. “I never want to come between you and your happily ever after. When that time comes, and it will, I’ll understand. I just want you to know that.” Turning away, I swing my legs over the side of the mattress and stand. Jesse’s gaze burns into my skin. Fiery licks of direct sunlight marking every spot his cobalt eyes touch as I saunter across the room and grab the remains of our breakfast.
I pad to the sliding glass door and open it a crack. Mischief strides out and jots around the grass, stopping every so often to sniff what he finds out there. Seconds pass before Jesse follows me out of the bedroom. His hair twists in a mangled mass of golden waves as if he’d just run his fingers through it. His gaze scans the room and stops on the open laptop sitting on my couch. “You working on something?”
“Nothing special.” I shrug and close the lid.
“Will you read me some?”
“No, I can’t.”
Warmth floods my veins when he smiles. “C’mon, you know I’m your biggest fan.”
I offer up a nervous smile, feeling the blush rise up my cheeks.
“It’s not ready now. I will . . . someday.”
The pounding in my pulse is a feverish rush of adrenaline as Jesse comes closer. “Has Asher read it?”
His words hit me in the chest so hard I feel woozy. I’m a hack. I call myself an aspiring author, but I’m too afraid to let anyone see what I write. What if they hate it? What if they tell me I’m no good? I can’t open myself up to that kind of rejection. Especially now, when my heart feels as fragile as glass. My words are shit. Just a jumbled string of thoughts and feelings that’s hardly a story at all.
Maybe I don’t have one in me.
Another truth I'm scared to face.
“Doesn’t matter now. Asher and I broke up last night.”
Jesse’s jaw goes slack. “You did?”
I nod, slipping onto the couch and curling my feet under me.
He sits at the other end, resting his arm across the back, his face still wearing that dead expression that ties my belly in knots. “Why?”
“I just didn’t feel like I was important to him.”
And I think I’m in love with my best friend.
“Oh,” is his only response.
Pushing myself from the cushion, I pace a small circle in the living room, letting my mind race. “It’s not enough to be loved, I need to feel it, or it doesn’t count. I want someone who enjoys my madness. Inside jokes and TV night. Mundane, everyday things that exist only between him and me. I want to be treated like a lady in public, ravaged in private, and wooed for eternity. If I’m not his everything, I may as well be nothing. I just want someone who . . .”
I trail off, twisting on my heel and locking eyes with a heated blue gaze that ignites a fire in the pit of my stomach.
Makes me feel the way I feel with you, I think to myself.
“I’m rambling. I’m sorry. You must think I sound insane. I know. I’m a hopeless romantic with impossible standards.”
“You’re not. You deserve all those things and shouldn’t settle. Never apologize for wanting more.”
“You get me, Jess. You always have,” I admit, falling back down and settling under his arm. “Thank you for listening.”
“Course. What are friends for?”
My fingers tangle in the tips of my hair and tug. “I’m gonna die alone, aren’t I?”
He blows a breathy snicker against my tresses. “There’s an ass for every saddle, Bird. You’ll find yours.”
I already did. I want to say it. Scream it. Fall at his feet, and beg him to forgive me, but I can’t. The words get lodged under the lump in my throat. I fought so hard for the man of my dreams, but I know now that it was another piece of fiction swimming in my head. He doesn’t exist. What I really wanted all along was the man who’ll dream alongside me. He’s always been here. I was just too blind to see it.
CHAPTER 12
Jesse
“WHAT ARE YOU DRAWING?” Kim asks on the end of a yawn. She arches her back, reaching her arms to the ceiling before snuggling close to my side.
A single lamp shines atop my nightstand, the rest of the room drenched in darkness. I draw my knees up to face my sketch pad toward the light. “Nothin’.” The pen floats across the crisp white paper. My mind as blank as the canvas before me, the thick lines of ink lead the way.
“You should come teach the kids some art. Bet they’d love that.”
“Yeah. Sure,” I grumble.
“And when you’re done, you can bend me over the desk.”
“Cool.”
She reaches across her body and pulls the pen from my hand. I look up with wide-eyed shock as she clicks the cap in place and sets it down on her sheet-covered lap. “You’re not even listening to me.”
“Of course, I am.”
She rolls her eyes and sits up, hugging her knees to her chest. A curtain of blond curls falls past her shoulders, concealing half her face. She pushes it back with her purple-tipped fingers and secures it behind her ear. “No, you’re not. You asked me to come over, and now you’re ignoring me.”
With a sigh, I set my pad on the bedside table. “I’m sorry. Drawing relaxes me.”
“Having sex with me didn’t relax you?” she asks with an expectant stare.
A lazy smile lifts the edge of my mouth. “Different kind of relaxation.”
Heavy lashes fall over her almond-shaped eyes in two quick reps. “Mmmhmm.”
I slide my legs out in front of me. “I’ll sketch when I’m alone. How’s that?”
“Better.” She grins, curling into me again.
Rose perfume filters through my nostrils. I crinkle my nose at the unappealing smell. It reminds me of the rose-encrusted lattice fixed to the side of my grandma’s tiny house. The entire property smelled of flowers in the spring, but it was a heavy fragrance that got inside your nasal passages and stayed there long after you’d went home for the day.
“So,” she starts, “as I was saying. The kids would probably love for you to come give them an art lesson if you have a free afternoon.”
Kim is an interesting woman. Not only is she finishing up her bachelor’s in special education, but she also works as a peer counselor at the Boys and Girls club. I should be tripping over myself to lock this girl down. She’s beautiful, smart, and more altruistic than any person I’ve ever met. She’s truly a kind soul. So why don’t I feel anything when I look at her?
“Yeah—" I start to say, but I’m cut off when my cell phone skitters across the wooden table near my bed. My head whips toward the sound. Wren’s name lights up the screen. I lift it, slipping my thumb between the seam to snap it open. “Hey. It’s late. You all right?”
Wren, I mouth to Kim, dropping the phone past my chin.
“I know it’s late. I’m sorry . . . It’s too late to call my dad, and I knew you’d be up . . .” Wren snivels through the earpiece, and my heart thuds louder in my chest.
Is it Asher? If he did something to her, I swear to Christ, I’ll bury him in my backyard. “Yeah, yeah. What’s going on?”
“I was getting ready to go to bed, and Mischief waddled into the room like he always does, ya know? Except he couldn’t get up. It was like, he almost tried, then he just collapsed onto his side, and he won’t get up.” Her sobs come harder now; her words barely audible. “He’s breathing, but it’s so labored, and he’s whimpering, and I have to get him to the vet, but I don’t think I can drive like this.”
“Okay. I’ll be right there.” Gripping the phone between my ear and shoulder, I jump out of bed and pull on a pair of gray sweatpants.
She sucks in a few stuttering breaths before croakin
g out, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Just hang tight.”
I disconnect the call and swipe my T-shirt from the floor as Kim’s concerned stare leaches into me. “Everything okay?” she asks.
“Wren’s dog . . . Doesn’t sound good.”
“So she calls you in the middle of the night, and that’s it? You just run out the door?”
Wren’s cryptic warning floats into my mind. Eventually, you’ll meet someone, and she’ll decide she doesn’t like you spending time with me. I suck in a sharp breath and blow it back out hard. “She’s my best friend, Kim.”
“You’re her monkey. She says jump, you say how high?”
“What do you want me to do, Kim? With the way she sounded, I can’t let her drive like that. She’ll kill someone on the road.”
Kim kicks her legs over the side of the bed and hops out. “Fine. Go help your friend. Call me tomorrow.” An edge of irritation mars her supportive words. When a woman tells you to do something, it always means do not, under any circumstances, do that thing, or there will be hell to pay. Frustration lifts off her like that stank rose perfume as she saunters around the room, pulling her clothes over her dynamite body. If I wasn’t such a fuckin’ sap, I’d call Wren back and tell her to deal with her shit, then take Kim back to bed and rail her into next week, but I already have one foot out the door.
I’ve had one foot out the door since Kim and I started dating.
“I’m sorry. Thank you for being so understanding about this. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
I kiss her goodbye at her car and help her in before dashing to my truck and racing to Wren’s apartment. The gate guard waves me through as I pass. Finding a spot right out front, I throw the truck in park and run to her door, not even bothering to knock as I let myself in. “Bird!” I call, speeding through the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom.
Tears glitter on her cheeks, her hair sticking to her dampened face. Just as she said, poor Mischief lies on his side, his stomach pumping with shallow breaths.