It started off great. Zack took me to a lovely five-star seafood restaurant, but when we arrived, he waited in the car until I came to open his door. Confused a bit, I asked him if everything was okay. He said he just needed to check something on his phone, so I figured it was a coincidence that I ended up opening his door.
We walked to the entrance of the restaurant, and he stepped to the side and stared at the door like a dog that needed to go out. If only his tail had been wagging, I might have picked up on his need a little sooner. After an odd few seconds, I finally opened the door and waved him on in. Not even a thank you came out of his mouth. He did, however, greet the hostess, who had roaming eyes and a smile just for him. Zach’s response? A smile, followed by, “I know, right?”
Right then, before we even got to our table, I looked at him and saw a hideous man.
Because I don’t learn from my mistakes or that some men are too beautiful for their own good, I soon met Andy.
Andy was good. He pulled the wool over my eyes like no man had before. He opened doors. He didn’t take selfies. He didn’t stare in the mirror, and he even told me I was pretty on occasion. It was a step forward from what I had experienced before.
Oh, Andy. What a prick.
A year into our “decent” relationship is when I found him in my dorm room with my friends. That’s when I realized it didn’t matter how much time I invested into what I thought was a monogamous relationship or making future plans, it still takes less than five seconds to erase all of it and shatter my heart.
After our breakup, I found an Andy Rake fan Facebook “Fan” page. Seriously . . . it was the biggest what the fuck moment of my life. It turns out; he wasn’t just cheating on me with my two friends. There were at least twelve others. Most of them found out before me and were already busy planning his demise. I left the group and the idea of good-looking men behind for the indefinite future.
Another year later, here I am, facing the option to go back down that path or to go running in the opposite direction. I realize there are good-looking men who aren’t total assholes, but I’m not sure my radar is working the way it should be, so I’m not sure which category Sterling fits under yet, but I hope I’ll figure out quickly if he’s jerk.
When I pull into Jade’s parking lot, I recognize Sterling’s jeep out in front, and for like the twentieth time today, my stomach twists into tiny little knots. Why must we do this dating thing? Why can’t a man just be walking around holding a limo sign with my name on it, informing me he’s the right guy? Life would be so much easier. Knowing my luck with men, though, the right guy lives in Antarctica or hasn’t even been born yet.
I hike up the stairs and open the door to a super awkward scene, which is strange for Jade of all people. Sterling, and what looks like a mirror image of Sterling, are sitting at the edge of her bed while she leans against the back wall with her arms crossed over her chest, touting an annoyed look.
“You’re late,” Jade scolds me.
I glance down at my phone, finding I’m less than sixty seconds late. “Not really,” I laugh.
“We should get going then,” Jade says, making her way over to me quickly and looping her arm through mine. “Ready guys?”
Everyone is quiet as we load into Sterling’s Jeep. Jade and— “What’s your name, Sterling’s brother?” I ask.
“Cleary,” he says. He’s so quiet, I can already see a vivid difference between the two brothers. Sadly, for Jade, though, quiet is not her type. I still don’t think Jade is in any position to be dating so soon after breaking off an engagement, but I’m a supportive friend, and I will keep my lips sealed.
“Everyone good with the Beach Fire?” I remember Sterling mentioning that place last night, and I’m not sure if it’s on the beach, or if it’s the name of a restaurant, but whatever it is, I hope it loosens everyone up.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Jade pipes up from the backseat.
“Sure,” I agree.
The only one who doesn’t say anything is Cleary . . . strange.
“So, did you recover from nearly drowning today?” Sterling announces. Well, if that doesn’t break up the uncomfortable silence in the Jeep, I’m not sure what else will.
“Yeah, I’m breathing on my own and on solid ground, so all is well,” I respond, glaring at him.
Jade leans forward from the back seat and places her cold hand on my shoulder. “Excuse me? What did I miss today?”
“She almost drowned trying to save the kid she’s caring for . . . except he wasn’t drowning. He got snapped by a crab, and Guppy here got hit with a big bad wave. Prince merman had to save her butt.” Sterling tells the story with so much sarcasm it almost sounds like he’s making fun of the situation. Maybe someday I’ll laugh about it, but I was truly scared today. The wave dragged me at least twenty feet deeper into the water I couldn’t swim through. If Liam hadn’t saved me, would Sterling have sat there watching in laughter?
“It wasn’t funny,” I correct him
“It was a little funny,” he croaks, trying to sound cute. “Tomorrow morning, I’m showing you how to swim.” So, when he says tomorrow morning, does he think I’ll be rolling out of bed with him to hit the beach at an early hour, or does he think I’ll be meeting him there? The thought has my head in a jumble, and I can’t figure this guy out, even a little bit. So, that now makes two guys in one day that I can’t figure out.
“I can’t believe that happened,” Jade says, snorting through her stifled laugh. “Did you need CPR or anything?” Why wouldn’t she have asked that before laughing? What if I seriously almost drowned? She’d feel bad right now. I’d hope.
“No,” I grunt.
Sterling glances over at me, “So, how’s it been working with the jackiest ass ever?”
“I thought you guys were friends?” They looked chummy last night. Liam obviously had his warning and disclaimer about Sterling, but they appeared to be friendly.
“Eh, we surf together, so we’re just brochachos.”
“Sorry, what was that?” I’m twisted in my seat, staring at Sterling’s profile, waiting for clarification of his non-English word.
“They’re surfer friends,” Cleary inserts his second comment in the last five minutes.
“Brochachos,” I repeat.
“What would Jade and I be then?”
“We don’t surf, dorkus,” she reminds me.
“Well, we might,” I retort.
“After almost drowning today, I don’t know,” she argues.
I roll my eyes and straighten my position on my seat, keeping my gaze set on the street of the downtown area in Ogunquit. It is so cute here at night—white lights line the streets, and there are so many people strolling down the sidewalks, walking in and out of small mom-and-pop shops. Live music echoes from one of the outside restaurants, and it’s like a small town out of a movie set. “I love it here. Is it always so lively at night?”
“From Memorial Day to mid-September it’s pretty much just like this. It’s a New Englander’s weekend go-to spot,” Sterling says.
“I can see why.” Enamored by the lights and music filtering in through the open Jeep top, we pass through the small area and continue up the street about a mile where I spot the largest fire pit I’ve ever seen. “I take it that’s the Beach Fire?” which is not so much at the beach.
“You’re so attentive,” Sterling jokes. Taking his sarcasm down a notch wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
After pulling into the full lot, we unload from the Jeep and walk toward the restaurant. “Are you guys starved?” Sterling asks everyone.
“Not starved, but I could eat,” I tell him.
“Same,” Jade says.
Oddly, or not so oddly enough, Cleary doesn’t even answer.
“Okay, how about some apps and drinks? We should grab those seats before the pit fills up. It’s still early enough that we can claim those bar stools for the show,” Sterling continues.
“What
show?” I question.
“Just wait,” Cleary finally says.
“We’ll be right back. Go grab those four seats.” Sterling takes Cleary’s arm and drags him into the restaurant. As they walk in, he places his arm around his neck and says something into his ear.
“Dude, this fucking sucks,” Jade whines. “He’s like a mute.”
We take the seats on the farthest end of the fire pit, closest to the street. “It’s not like you’ve been talking up a storm,” I inform Jade.
“I tried talking to him before you got there. It was like talking to a brick wall. What the hell is his problem?” she continues, placing her feet up on the stone siding of the pit.
“Maybe he’s just shy?” I suggest.
“That’s ridiculous.” It may be ridiculous to someone like Jade, who seems to make friends with every passing person she meets, but not everyone is like her. “Whatever, I’ll get him drunk and figure him out.”
I huff a quiet laugh, imagining how the night will likely go down. “Typical Jade.”
A cheesy smile stretches across her face, and she pulls her phone out. “Selfie time.” She wraps her arm around my neck and pulls me in close as we try to center our faces inside of the viewer. She snaps a few and starts her posting procedure, which is typically, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
As I’m staring aimlessly into the flames, a limo pulls into the dirt lot, and a group of dressed-up girls nearly falls out of the open back door like a bunch of clowns smashed into a VW Bug. They’re shouting and laughing, and it takes less than a second to see the sashes announcing a bachelorette party. A Tuesday night bachelorette party? Must be one hell of an upcoming wedding. Though this does seem like a vacation spot, and there isn’t a shortage of places to party around here.
Two by two they fill up the chairs around us, and I place my clutch down on the chair next to me, saving Sterling’s seat. I glance over at Jade to make sure she’s doing the same for Cleary, and I see the hesitation in her eyes while she does so. “Jade, come on, give the guy a chance. Seriously, he might just be shy. Besides, you know what they say about the shy ones . . .”
“Blah blah blah, they’re always the best ones in bed.”
“See? You could get your brains screwed out tonight. Isn’t that what you’ve been dreaming about?”
Jade cocks her head to the side, giving me a look as if what I’m saying is a lie. “I just want to have some fun, Jules. I don’t need to get my brains fucked out.” She pauses for a minute, fidgeting her feet around on top of the stone wall. “I mean, it wouldn’t be horrible. It would probably clear my mind for a bit at least.”
“Exactly,” I tell her. It’s bad friend advice, but maybe having a fuck buddy for the summer would get her to ease up on her bad drinking habits a bit and clear her stressful thoughts about Chip. All in all, it might be best for all of us.”
“I love you,” she tells me, wrapping her arm around my neck and resting her head on my shoulder.
“What for this time?” I joke.
“Your understanding of a fuck buddy. Ms.-I-like-to-only-be-in-relationships used to snarl at the thought of a fuck buddy. Oh, I got the best idea ever,” she squeals and claps her hands together. “We should make a pact right now.” There is no way anything good is about to come out of her mouth.
“Uh . . .”
“I’ll take that as a, ‘what’s your idea, my best friend?’” she speaks for me.
“Okay, Jade, what’s your fantastic idea?”
“Let’s just find fantastic fuck buddies this summer. We have to go back home in September and be adults, so why the hell not? When else will we get another chance just to screw whatever looks hot.” The idea of this sounds dirty, but I’ve also been hanging out to dry like a rotting grape for the past year, too. Yeah, that’s seriously a gross visual and analogy. Good to keep that as my inner thought.
“I don’t know,” I tell her.
“You have two hot guys eyeballing you,” she adds in.
“And they’re friends. So . . . keep that in mind.”
“Yeah, hello menage-tres.”
“Um, it’s menage a trois. French, not half French, half Spanish.”
“Okay, Jules. We both know you’re the smart one. You don’t have to correct me all of the time.”
“Fine, I’ll let you suggest a menage-tres to someone and sit back and watch. Okay?”
“Ugh,” she groans. “Get the stick out of your butt . . . for now.”
The guys are heading over to us with a few bottles of wine and four glasses. “Who likes white and who likes red?” Sterling asks.
“I’m red,” I tell him.
“I’m white,” Jade follows.
“How perfect,” Sterling replies. I’m a red guy, and Cleary is a white guy.”
“Yeahhhh,” Jade says with a purposefully fake excitement.
Sterling pours everyone glasses, and they both take their seats beside us. I kind of feel bad for Jade. I do hope Cleary breaks the silence and talks to her for a bit. She needs something to get her mind off the last conversation we had.
I take the first few sips of the wine and relax into my chair, watching Sterling do the same. “I love it here,” he says.
“So do they,” I nod over to the girls in hysterics, laughing on the other side of the pit.
“Where are you ladies from?” Sterling yells over to them.
“Connecticut,” three of the girls say at the same time. They’re whooping and fist pumping the air about Connecticut as if we were talking about a sports team. They must already be half in the bag.
“Nice, nice. Who’s the lucky lady here tonight?” Sterling continues.
One of the girls, who appears to be the Jade of the group, grabs the wrist of the blonde girl with a white sash that vibrantly reads “Bride” in big red letters. Based on her reaction, it appears that her overly exuberant maid-of-honor planned one hell of a bachelorette party, and she may or may not be so thrilled with the idea yet. I’ve seen this scenario before, but the twist is, a few drinks later, the bride will be the one doing some weird trending dance around the fire. I can see why Sterling warned us about the entertainment here. This kind of stuff must happen all the time.
“Well, congrats! You have a lucky man.”
Oh, gag. Yes, it appears I’m on a date with a man who’s more intrigued by a bride-to-be than the person he nearly begged to go out tonight. If he keeps moving in this direction, he might just earn himself a chapter in “He’s Just Too Into Himself.” I don’t know how I pick ‘em, or how they always seem to pick me.
Their conversation continues for far longer than I could imagine, and it makes me wonder if Sterling loves this location for its opportunities to hit on women glowing around a fire.
As the spatter of awkward questions dies down, one of the bridesmaids drags the bride-to-be into the restaurant and up to the bar. Almost immediately, Sterling loops his arm effortlessly around my shoulders and takes a swig of his wine. “Marriage, ugh,” he says with a laugh. “I wonder if that poor girl knows what she’s getting herself into. The douche sounds like a loser too . . . an accountant’s assistant in Boston?” So, in less than thirty minutes, I have learned: A: Sterling is a flirt; B: He’s the type who would call himself a friendly guy in response to being called a flirt; C: He thinks marriage is a joke, and D: He’s insulting a man the bride-to-be vaguely mentioned in passing. Conclusion? Sterling is falling off of my barely-there radar quite fast.
On the contrary, Cleary and Jade are in a quiet but serious conversation. It’s so quiet, I can’t make out what they’re saying, and it makes me wonder what she could be talking about so passionately. By the look on her face, she’s completely entranced by the fact that he’s just listening to her so intently.
Sterling’s arm tightens around my neck as he clutches the metal of his seat between his legs and scoots over a little closer. “How’s the wine?”
“Not bad,” I tell him, keeping my answer casual.
“Did you make it or something?” I jest back to him.
He places his hand over his chest and clutches at his white polo that I have diligently ignored because it’s a perfect contrast between white and the tan on his chest. “It was a hundred-dollar bottle,” he complains.
Good God. I don’t think anyone has ever spent that type of money on me, but I can’t help questioning his motive for spending that kind of money on our first date, especially when we’re just sitting around a bonfire. “Well, gosh, in that case, it’s delicious.” I lay it on thick because I honestly feel guilty that he spent so much on a beverage. It truly isn’t that good, but I’ll keep that little tidbit to myself.
“You sure now?”
“I’m sure.” I smile and take another big sip, hoping to get rid of it quicker than I planned.
An older couple takes the seats that were previously occupied by the bridal party, and the woman pulls in a deep, relaxing breath as if this were her finish line at the end of a long day. The man pulls out a cigar and leans back in his chair, matching the woman’s disposition.
“Think we’ll be like that someday?” Sterling asks me.
His words completely wind me, and I lean back, flashing my gaze over at him. “Sorry, what?”
“Kidding,” he mutters quietly, accompanied with a cocky smirk, of course.
“You scared me,” I tell him.
“I just got finished making fun of that girl for getting married. It shouldn’t have scared you too much.” This is true. The one glass of wine I drank went right to my head, and I’m not thinking straight. I don’t feel drunk, but I don’t feel completely sober either. I was not planning to have much tonight, knowing I need to watch myself around Sterling. “Plus, I wouldn’t talk about growing old together until after our first kiss at least.” As if I skipped all levels of drunk stages and went from mildly buzzed to inebriated, a nauseous wave crashes around inside of my gut. I knew this wasn’t a good idea tonight; yet, here I am, queen of not following my own advice.
Jade and Cleary have been sucking face for about ten minutes now, and the old couple contently watching from the other side has not taken their eyes off the scene. It’s mildly creepy.
The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns Page 12