by Kat T. Masen
Thankfully, he’s not been around much, and on his minimal time off, he sent me a text saying he was driving to his dad’s place and spending a couple of nights there.
It’s better this way. I need my alone time, and Drew needs some quality time with his dad, who has been complaining that he never sees his son anymore.
Noah proved to be just what I needed for that night, and that night only. I don’t see myself pursuing a relationship with him, and I’m not one to maintain a fuckbuddy. Just to make it clear, I made sure he was aware of my intentions. Silly me. Tell me what guy would have said no to a one-night fling. We had fun that night, he gave me an orgasm, and it scratched that itch that needed a good old scratching and I’m happy about that fact.
The week has gone by fast, and working on that new project has taken up most of my time. Mr. Becker’s been in a good mood showing me the ropes and spending the time to train me in new areas of the business. I welcome the learning experience hoping this is the foot in the door I need. With a positive outcome, I inquired into furthering my study, just for that additional advantage, and to make myself more marketable should my career lead me in a different path.
Zoey Richards is finally making a comeback!
The excitement of throwing myself into the deep end is both thrilling and exhausting. Most nights I stay back, working late, wanting to prove myself to Mr. Becker. At night, I’ve been chilling in the apartment with a glass of wine and reading over my notes for the day. The peace and quiet are exactly what I need, and not having Drew around has given me exactly that.
I did, however, make sure he’s still going to attend the wedding as my plus one. He’s not the type to make empty promises, and toward the end of the week, everything between us has reverted to normal. Just like it always has.
He had driven back from his dad’s house and is in a much better mood. As usual, he talked endlessly about the cars he helped his dad fix in his shop and was quick to point out how his dad was disappointed he hadn’t given Betty the attention she needed, and as a result of that, her engine was on its way out. I don’t care for car talk, yet I politely indulged in the conversation so as not to cause any further conflict between us.
On Saturday morning, I wake up early to do my hair and makeup. I’d spent the night watching this tutorial on YouTube about how to brighten my eyes and sat at my dresser carefully stroking the eyeshadow as the clip showed me. They make it seem so easy. My clumsy hand has me removing the eyeshadow several times and starting over. By the fifth time, I look decent enough and not like a two-dollar hooker auditioning for a beauty pageant.
For most formal occasions, I leave my hair out. Today, I decide to do something a little different by styling my hair into a fancy side bun. Yes, another tutorial. With my hair and makeup done, I stare back at myself in the mirror. Not bad. The eyeshadow has brought out the green in my eyes, and with my hair neatly placed in a bun, my neckline is exposed showing my pale skin.
Inside my jewelry box lies a pearl necklace my mom gave me that used to belong to her. It’s an heirloom—a beautiful classic piece that will go perfect against my navy dress. I carefully place the necklace on, then further accessorize with some small diamond earrings.
Since Mia’s wedding starts at midday and the reception isn’t until five, I choose two outfits to wear. A subtle dress for the church, and what I like to call my ‘party dress’ for the reception. Something about low plunging backs at the church simply doesn’t seem appropriate.
I walk out to the living room where Drew is fiddling with his cufflinks. Letting out a whistle, he looks up, and instantly, something in his eyes changes. They soften, yet there’s something else I can’t quite figure out. His stare lingers making me slightly uncomfortable. My gaze moves to the floor, and when I look up again, he’s still staring at me with a beautiful smile across his face. My heart starts to beat erratically, and my breathing hitches slightly until I realize it’s the butterflies swirling around in my stomach making me so nervous.
Butterflies—I haven’t felt them in forever.
Ignore them. They have been hiding in captivity and are merely desperate for attention.
Drew looks incredibly handsome. His dark charcoal suit is tailored perfectly to his physique, and underneath he wears a simple, white, collared shirt with a slight sheen. The top button is undone, as Drew hates to wear ties. With his hair slicked to the side, he wears his contacts along with a freshly shaven face.
He looks ridiculously yummy. Wait, did you just call your roomie ‘yummy?’
“Zoey,” he murmurs, leaving me almost breathless by the call of my name.
I move in closer and lift his arm helping him with his cufflink. The battle to keep my eyes fixed on this task proves difficult as the heavenly smell of his masculine scent invades my senses. I fumble like a child with placing his cufflink firmly in position. What is it about men’s cologne that makes your entire body flutter in delight? I want to devour him.
Get a grip!
“You clean up good, Baldwin,” I say with ease, beaming as his face mirrors mine.
“You look beautiful,” he responds, eyes still fixed on mine. “Nice pearl necklace.”
“Was that a dirty joke?”
“Do you want it to be?” He switches his voice to a husky tone, his eyebrow raised, poking fun at my question.
“Funny.” I chuckle lightly. “Wait till you see my next dress. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”
“You wouldn’t believe how dirty my imagination can get, Richards.” He glances back at me with a wicked smile and does that thing with his lips again, but for some reason, it doesn’t bother me. Quite the opposite as every roll, flick, and slither of his tongue against his lips has me drawn to him.
What the hell? Ignore that, Zoey. Shake it off. It’s like some vortex trying to suck you in.
Nervously, and trying to control my stutter, I ask him, “Ready to go, plus one?”
Drew opens the front door and politely waits for me to pass. “After you. Mademoiselle.”
***
Mia looks gorgeous in her satin gown which hugs her figure nicely. It has long sleeves and a low back with a million buttons. The sheer fabric sits beautifully against her Asian complexion. According to Mia, it took a year for Troy’s aunties in Greece to make this dress. I can see now why Mia was so paranoid about gaining some pounds. There was no room for any weight fluctuation.
I’ve been to several weddings but never one this long. With Troy’s Greek background, the mass is performed in Greek and English. Two hours feels like an eternity and reiterates the fact that I should never marry a Greek man.
Eloping to Vegas with Elvis waiting at the altar—that’s my perfect wedding.
I spend most of the two hours taking in the beautiful architecture. The church is a hundred years old, and the entire building is still in its original condition. The pitched ceilings are made out of old oak wood with hanging pendant lights to brighten the space. The main area is adorned in gold—plenty of it. Yet, even with its age, everything is pristine.
Mia and Troy have added their own personal touch with lilac satin draped along each pew and fresh lilies intricately tied to each row. Beside me, Drew twitches his nose from the scent of the flowers. Occasionally, he suffers from hay fever, and given the number of flowers, I wouldn’t be surprised if my plus one bails on the reception.
Jesus, the priest needs to hurry up.
Oh my God, Zoey, don’t say that in church.
I’m going to hell.
When the final applause erupts, I welcome the end with an overenthusiastic clap. Mia walks down the aisle with Troy as the guests smile in adoration. I can see the weight lifting off her shoulders. She welcomes the congratulatory response and beams as they make their way outside. Waiting for people to exit our pew, I scan the church until my eyes lock with another pair of eyes staring right back at me.
Did I just see?
No, your imagination is seriously on crack or so
mething. It’s the two hours of being trapped inside a church with hundreds of other people, some who could do with a bit of deodorant.
Fresh air. You need some fresh air.
The eyes continue to stare at me with curiosity, then slowly, moments later, a gentle smile spreads across his face. The same face that has tormented me since the day I met him.
It’s Jess.
With every breakup, there is this curiosity—or perhaps more like fear—of the first time you see your ex. There’s a checklist for the best scenario you can hope to achieve. You know, look your best and act like the mature one who has moved on with someone better. Be able to smile and put the past behind you.
So, I look fabulous. Well, at least my dress does. I’ve gained extra pounds thanks to the jerk.
It’s a wedding. No other occasion could have me looking like a show pony, so that’s a positive point.
In my head, our song, The Flame by Cheap Trick is playing like a broken record. My heart is beating erratically, and I’m on the verge of a panic attack. How is this even happening, and why didn’t Mia say anything to me? And worst yet, why do I suddenly miss him?
I try to push my way faster through the crowd, rudely motioning for everyone to hurry along.
“Zoey,” Drew snaps, turning around as I push him. “What the hell is wrong with you? There’s an old lady in front of me.”
I hold onto Drew’s back, forcing him to move quicker. “Hurry up!”
The old lady has a walking stick and latches onto an older man. Sure, I feel pathetic, but the thought of having to talk to Jess again makes it all the worse. There is nothing worse than running into your ex, especially at a wedding when the primary focus is love.
I’ve given up on the lady and dragged Drew in the opposite direction escaping down the side of the church.
“What’s going on?” he questions while attempting to hold me back.
“I need to pee. Really bad.”
Outside, the crowds are congratulating the newly wedded couple. There’s time to do that later. I convince Drew to take me home, which luckily, is only a couple of blocks away.
The whole way home, I make up a lie about busting to use the restroom because I drank too much water before the mass. Drew doesn’t ask any questions and retreats to his room once we arrive back home. The reception isn’t for another three hours, so I head over to Gigi’s apartment for some much-needed advice and abandoning Drew because I know how he feels about Jess. He made that abundantly clear when we broke up.
“Right, you said it was an emergency?”
Gigi pulls herself out of her tangled pose. With her yoga mat positioned in the center of the room, Patti and Gloria are sprawled out on the couch watching her intently. Diana is hiding underneath the television unit, eyes glaring at me. Stupid cat, such a fucking diva.
In the background, the music is playing the Pointer Sisters, and Gigi is dressed in her one-piece hot-pink spandex.
Oh, now that’s a camel toe if ever I’ve seen one.
“It is an emergency. It was Jess! The guy who screwed me over even though I was madly in love with him. The same guy who said we would have a family and live in a big fancy house by the beach. Promised me the world,” I exaggerate.
“But he lived in a shack, right?”
“What?” I ask, sidetracked. “Point is, he was my prince. Yeah, he rode in on a motorcycle instead of a horse and didn’t have a dollar to his name, plus he smoked weed and spent all his wages on booze, but I loved him.”
“I understand, doll. Although all my exes are resting with the Lord Himself, I can’t say I’ve been in your position. However, creating a relaxed and calm environment with no animosity within each other’s space will alleviate the stress you’re experiencing right now.”
What the hell does that even mean?
I stare back at Gigi, confused by her advice. “What about that guy you dated… the one who looked like he could have been your son?”
“Oh, doll. That’s not an ex. That was a fling. What your generation calls ‘friends with benefits.’”
“Gigi, friends with benefits is a friend you have sex with but with the understanding that there is no romantic attachment, and you’re free to see other people.”
“Oh.” She sighs. “Well, he made me feel young and showed me a thing or two. That’s it.”
I shake my head, completely lost. “Uh huh. Okay, so what do I do?”
“You act like the mature one. You’ve moved on, and don’t let him think he has any effect on you. Don’t look back, only forward, doll. Bad seeds like Jess have a tormented aura surrounding them. It’s difficult for them to be at peace with themselves without harming others.”
“Or…” I say with eagerness, “… I get Drew to pretend we’re dating. That’ll really stir Jess up. He hated Drew.”
Gigi immediately frowns at my idea. “Do you think that’s a wise idea? And what if Drew won’t do that?”
It’s the best idea I’ve had in a very long time. I may have gained a few pounds since we broke up, but the black satin dress I plan to wear to the reception will be the weapon I need. Hot, sexy, and will show him exactly what he’s been missing all this time.
“Trust me… I’ll get him to do that.”
***
“What? No way. Zoey have you lost your mind?”
“C’mon, it’s just one night,” I beg.
“I can’t stand the guy. And why didn’t you tell me he was at the church?” Drew grits, taking a long sip from his bottled water.
“Because you said you can’t stand the guy. Look, he’s a douche. I just wanna get him back, and he hated you,” I half admit.
Drew puts his jacket on and searches the room for his keys. “What do I get out of this?”
“Seeing him suffer.”
“Or perhaps a beating?”
“Don’t be such a pussy.”
“I’m not being a pussy. You’ve gotten your revenge. You’ve moved on. I just don’t understand why you need to do this.”
It’s time to call the big guns in. Issue the ultimate bribe to get him on my side. This is the only perk about Drew being a manwhore. The manwhore status may attract beautiful sexy women, but it also attracts crazed stalkers.
“Remember Angela?”
He stops mid-step and cringes, placing his keys back down. “Yes, I know what you’re going to say.”
“And remind me of what lengths I had to go to for you?”
“You had to pretend I left the country because she was romantically attached.”
“Ha,” I snort. “She was stalking you.”
Defeated, he sits on the couch and rubs his face, annoyed at my brilliant plan. His silence carries on for minutes, then finally he opens his eyes and answers, “Fine, I’ll do it. But this better not hinder my chances of hooking up tonight.”
My stomach churns at the thought of Drew taking someone home. Let it go. You’ve got bigger things to worry about.
“Promise it won’t. And if it does, I’ll screw you,” I joke.
His elbows are resting on his knees with head bowed down with a wide grin spread across his face. “That’s a dangerous promise, Zo. Plus, I don’t think you can handle me.”
Cocky bastard!
“Uh huh, whatever, lil’ peewee. Let’s get going, or we’ll be late.”
Chapter Ten
Drew
I didn’t expect this reaction.
It caught me off guard the moment she walked into our living room wearing that gorgeous dress. I don’t even remember how it looks or even what color it is right now.
My vision’s fixated on her, and her alone. Breathtakingly beautiful, and nothing she wears, or anything she says can change that.
And if nothing happens between us, and our worlds are destined to remain apart, I will forever remember the way she makes me feel at this very moment.
The way my stomach flips.
The way my heart does this weird fucking skipping thing.
I can’t look away, no matter how hard I try, even when she catches me gazing at her. There’s just something about her today that makes me see her in a completely different light. I only see this beautiful woman, a woman who deserves the world. She deserves to be loved and adored.
And how quickly my admiration flew out the window when she told me who was at the church.
He’s back, the jerk who gives us good guys a bad rep. Okay, so maybe I don’t have the best rep. But I don’t go around treating women like yesterday’s trash, especially the ones I’ve been romantically involved with for a year.
I’m gullible enough to believe Zoey needed to use the restroom, which is why we raced home. And so, I was blindsided when she brought up Jess being at the church, and worse yet, her nonsensical plan to pretend we’re a couple just to anger him.
It has disaster written all over it.
But like always, she has that whole Angela debacle hanging over my head, and I’m just her little bitch who bows down like a pathetic dog.
Angela—the thorn in my side.
Every man’s worst nightmare.
Angela was a psychotic maniac who staged a fake pregnancy to get me to settle down. Apart from Zoey, she had major trust issues with any woman who stepped foot near me. At first, I thought I was lucky to score a hot chick who had her head screwed on straight—stunning body, great career, and a stable family.
Then, the alarm bells started ringing. She would turn up at my work almost every shift, certain I was fucking another colleague. My cell would constantly disappear, and later, I found out it was because she would raid my messages, looking for anything incriminating. She would constantly stalk my social media and bully any woman who commented on my page which, in turn, she would cyberstalk.