Love Bites

by Rachel K. Burke

  “Well…” Jasmine’s voice had now turned from gossipy to guilty. “I hope you’re not mad, but after this happened, I told a few people that he was one of the reasons you left.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did. But now people understand why you quit, you know? I mean, you liked working here…”

  “I loved working there. But Jas, I’m here now. I can’t go running back to LA every time a good opportunity arises.”

  “And you can’t go running home every time a bad one arises, either.”

  Ouch. She had a point.

  “Let me think about it,” I said. “Give me some time to explore the job market here. Then… we can talk.”

  “That’s fair,” she agreed. “In the meantime, I’ll put in a good word.”

  After I hung up the phone, I reverted to my original position at the kitchen table. I sat down and looked at the career site that was open on the laptop in front of me.

  Well, that was fast. I’d heard once that if you asked the universe for something, it delivered. I just didn’t think it had a four-day turnaround time.

  Los Angeles, CA

  April 2009

  We spent the entire week together. Every day, every non-working hour, David and I were together. And when we weren’t together, I was thinking about us being together.

  I had never felt this way about anyone in my life. Ever. I couldn’t get him out of my head. My apartment suddenly felt too big without him, like it was missing something. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I just sat around in a daze, counting down the minutes until I could see him again. Waiting to feel complete. Whole.

  I knew it was wrong, but it didn’t feel wrong. We hadn’t crossed any physical lines. We were just two people hanging out, watching movies, eating food, enjoying each other’s company. David was fun. He made me laugh. He made me happy.

  Of course, there was the small fact that I was beginning to fall head over heels for the guy, and for that, I probably should have stayed the hell away from him. But I couldn’t. Because if I was being completely honest with myself, I couldn’t remember anyone ever making me feel the way he did.

  By the time Friday rolled around, I started to get nervous. Renee was flying home on Sunday, which meant I had exactly two days to come up with a plan. I wasn’t sure whether I should be honest with her about spending the week with David, or if I should refrain from telling her, since she was going to break up with him anyway. But what if she didn’t? What if they stayed together? And what did I expect to happen if they did break up?

  My head was spinning. If they stayed together, there was no way I could be around them. And if they broke up, there was no way that David and I could be together. Either way, it was a lose-lose.

  Ultimately, there was only one option. Honesty.

  I picked up my cell and dialed Renee’s number. She had called me the night before, but I had been out with David and still had no idea what I was going to tell her. My heart started to pound.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  “Hey. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “I spent most the week helping my mom with funeral plans before the actual funeral. It hasn’t been the most exciting visit.” She sighed. “How are things with you? Did you have a good date with that Vincent guy?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “Turns out he was married.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish.” I took this as my entrance cue. “But actually, David stopped over later that night to get some things, so he tried to cheer me up.”

  “Aw, that was nice of him.”

  “Yeah, it was.” I paused, trying to force my voice to sound casual. “He said you’ve seemed distant lately. I think he knows you’re going to break up with him.”

  “Huh?” She sounded distracted. “Oh, yeah. I was actually talking to my mom about that last night. She thinks I’m being too picky.”

  That wasn’t surprising. In a town the size of Rockland, there weren’t many dating options. If you weren’t married by the age of 25 to your high-school sweetheart, something was wrong with you. So I could understand why Mrs. Evans was confused as to why her daughter would throw away a handsome single bachelor without thinking twice. She was afraid Renee would never find anyone else.

  “And what do you think?” I asked.

  “Honestly, I haven’t even had time to think about it. I didn’t realize how much work goes into a funeral. We had to meet with the funeral directors, go over the obituary statements, pick out a casket…”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” she said in a sad voice. “It was awful. I went with my mom and my uncle. The funeral director showed us all the caskets, and he’s listing off these different prices and materials, and I could tell my mom and uncle were hardly even paying attention. Finally, my uncle said, ‘To be honest, I don’t like any of them.’ Then he left the room.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s trying to keep it together, but I think he’s taking it the hardest.”

  My heart sank. I had known Renee’s Uncle John since we were kids. I didn’t want to think about him burying his father.

  My heart was also sunk because I had spent the entire week with my best friend’s boyfriend, while she was back home picking out caskets for her dead grandfather.

  I was a terrible person.

  “My uncle and aunt are coming over tonight,” she continued. “We’re having dinner at my parents’ house…”

  I heard a muffled voice in the background, then Renee came back on the phone. “Sorry, my mom needs me downstairs.” She lowered her voice again. “I can’t wait to come home.”

  “Me too,” I lied. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

  As I hung up the phone, I felt a wave of disappointment. My attempted honesty had failed, my conscience was as guilty as it could get, and I still had no idea how Renee really felt about David.

  And more importantly, what the hell was I going to tell her when she got home?

  Chapter 11

  Day twelve of the job-hunt. A week had passed and I hadn’t received one response to my résumé. I was starting to get desperate. At this point, I was willing to take anything just to have an excuse to get out of the house.

  I was officially starting to go insane. I had been snowed-in for days, was bored of the internet, and was beginning to have full-on conversations with myself.

  Despite the number of positions I had applied to, I kept coming back to the fashion job. I’d re-read the description a million times, envisioning myself as a trendy photographer slash marketing guru at an über-sheik fashion company in the city. In my fantasy, the office had giant glass windows, the walls were painted an assortment of bright colors, and everyone had eclectic wardrobes and accessories. I would ride the train to work, clutching an oversized latte, as I absorbed the vibrant rush of the city.

  Every other applicant’s fantasy, no doubt.

  The sound of my cell phone ringing put an unexpected halt to my daydream. My heart leaped when I noticed it was an unknown Boston number. Maybe it was them! The fashion company! Or any potential job that would give me a reason to leave my house!

  “Hello?” I answered in my best friendly-yet-professional voice.

  “Justine?” It was a man’s voice. Deep. Sexy. Vaguely familiar.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Dylan.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t even hide the disappointment.

  “You’re still waiting for that guy to call, aren’t you?”

  I had to laugh. Dylan was so direct. I’d never met anyone so blunt, yet so likeable at the same time. “Actually, I was hoping it was a job I’d applied for,” I confessed. “How’d you get my number, anyway?”

  “I took it from Renee’s phone. I was hoping we could get together this week, if you’re free. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Um, okay,” I said hesitantly. “Does Renee know?”

  “No, and I want to keep it
that way.”

  “No way,” I said. “I’m not lying to her. You know what happened the last time I lied to her about something involving her boyfriend.”

  I heard Dylan chuckle on the other end. “Relax. I want to talk to you about planning a baby shower for her.”

  “Oh!” God, I really was a terrible friend. Renee was almost seven months pregnant and I hadn’t given a second thought to her shower.

  “I have some ideas I want to run by you,” Dylan said. “Are you busy on Saturday?”

  The thought was almost laughable. I wasn’t busy ever. Even grocery shopping sounded fun right now. Anything to be around people.

  “Saturday works for me,” I said.

  “Great. Meet me at Highland Kitchen at noon. We’ll go over it then.”

  Before I could answer, he’d already hung up.

  Los Angeles, CA

  April 2009

  On Friday night, David invited me to his apartment. I think he wanted to switch it up since we’d spent the majority of the week either at my place or out at bars. But for some reason, the thought of being at his house made me feel worse than I already did. Like I was trespassing on Renee and David’s private space. David was used to hanging at my apartment, and bars were a common, social territory. But something about the two of us at his house didn’t feel right.

  I swallowed my guilt as I walked through his front door, expecting to find dozens of happy photos of David and Renee propped on the mantle. Luckily, David wasn’t much of a decorator. His living room consisted of nothing but a beige sofa, a matching recliner, and a wooden coffee table. Then, of course, there was the gigantic flat-screen TV that took up the majority of the room. A typical bachelor pad.

  By the time I got there, David was already sprawled out on the couch in a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He brown hair was matted to his head, like he’d just taken off his hat, and he was holding a shot glass in his right hand. I gave him a questioning look.

  “You ever eat fireball candies as a kid?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Good.” He pointed to a brown bottle on his coffee table. The label read “Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey.”

  “No way,” I protested. To me, whiskey had always been a guy’s drink.

  He sat upright and poured a shot of brown liquid into another shot glass. “Trust me, it tastes exactly like those fireball candies. It doesn’t taste anything like whiskey.”

  I took the glass reluctantly from his hand and sniffed it. It smelled exactly like cinnamon candy. I eyed the glass suspiciously for a minute, then downed the shot in one gulp.

  “Oh, wow,” I said, wiping my slightly watered eyes. Despite the spiciness, it was probably the most delicious shot I’d ever had. “That is good.”

  “Told you,” he said, pouring us each another shot. We clinked our glasses together and downed the next one.

  And the next.

  And the next.

  Finally, somewhere around midnight, the Fireball bottle was empty and David was sitting unusually close to me on the couch. It seemed as though the more we drank, the smaller the space between us became. He leaned over and passed me the final shot. Our knees were touching. My leg began to shake. I raised my glass to his in a final toast.

  “To new friendships,” I declared.

  “Friendships,” he repeated, smirking. Then he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “But what if I don’t want to be just friends?”

  I could smell his cinnamon breath, just inches from my face. His breath was warm in my ear. My heart began to race and I knew something was about to happen. Everything inside of me was gravitating toward him, like a magnet. I felt that tingly, happy drunk feeling buzzing all over my entire body, and all I wanted to do was lean over and kiss him.

  David looked up at me, and even through hazy eyes I could still see the intensity behind them. He reached out and took my hand in his. I felt warm all over.

  “Justine,” he slurred. “I’m not just saying this because I’ve been drinking, but… I think I’m really falling for you.”

  I couldn’t think of a reply. My head felt like it was in a cloud. I was floating somewhere high up above us. It was the one thing I needed to hear, but the last thing I wanted to hear. Because, despite the fact that I felt the exact same way, he was still my best friend’s boyfriend.

  Unfortunately, the logical part of my brain that was supposed to remind me of that was buried underneath vast quantities of whiskey.

  I stared at him for a long time, but I couldn’t make my mouth move. What could I say? That I loved the way his eyes widened when he looked at me? That I loved his mischievous little smile? That he made me feel as if love really did exist? That he was on my mind every waking minute we weren’t together?

  I couldn’t. Because deep in my heart, there was someone I loved more than him. And even if she was 3,000 miles away, I could never do that to her.

  David crinkled his brows together, searching my face for some sort of response. “I mean it,” he said, resting his hand on my knee. “All I could think about this week was being with you. And when Renee comes home, that’s not going to stop. Those feelings aren’t going to go away.” He lifted his gaze to mine. “I really think I’m falling in love with you.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the stinging sensation between my legs as his hand traveled up my knee to my thigh.

  “But what about Renee?” I asked in a small voice.

  “I’ve never felt this way about Renee,” he said. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone.”

  Me neither, I thought to myself.

  “And you said it yourself, she’s going to break up with me anyway.” He nudged me playfully.

  “Well then, we’ll have to wait.” My voice was even smaller now. I was caving. We both knew it. I could feel myself pulling closer and closer to him, staring at his chest, his arms, picturing them around me. I wanted him so badly it hurt.

  We stared in each other’s eyes for a long time without speaking, until it felt like the heat between us had spiked the room temperature a hundred degrees. Finally, he threw me backwards on the couch and climbed on top of me.

  “I don’t want to wait,” he said, burying his head in my neck. “I can’t wait.”

  Oh God, I thought. This can’t be happening.

  Before I had time to process it, his mouth was on mine. He tasted like cinnamon and heat and everything I’d ever wanted. I wrapped his tongue around mine, sucked on his lips, released everything that had been bottled up inside me since the minute we’d met.

  I can’t do this, I thought. I should stop.

  I have to stop.

  It seemed like it was happening in slow motion. His hand up my shirt. His lips on my neck, my chest. My shirt on the floor.

  This is so wrong.

  This isn’t happening.

  His hands down my pants. His desire. Pressed against my leg. My body tingling everywhere.

  God, I wanted him. Every part of me wanted him. It was like an unstoppable force had taken over. I knew it was wrong. I knew I had to stop.

  I needed to stop.

  But I couldn’t stop.

  And before I knew it, my legs were wrapped around him and I was being carried to the bedroom.

  The bedroom of my best friend’s boyfriend.

  Guilt is always multiplied with a hangover. Alcohol not only impairs your judgment and your memory, it’s also a depressor. So, in other words, any regrettable drunk action always feels one-hundred percent more regrettable the next day.

  When I awoke in the morning, it took me a minute to realize where I was. White walls… navy bedspread… not much evidence otherwise. Then I looked over and saw David’s sleeping face, buried in a navy-and-white-striped pillow.

  It all came back to me in one giant wave. The whiskey. David telling me he loved me. His hands on me. Carrying me to the bedroom.

  Oh God.

  I was going to be sick.

&nb
sp; I crept quietly out of bed, bolted to the bathroom, and threw up. I knew the whiskey was only partially to blame. The disgust I had for myself was far more nauseating.

  How could I have done this? To Renee of all people? She was the last person in the world I’d ever want to hurt, and I’d committed the ultimate betrayal, all because I just wanted someone to love me.

  Sadly, I did have someone who loved me. But apparently, she wasn’t enough.

  I thought back to all the times Renee had come to my defense. When my mom found a joint in my backpack and she took the rap for it. Letting me borrow money she didn’t have for things I didn’t need. Helping me with my UCLA application so we could move away together. She had always been the first person to come to my rescue.

  I leaned over and threw up again.

  Luckily, David’s bathroom was stocked with Listerine, so I managed to pull myself together into a presentable human being again. I swished the minty liquid around in my mouth, swept my disheveled hair back into a ponytail, and stood up to face myself in the mirror.

  To anyone else, I looked like an attractive, petite brunette with wide, blue eyes, a button nose, and a girl-next-door smile.

  To me, I looked like a girl who was weak, selfish, and disgustingly disloyal. I had done the unthinkable, all because I couldn’t control myself enough to stay loyal to my best friend.

  I crept back into David’s bed, trying my hardest not to wake him. Half of me wanted to slip my clothes on, sneak out the front door, and pretend this never happened, but I knew we had to talk.

  David stirred beside me and his eyes fluttered open. I waited for his reaction to mirror mine, but all he did was smile and wrap his arms around me in a half-hug.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” he mumbled, cradling his head in my neck.

  When I didn’t respond, he looked up at me with sleepy eyes. Although he looked adorable in his half-conscious state, all my feelings for him had temporarily subsided. I just stared at him, unable to speak.

  “Oh no,” he said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  I lay back on the bed and rested my head on the pillow, turning to face him. “David, I… we…” I sighed. “We should never have…”