by Heather Lyn
“Kenni, let’s do this again next week. I know we’re both really busy with school vacation coming up, but I want to hang out next weekend. Meet here at the same time?”
“Yeah, sounds good, Aubs. I love you, ya know that?”
“Love you back, biatch!” She gives me a wink and then turns to walk down the sidewalk.
Shaking my head at her, I climb into my car and head back to my apartment. I need to spend the rest of the weekend working on the lesson plans for my kids. Unfortunately, I’ve let this whole Grayson situation get into my head, and it needs to go.
***
After getting home, I change into a pair of comfy sweats and an oversized sweatshirt. Grabbing my work bag, I place all my work folders on my coffee table. When I was driving home, I received a text from Grayson asking if we could talk. I never responded and I don’t plan to. I’m going to need time to think about what I’m going to do. Not wanting to hurt Grayson, or date him, I know I’m in a bit of a predicament because the truth is he really has become my best friend. And I don’t want to lose him as my friend. This is all such a mess.
It takes me the rest of the day to finish my plans for the next couple weeks. I always like to be ahead of schedule, so I did an extra week of work. I ordered dinner from the Chinese place around the corner. Checking the clock, I see that I have just enough time to hop in the shower before it arrives. I pile my hair up into a knot on top of my head and turn the shower on. Hurrying through my routine, I wrap myself up in a fluffy towel. I have just changed into a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt when I hear the doorbell ring, so I hurry to the front door.
While I’m sitting on my couch, eating lo mein and watching television, my cell phone chimes. I grab it off the coffee table and see that it’s yet another text from Grayson.
Grayson: Hey, you. I know you needed some space, but the guys and I are going out tonight. Drinks at Walker’s Taphouse. Wanna come?
Kennedy: Not up for it. Sorry.
There is silence for several minutes. Then his text comes in and tears burn my eyes.
Grayson: I miss you, darlin’.
I throw my phone on the couch next to me, not even bothering to reply. I take another bite of my dinner and find it has lost all appeal to me, so I put the box on the coffee table. Not even bothering with my phone, I shut the television and lights off and head to my bedroom. I grab my Kindle off my nightstand and open the book I’ve been reading. Curling up under the blankets, I try to focus on the book, but I find myself easily distracted. I switch it off and lie down, burying my head under the blankets. However, I’m sure sleep will probably elude me tonight.
CHAPTER 4
Grayson
Staring at my phone, I’m tempted to throw it against the wall. I know Kennedy got my last message; we both have iPhones, so I can see that she read it. Shaking my head, I toss it onto my bed and then head into my bathroom to get ready for tonight. I’m meeting up with Noah and Hunter for drinks at Walker’s Taphouse. It’s our usual hangout with the guys from work, and after that conversation—if it can even be called that—I’m ready for some drinks. And by drinks, I mean straight liquor. Mind-numbing liquor. ‘Get Kennedy the fuck out of my head’ liquor.
After showering, I towel dry my hair and then brush it back off my face. I have a few days’ worth of stubble, but I’m not in the mood to shave. I’m standing in my bedroom with a towel still around my waist when my phone starts ringing. It’s Noah.
“Hey, bro! I’m about to pull in. You just meeting me outside?” I can tell Noah is using the Bluetooth in his car because the roar of his engine is almost too loud to hear him.
“Yeah, man, I’ll meet you outside. No need to come in. See ya.” I drop my phone and find some clothes—my favorite jeans and Chucks, some old band T-shirt. I’ve never been one who gave much thought to what I wear. I shove my wallet in my back pocket and grab my cell phone. Heading into my living room, I hear the sound of a horn beeping from my driveway. Shrugging into my fleece jacket with the fire department’s logo on the back, I lock the front door and head out to Noah’s truck. I hop in the passenger side and tap the roof.
“Let’s go, man. We meeting Hunt there?” I ask.
Noah backs out of my driveway and tells me that Hunter’s already at the bar.
“I guess he got there a few minutes ago. He called to let me know.”
The drive to the bar is silent, and I know that Noah is leaving me alone with my thoughts on purpose. He probably knows that if we get into it now it’ll ruin my mood for the rest of the night. It’s not easy to admit that you’re a complete fucking pussy, but that’s what I am. We pull into the small parking lot of Walker’s Taphouse and head inside, stepping into the bright lights, blaring country music, and ESPN playing on all the televisions. I fucking love this bar. It’s a Saturday night, so of course the place is packed. I look around and try to find Hunter, but I don’t spot him. Noah nods towards an open spot at the bar, so I clap him on the back and we head over to it, each taking a seat on the empty stools as we continue to look around. I lean my elbows on the bar and look up to see Brody Walker heading over to us.
“Hey, y’all! The usual?” We nod at him, and Noah leans over to fist-bump with Brody. He walks away to grab our beers.
The first time we came here, I thought Brody was some biker who just worked behind the bar. He has a large assortment of tats, even some covering his knuckles. He has gauged-out ears and, just like every night we’re in here, he’s in a plaid flannel shirt. Between the tats, the piercings, and his hair gelled back in a makeshift fauxhawk, he doesn’t fit the persona of the person who owns this place. When we first found out he owned the bar, we thought he was trying to pull one over on us. Brody is our age, and he’s had this place for almost three years. Not too many twenty-five-year-old guys decide to just open a business, but it worked out for Brody. Now at the age of twenty-eight, he’s extremely successful. But he’s actually a pretty cool dude, and we usually shoot the shit with him while we’re here. He’s only just brought us our drinks when Hunter comes walking over to us, a baseball hat pulled down low over his brow.
“Hey, dickweeds. Gray, why the sad face? Still got something up your ass?”
Hunter Daniels is one of a kind. That’s the only way he can be described. He’s generally causing a ruckus at the station, cracking wiseass remarks and driving us all batshit. But he’s a damn good firefighter, so we all look past it. Hunt’s actually a funny son of a bitch, and he generally has us all in stitches. He’s also a total jackass.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, sunshine?” I retort, punching him in the shoulder.
“Bend over and I’ll take a look.”
“Fuck you, Daniels.”
“With pleasure.” Hunter leans over to Brody and orders another beer. Noah’s cracking up and shaking his head at us.
Brody puts a beer down on the bar and leans towards Hunter.
“From what I understand, that can get kinda messy. Don’t fuck up my bathroom.” He winks at us, then walks to the other side of the bar. Hunter bursts out laughing, bent over at the waist and holding onto the bar for support.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Hunter reaches for his glass and takes a swig.
“Not even if your life depended on it, asshole,” I point out, laughing along with him.
As I take a sip of my beer, Noah grabs another stool for Hunter and we all take a seat. Hunter may be a pain in the ass, but he’s taking my mind off Kennedy, and that is exactly what I need.
“So, Gray, you still hung up on Kennedy?” Hunter turns to face me.
Well, that didn’t fucking take long.
Noah leans over and smacks Hunter in the chest. “Fuck off, Daniels.”
“Guys, what am I, a total pussy? I don’t give a shit about Kennedy anymore. The girl has been fucking with my head for the last year. I know she wants me, but she won’t admit it. And no offense, but no chick is worth that much fucking torture.” I slam my glass down and signal Br
ody for another beer.
“I don’t know, man. Aubrey’s worth it.” Noah has a huge smile on his face, and while it’s annoying as shit, I’m happy for him. Aubrey is awesome.
“Yeah yeah. Aubrey is amazing, and the sun shines out of her pussy. She makes angels dance and rainbows shit gold. We know.” Hunter is rolling his eyes, and Noah looks like he’s about to go all Hulk on him and beat his ass. Me? I can’t stop laughing.
“Fuck you, Hunter. One, don’t talk about Aubrey’s pussy. That is mine and nobody else’s. Go find your own magnificent pussy. Two, Kennedy would be lucky to have a guy like Gray. She’s just scared and doesn’t know what she wants.”
Hunter goes to reply when Brody interrupts, placing three more beers in front of us.
“Here y’all go. Need anything else? It looked like I was a few seconds away from breaking up a bar fight.” Brody wipes the bar down with a towel, then leans his elbows on it.
“Noah fucking wishes he could take me.” Hunter grabs his new beer with a smile.
“I wish I could take you? Daniels, you’re fucking five-foot-eight. I’m six-foot-three. You fucking wish, dude. You wish.”
Hunter just laughs and the two continue to bicker.
***
A couple hours later I’m completely loaded and ready to head home. Noah stopped drinking a while ago so he could drive, and Hunter’s been nursing the same beer for at least the last forty minutes. Clearly they’re letting me have a pity party for myself tonight, and for once I’m totally okay with that. It seems the more I drank, the angrier I got.
So because I told Kennedy how I feel, she can throw our friendship out the window and start ignoring me? If she doesn’t want to be with me, fine. But to throw away all the good times we’ve had, and she can’t even fucking talk to me? Fuck that.
I’m sitting here stewing in my own frustration when Noah claps me on the back.
“C’mon, Gray. Time to get going. It’s almost midnight, and I’m exhausted.”
I rise from my stool and the room spins a little. I reach out and grab onto Noah’s arm, and he just laughs at me.
“Glad to see you can at least stand. Let’s get you home, buddy.”
I barely remember the drive home or stumbling into my house. Walking into the living room, I toss my keys and wallet on the coffee table, then make my way into the bedroom and strip down to my boxers. I’ve just turned to get into bed when I hear my cell phone ringing from my pants pocket. Through my blurry vision, I grab it and can only just make out Kennedy’s name.
Oh, now it’s convenient to call me? I don’t fucking think so.
I ignore the call and shut the ringer off, then place the phone on my nightstand and crawl into bed, passing out the second my head hits the pillow.
***
I wake up the next morning with a mariachi band playing in my head and the worst case of cotton mouth I’ve ever had. I slowly climb out of bed and head straight for my bathroom. Grabbing my toothbrush, I start cleaning my teeth while I wait for the water to warm up in the shower, then rinse my mouth out and step into the shower. I let the hot water cascade over my sore limbs, hanging my head down between my shoulders.
I need aspirin and several cups of coffee. I’m so glad I don’t have to be at the station today.
Hurrying through my shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and pad out to my kitchen. I quickly wash a couple ibuprofen down with a glass of water and brew a pot of coffee, then pour myself a mug and take it with me into my bedroom. I throw on a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt and go back out to my living room. Plopping onto my sofa, I grab the remote and turn the television on. I’m halfway through my coffee when I remember I don’t have my phone. Placing my mug on the coffee table, I walk to grab it from my bedroom. Remembering I turned off my ringer, I unlock it to see that I have two missed calls, a voice mail, and a handful of texts. They’re all from Kennedy. I decide to start with the voice mail.
”Grayson. Look, I’m sorry that you’re angry with me. You asked me to be honest with you. And I was. I like you, but I don’t want to date you. I don’t want to date anybody. I need you to respect that. If I hurt you, I’m sorry, but those messages were uncalled for.” She takes a deep breath and for a second it sounds as if she’s crying. ”I don’t want to lose you, Grayson. But I can’t be with you the way you’d like. I want you to stay my best friend. Please, Gray.”
I take the phone away from my ear, confusion taking over. What messages? I open my inbox and see that I had a conversation with Kennedy at some point last night. Holy shit.
Grayson: I want to know why, Kennedy?
Kennedy: Grayson, I asked you for some space. This whole thing came out of nowhere, and I don’t feel up to discussing it. I’m sorry.
Grayson: That’s bullshit.
Kennedy: Excuse me?
Grayson: Bullshit. You fucking want me. I see it every time we’re together.
Kennedy: I never said I didn’t like you, Grayson. I said I wasn’t looking to date anyone.
Grayson: When did you become such a cold bitch?
Kennedy: Okay, I’m going to assume that you’re drinking and blame it on the alcohol. Please, don’t push this. Good night, Gray.
Grayson: Fuck you, Kennedy. I’m honest with you, and you can’t do the same. I’m done. You know how many girls would spread their legs for me? I don’t know why I’m wasting my time with someone who clearly isn’t worth it.
Kennedy: I’m sorry, Grayson.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. This did not happen. I did not do that. No. Fucking. Way.
I try refreshing the conversation, but the words are still there. The despicable things I said to my sweet Kennedy are still there. How could I? She’ll never forgive me for this. My pulse races as I quickly navigate to my contacts and call her. It rings once and goes straight to voice mail. I try again and again with the same results. Calling Noah this time, he answers.
“Hey, buddy, how ya feelin’?”
“I’m feeling like I really fucked up.” I start pacing, running a hand through my hair. Coffee cup forgotten, I head out into the living room.
“Too much to drink last night? Gray, we’re almost thirty. You can’t keep guzzling liquor and expect to feel fine the next morning.”
“No. I talked to Kennedy last night.”
“Well that’s good. Y’all work everything out?”
“More like I think I ruined any chance I ever had. I don’t know.” I give Noah the rundown of what her voice mail said, and then after putting him on speakerphone I read him the texts.
“What the fuck, Michaels? Even drunk you should have known that shit wasn’t gonna fly with Kennedy! Dude.” I can hear Aubrey in the background asking why Noah is yelling at me. After some more hushed conversation, she comes on the line.
“Grayson Michaels! How dare you treat my best friend like that! I should give you the ass whooping that you deserve! Seriously, what were you thinking?” Aubrey is this little blonde spitfire, and right now I’m afraid that she may show up on my doorstep and actually kick my ass.
“Aubrey! I wasn’t, obviously! I don’t even remember talking to her. Actually, until I saw her voice mail this morning I didn’t even check my messages. I had no idea what she was talking about, so I went back to my texts.”
“Grayson, I know you were hurt that she didn’t leap into your arms so y’all could live happily ever after, but she must have her reasons.”
“She didn’t hurt me.”
“Grayson, don’t lie to me. I know you.” Aubrey takes a deep breath before she continues. “You and Kenni have been spending all of your time together lately. I get it. I know you want people to think that you’re all about having fun and not settling down, but I know what you want. You want to be with Kenni. Like really be with her.”
“So what?” I can’t keep the attitude out of my tone.
“So what you need to do is apologize. And really mean it. Kenni is incredibly private and closed off. She’s my be
st friend, and I know next to nothing about her past. Her family. Just give it time. I promise she cares about you.”
We hang up a few minutes later and I immediately try to call Kennedy again. Voice mail. Shit. I decide to leave her a message.
“Kennedy. I’m sorry, okay? I was drunk. None of that meant anything. You know I care for you, darlin’. I just don’t understand why you won’t talk to me. I’m so sorry for what I said last night. Please call me back.”
Fuck.
The only girl I want a future with and I may have just blown it.
***
A couple hours later I’m vegged out on my couch, beer in hand while watching the Braves game. I sent Kennedy flowers with a card apologizing again. I have no idea how to do this. I’ve never really dated someone, at least not seriously. I’ve had a few one-night stands that turned into a couple weeks of messing around, but it was nothing more than sex. And the girls always knew that. In one week Kennedy has completely turned my world on its side.
I head into my kitchen to grab another beer, popping the top as I head back to the game. My older sister Suzy texted about an hour ago, asking if I wanted to get together for lunch today. I’m meeting her at around one at our favorite diner, not too far from the fire station. Glancing at the clock, I notice I have to get ready soon. Instead of finishing it, I dump my beer down the sink and go to my bedroom. Since I already showered I just run a brush through my hair and get dressed. Slipping my feet into my Chucks, I decide to watch some more of the game before I leave.
The radio silence of my cell phone doesn’t put my mind at ease about Kennedy. I miss her.
CHAPTER 5
Kennedy
Grayson Michaels is the biggest dickface in the world. Did he really think those beautiful pink roses with baby’s breath would make me forgive him? I want to. Deep down I know he was just being a drunk jerk, but I can’t help being hurt. He may have said it like an asshole, but that’s what he meant. Don’t they say that drunk words are sober thoughts? I have no idea what to do. Luckily, I’m meeting Aubrey in just a few minutes for our Saturday lunch. I’m hoping she can help me with everything. I’ve actually been thinking about opening up to her. Maybe I’ll feel better finally telling someone about the disaster that is my family.