Jenn weeps or pretends to weep or is laughing. I don’t know. She’s doing something though.
“But he loves you,” she says.
“No, I don’t think he does. I think he loves Sasha because she’s like a butterfly aficionado or something.”
“You can be a butterfly fish and taco too.”
“I guess. I do love tacos.”
“See, that’s why he loves you.”
“Who?”
“My brother.”
“Oh yeah, him. He loves Sasha.” I wave her off. Please. Her brother is still totally in love with his ex. And there was no spark between us. I need sparks. “Sorry, Jenn, but it’s not happening.”
“Listen to me.” She cups her hands over my cheeks. “When he gets here tomorrow, give him another chance. He needs someone to help him forget all about that stupid Sasha.”
“Okay.” I yawn, and Jenn instantly catches my yawn.
“Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise,” I say, already forgetting what it is I’m promising.
“Wanna go upstairs and watch TV?” She grabs the whiskey bottle, walks over toward the staircase, and frowns. “Oh, no. It’s empty. You drank it all.”
“I’m sorry.” I feel awful and my shoulders drop. Poor Jenn needs more, and I drank it all. I suck. Wait. I perk back up. “It’s okay. I can just text my brother to bring us some.”
“He would do that?” Jenn is happy again. So am I. “Even though it’s like two hours to get here?”
“Yeah, no problem. He totally would. He loves doing stuff for me. Hang on, where’s my phone?” I stumble around searching and finally find it under the couch.
Me: Cab iu bringing watermelon up here?
Jax: Please stop texting me. It’s very late and you are obviously drunk. Go to bed.
“He’s on his way.” I thrust my hand forward to high-five Jenn and miss.
“Yay! Ow!” She holds her nose and laughs. When she removes her hand a stream of red gushes from her nostrils, dripping down her face.
“Holy shit!” I scream.
“What? Is it bleeding?” she asks, and some blood actually gets into her mouth. She blinks really fast while she waits for me to answer.
“No. Um. You’re good.” I bite down on my fingernail. “But like, maybe you could use like a tissue or something.”
Jenn reaches up and runs her hand through the blood. She screams when she sees her bloody fingers.
“Ahhhh! Fuck!” She runs into the kitchen with me right behind her. I reach the paper towels first and don’t even rip one off, I just hand her the entire roll. “Thanks.” She presses it up to her nose and holds it there. “Gret rice,” she mumbles through the thick roll.
I’m fluent in drunk and run to the freezer to get ice.
“Oh. My. God.” I stop and stare in awe. It’s a cinnamon miracle. “Jenn, look.” I point a finger at the glowing angel of fire hidden inside. Fireball. A full bottle, chilled and waiting.
“Oh. My. God. Your brother probably put it there.” She removes the paper towel roll from her face. The blood has already stopped gushing, but her face is covered in smeared red streaks. I lean in for a closer look. It doesn’t look swollen or anything.
“I don’t think it’s broken,” I say to her. But what the hell do I know? I’m not a fucking doctor.
“Hey, I just got the best idea,” she says. “I should marry your brother.”
“That would be awesome, but he’d probably say no because of, ya know, Paisley and that whole baby thing.”
“Oh yeah. That sucks.” Jenn forgets about her nose and about the ice. She twists the cap off the new bottle and pours a very large glassful. “Here, come on, let’s go.” She hands the glass to me and takes a swig straight from the bottle. I follow her as she returns to our quest to go upstairs, using her elbow to click off random light switches as we pass them heading toward the bedrooms.
It feel likes forever until we get to her room. I still can’t get over how huge this place is. Her bedroom is so spacious, painted pale yellow with a really high ceiling. It’s so big.
“Echo,” I shout, but my voice doesn’t return; it isn’t that big. I take a gulp of the Fireball and twirl around the large space. “Look at me, I’m a ballerina.”
Shit. No I’m not. Very dizzy. No more twirling.
Jenn turns on the TV and knocks over her lamp on her way to the bed. I’m not sure if she actually shut it off or broke it; either way, it gets dark in the room except for the glow of the television. I fall back into the bed next to her. It’s so comfy and soft. I feel dreamy. Drunk and dreamy. It’s the best feeling. If only I had someone to share it with. Not Jenn. Someone with a penis.
Oh, Henry.
Maybe I should give him another chance. He can’t stay in love with Sasha forever. What if Henry is my true love, and I just need to try harder? And if he doesn’t love me, it’s okay, we can just do it. I’m cool with that too.
Why am I in the mood for a candy bar?
“Shoot. I have to pee.” Jenn gets up from the bed and zigzags her way over to the bathroom off her room, slamming the door behind her.
A new stream of light enters through the window. I get up from her bed and pull back one of the translucent curtains for a better look. Headlights are pulling into the long driveway. Jenn said no one else was coming tonight. Henry said he’d be here tomorrow, but maybe he changed his mind and came early? For me.
Aw.
Jenn returns, eyes closing, ready to crash hard.
“Someone’s here,” I say, still unable to get a good look at the person. Is it Henry? My whiskey-soaked hormones are hoping it is.
She walks over and rests her head on my shoulder and looks out the window with me.
“It’s my brother,” she says with a yawn and then drops down to the bed. Her eyes shut, and she’s out for the count.
But not me, I just got a second wind.
Henry is here.
Whiskey-Fueled Affection
I can’t find any of the light switches. None. I feel my way through the great hall of this place and grab onto the handrail when I find the staircase, taking each step slow and steady.
I’m coming for ya, Henry.
The lock jiggles on the front door, and I follow the sound. Do I jump out and yell surprise or ambush him with some whiskey-fueled affection?
I think we all know the answer to that question.
I make it to the door and wait; he’s still not in. The lock is stuck or something. I twist the bolt to help him. There’s a thump against the steel door.
“What the hell?” he says.
Did I lock it instead of unlock it? Shit, I have to unlock it. Once again, I turn the lock to open it.
Another thump and still no Henry.
“What’s going on? Jenn, is that you?” he says through the door. “Can you please stop turning the lock? I’m trying to come in.”
“Sorry,” I shout, and back away a few steps, suppressing a giggle. Maybe my help is not needed.
The door finally opens. The shadow of Henry’s broad frame fills the doorway.
“Jenn?” he questions, stepping inside.
“No, not Jenn, it’s me.” I walk right up to him and wrap my arms around his neck.
“Me?” is the last word to pass his lips before mine land on them. And it’s weird. His lips stay tightly pressed while mine search, wriggle, and even at one point lick.
Nothing.
“You don’t like me?” It’s a disappointed whisper as I drop back down to flat feet.
“I don’t even know you,” he whispers back.
“Let’s change that.” I bring my lips back up to his and wait breathlessly, anxious to be kissed.
This time his hands wrap around my waist, and he pulls me in with an aggressive tug. His lips find mine and part. The hot cinnamon coating my mouth softens from the cool sweet taste of his tongue. The missing spark ignites. This time there’s a connection between us.
M
y hands travel to his neck, searching for that thick hair. It’s short, buzzed. He’s cut it. That’s okay. I enjoy the soft feel of the shorter hair against my fingers and pull, encouraging him closer for a much deeper kiss.
And holy hell does it go deeper. It’s so hot that I moan, multiple times. I’m having a mini mouthgasm. There’s so much spark this time you can almost hear it crackling around us.
“Take me to your room.” I tear myself away, panting, pulling him toward the staircase. My body is electrified, tingling, and horny. Hooray for second chances. I can’t believe I was ready to give up on this guy.
“My room? Are you sure?” His breathing is as labored as mine. “This is crazy.”
“I’m sure, Henry, I want you.” We make it to the bottom step and he stops.
“Henry? You think I’m Henry?” He drops my hand and steps back. “Of course, what was I thinking?”
“You’re not Henry?” That’s sobering information, making me no longer stupid drunk, just regular drunk, and I start to panic. Fuck. Did I just kiss Jenn’s dad?
“No, I’m not Henry.” My mystery kisser gulps loudly. “I was just taken off guard and incredibly stupid. I don’t know what came over me.”
I still can’t make out the face in the shadows. Forget regular drunk, I’m almost completely sober. Mouth fucking a stranger will do that to a girl.
“If you’re not Henry, who are you?” I take the first few steps of the staircase, putting distance between me and please God, not the father. I need to get back to the safety of Jenn’s room, go to sleep, and pretend this never happened.
“I’m Henry’s brother,” he says as I run away.
Bloody Hell
I grab a trash bag and carefully put a bloody roll of paper towels into it. Everything in the kitchen is covered in either blood or whiskey. What the hell happened here last night? And more importantly, who the hell did I kiss? Where is this mystery girl now?
At least I know it wasn’t Sasha. My brother’s ex is petite, small, under five foot.
Whoever this was, she’s tall, almost my height, passionate, curvy, and tempting as all hell. She had a tongue that tasted of cinnamon whiskey, and had me up most of the night with my head spinning.
I’ve had zero chemistry with a woman in over two years, but last night that changed. Something ignited inside of me. I felt an instant connection with the girl whose face I didn’t even see.
How did my boring, Sasha-obsessed brother get a girl like that? And how did she get into the cabin if he isn’t even here yet? I only saw Jenn’s car in the driveway. Did Jenn let her in? How serious are these two if I didn’t even know about her? Or if she didn’t realize I wasn’t Henry until after sharing a kiss like that?
“Do we have aspirin?” Jenn walks in looking like death. Her pale face is covered in dry blood and so are her shirt and her hair.
“What the hell happened to you?” I run over to her and inspect. It looks like her nose was the culprit of the bloodbath, but it doesn’t look broken. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, God no. I am far from okay.” She tugs open the fridge and hisses at the light inside, shielding her eyes. “Whiskey is bad. Very bad,” she says, twisting the cap off a bottle of water and chugging. “Never again.”
“Who were you drinking with?”
“My friend.”
“What friend?” I ask. “Henry’s girlfriend?”
“Sasha isn’t here.” She tugs open drawer after drawer until she finds the aspirin.
“Not Sasha, his new girlfriend.”
“What are you talking about?” Jenn struggles, too hungover to beat the childproof lid on the pills. “Help me please,” she whines, handing them over.
“The girl who’s here, your friend, is she with Henry?”
“You are making my head hurt with all these questions. Just give me the pills.” She holds out her hand, but I won’t dump the pills until she answers. “They went on one date, it wasn’t great. He talked about Sasha the whole time. I don’t think it’s a match.” I like that answer and reward her with two extra-strength pills.
“Thank you,” she says before swallowing. “And thanks for cleaning up. I’m going in the shower. If my friend comes down can you entertain her, she might need water and aspirin too,” Jenn says, then holds her head. “Ow. Everything hurts.” Her tortured pouting continues as she heads back up the stairs. “Ow, ow, ow….”
I return to scrubbing the blood and whiskey from my mom’s white marble countertops before she gets here and freaks out. But as soon as I’m done, I’m gonna hop in the shower myself. I want to look presentable when I meet Jenn’s friend. Henry’s new girl that isn’t a match.
The person I kissed last night.
My head throbs.
But not from the enormous amount of whiskey I spent half the night guzzling. It’s because I kissed Jenn’s brother last night. The wrong brother. Not the one I was set up with. Not the one whose face I’ve actually seen.
Noooooo. Of course not.
I’m Remi Kay, Queen Fuckup herself, causing chaos and havoc wherever I go.
Coming here was so stupid. Drinking whiskey was even more stupid. Nothing good ever comes out of me and whiskey. And I know that. Going against my own fucking rule came back and kicked me in the ass.
“Hey.” Jenn walks back into her bedroom. Whiskey kicked her ass pretty hard too.
“Your face,” I say as the memory of me high-fiving her nose surfaces. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t even know what the fuck happened last night.” She laughs. “But don’t worry, my nose is fine. It just looks bad. I think.” She searches her dresser and grabs a brush. “I’m gonna go in the shower now and get all this blood off me before my parents get here. My brother is down there now cleaning up the mess. He’s a lifesaver.”
“Henry?” I say even though I know damn well that it’s not him.
“No, my other brother. The one you haven’t met. He’s in the kitchen if you need anything.” She yawns and runs a hand through her tangled blue hair. “I plan on taking a long shower.”
“No, I’m fine,” I reply quickly. “I might just try and go back to sleep for a while.” And avoid the kitchen and the brother I jumped last night.
“Okay.” The bathroom door closes, and I slam my head back against the pillow, shutting my eyes.
I don’t even know who you are. Let’s change that.
My eyes fly back open. Fuck. Every time I close my eyes, the kiss from last night replays. As bad as this situation is, that kiss was good. Really good. Best kiss of my life. Figures it would be with the wrong person.
Oh God. What’s gonna happen when we go downstairs and I come face-to-face with this guy? Do I acknowledge what I did and apologize? Or do I act like I don’t remember and play it off like it never even happened?
I have no clue, so for now I am just going to hide out up here for as long as I can.
Stupid fucking whiskey.
A Life-Shattering Moment
I lower the volume on the TV so I can doze on the couch. I’m starting to think maybe I imagined the whole thing last night. It’s almost time for dinner and there’s been no sign of Jenn or her friend since I saw my sister this morning.
“Don’t fall asleep, come help me set the dining room table.” My mom shakes my feet that are on top of the armrest. I’m twenty-nine and haven’t gotten an allowance since I was ten, but I sit up at my mom’s request, stretching before going to help out.
“Why are there so many settings?” I ask, confused. The leaf has been added to the already large table and I count twelve placemats.
“There’s the five of us,” my mom counts off as she rolls silverware into cloth napkins and uses the fancy rings. She nudges her chin to the stack of plates on the hutch for me to grab, “your aunt and uncle, your cousin Carl and Katie, your cousin Tiffany is coming, and she asked if she could bring a friend, and one more. Who am I forgetting?”
“Jenn’s friend,” I supply.
>
“Yes, that’s right.” My mom stops her napkin rolling. “You know, I haven’t seen either of those girls today. Are they even here?”
“Is who even here?” Henry strolls in and plants a kiss on my mom’s cheek. How nice of him to finally to show up.
“Hello, sweetheart. I’m just talking about your sister and her friend.”
“You mean my friend.” He waggles his eyebrows insinuatingly.
“Your friend?” Not sure why I’m annoyed or why I feel the need to question, nonetheless, I continue. “I thought you guys ‘weren’t a match,’” I quote my sister. Jenn said it was one date and that it didn’t go well. “What’s with the insinuating brows?”
“Well, I mean, she came all the way down here to spend the weekend with me.” He snickers and he’s so fucking smug it pisses me off. “So, yeah, I’m pretty sure we matched.” He lowers his voice so only I can hear. “Wait until you see this girl. Hot.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides as more unexplainable agitation creeps in.
“What about Sasha?” I spit out, knowing that the mere mention of her name will hurt him.
His spine stiffens; his shoulders go rigid. The girl crushed him hard and broke his heart. Not many people know that he had bought her a ring. But I do. I suck.
“What about her?” he says coolly.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, wishing I could retract that. I’m a dick. “I’m happy you found someone new,” I say, adjusting my voice and my attitude.
I don’t know what came over me. Am I that desperate that I’m feeling territorial over a girl who accidentally mistook me for my brother and kissed me? Jesus Christ, I need a life. I don’t even know who this girl is.
My mom glances over at us. “Everything okay? You guys look very serious.”
“We’re fine,” I say, looking at Henry to make sure we are. He seems to have recovered from my Sasha slip and begins helping Mom with the last few napkin bundles. “What wineglasses do you want out, red or white?” I ask. I have a feeling I am gonna need wine at dinner tonight.
Whiskey Chick Page 3