by Bailey B
He’s lit. Having dunk a handle of Captain Morgan by himself, I don’t know how he’s still standing. All night he’s pretended the argument at the Red Onion last week never happened. Acting like we’re old buddies. I play his game, hoping Piper will see that I can be the bigger person.
Logan holds up his phone and takes a Snapchat video of Piper dancing. It’s irritating because somehow it’s gonna bite Piper in the ass. I push his phone down. Logan, seemingly unaware that I moved his arm, tucks his phone back into his pocket. “Dude, I don’t know how you did it, but thanks.”
Tad slinks up behind Piper. I grit my teeth, pissed because that should be me. Also because I warned him to stay away. Had I known Piper was coming by, I would have kicked him out the moment he stepped through the gate. He grasps her hips, pulling her back against him. I take a breath and try to swallow the bile creeping up my throat. It’s fine, they’re just dancing. His palm slides up her stomach, settling on her chest. Fuck you and your fat fingered manwhore hands!
I cross the room in the blink of an eye and grab Tad by the collar of his shirt, pulling him away from Piper. She stumbles back a step then finds her balance again. I narrow my eyes at him. “Leave.”
Tad chuckles, ignoring me. It’s clear as day Piper’s drunk. And the fact he thinks it’s okay to touch a girl like that when she’s inebriated puts him lower than dirt. He wraps his arms around Piper’s waist again and dips his head. Lips press against the smooth skin of Piper’s neck. Her head tips back, a moan escaping her. A moan that almost sound like my name. I’d be thrilled if it was me causing those sounds, but it’s not. “Last chance, Tad.”
“Screw you, Montgomery,” he says, nipping at her flesh. “You had your fun last weekend. It’s my turn.”
I’m gonna kill him! I grab Tad’s shirt collar again and yank him back once more. Piper falls to the floor, instantly throwing up all over her legs. She’s even more drunk than I realized. All the more reason no one should be touching her tonight, especially him.
Tad, fueled by liquid courage, swings. He’s a shit fighter, barely able to make a dent in the punching bag in the school’s gym. I dodge his right hook and sock him in the nose with a jab. He throws another punch that hits me in the ear. It’s a lucky shot. If I hadn’t taken my eyes off him to glance at Piper, he never would have landed a hand on me. My ear throbs but doesn’t slow me down. I live for this shit. Getting to beat the living shit out of people is part of what I love about playing hockey, and I’m a damn good fighter.
I throw a combo—jab to the face, left hook to the side, right hook to the ribs, uppercut to the jaw. Tad’s balance waivers and he falls. I straddle him and punch him some more. Hit after hit after hit until his face is a bloody mess. Tad raises his arms to block but it doesn’t make a difference. My fists slam into his arms and his arms hit his face. Fucker should have learned the first time not to touch my girl. A set of hands snake up my chest and yank me off before I do lasting damage.
“You good, Bro?” Logan’s watching me like I’m a rabid dog. He’s probably worried I’ll attack again. Depending on Tad’s next move, I just might.
Tad groans and rolls onto his knees. His lip is busted. Nose is broken, twisted to the side. One eye’s already swollen shut. Two guys from the football team come to his side, helping him onto his fat hobbit feet.
I point to the gate. “Get the fuck out. Everyone.”
Within minutes, the deck is cleared. I only threw tonight's party because Logan overheard my conversation with Piper. I would have been more than happy to call it an early night after this morning’s redeye. But on the off chance Piper decided to come by, I went ahead and had it and am glad I did. I wouldn’t want her drunk like this anywhere else.
What is going on with this girl?
I bend down and swoop Piper into my arms, puke and all. She leans into my chest, nuzzling her cheek against my shirt. I open one of the double doors on the deck with the hand under her legs. Piper groans and twists into my arms, turning away from me.
“Hey, hey. I’ve got you.”
13
Piper
My head’s killing me. I swear Thor’s beating against it with a million tiny hammers. And my skin feels like it’s being ripped off. Each movement, even in the smallest of ways hurts. It’s been almost a year since my last hangover and I could easily go another year without one. Why did I drink again?
Because it made you forget.
Oh yeah. I rub my hands down my face and open my eyes. Tan walls. Navy sheets. A large window that lets in too much light. This isn’t Cooper’s room. Shit, this isn’t any room in the Harris house.
Where the hell am I?
I kick the covers off and sit up. The world spins around me like it does when you’re on a carnival ride. This ride, it sucks. I want off. I press my palm to my head, hoping to halt the movement inside my brain. It does, a little, but not nearly enough to make the day tolerable. I take a breath and cross my legs, placing my hands on the mattress, trying to balance myself and look down. I’m in a green shirt that has a deer wearing silver glasses and red and black striped boxers. Last time I checked; I was in jeans and in a t-shirt.
Where the hell did this shit come from?
I groan and throw myself back onto the pillow. Last night comes flickering back in pieces. Kissing Rex. Dancing with Tad. Letting Tad kiss my neck. Fuck. None of last night was normal for me. I hate that I drank so much I can’t remember what I did or didn’t do beyond that kiss. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my fingers to my temples.
Think.
Think.
Think.
It’s gone. Everything after Tad nipping at my neck is gone, sucked into a black hole. I shudder at the thought of what might have happened. I hate him. Although right now, I hate myself more. Tad is the last person on Earth I’d give my firsts to. My real first, I don’t count the ones that were stolen from me.
I sit up, slower this time, and tip toe out of the bed hoping to find a clue as to where I am. I look around the room. It’s simple. A desk and chair. A lamp. Two bedside tables. But no pictures to indicate whose room this is. No art to make the place feel homey. Hell, there isn’t even a TV. You know what else I don’t see? My clothes.
Where could they be?
I pad across the hardwood floors, cautious that somehow someone will know I’m awake. That would be my luck. My hand barely touches the bathroom knob before there's a knock at the door. I freeze. Do I answer? What if it’s Tad? It didn’t even occur to me that this could be his house. What if he wants to do whatever we did last night again? I gasp. Or worse. What if I went home with someone completely different? Someone I can’t remember because I was drugged? I stole that bottle of Rum, who knows what could have been in it.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
They knock again. Whoever it is, knows I’m here. It’s not like I can hide in the closet and pretend like I left. But maybe the window… I run back to the bed and look out the panes. I’m on the second story overlooking the neighbor’s house. There’s no way to get down without breaking my ankle or scaling the roof and even then, I might still be stuck. Begrudgingly, I slip back into the bed and pull the covers to my chest. “Come in.”
Barely a second passes, but it feels like an eternity. The hair on my arms stand on edge, tiny tremors making their way through my body. Last night’s a new phantom haunting my thoughts. But what’s done is done. One thing’s for certain, I’m not doing anything with anybody this morning.
The door creeps open. I suck in a breath and wait. The tip of a black flip-flop comes into the room, followed by a leg and then finally the face. A sigh of relief escapes me when I see him.
Rex.
As crazy as it sounds, I don’t think Rex would have let me do anything too bad. And for that I’m grateful. If ever there was a strange bed I’d want to wake in, it would be his.
Rex walks into the room with a glass of water in one hand and a plate with a large blueberry muffin in the other. He sets every
thing on the nightstand closest to me, pulls the curtains shut, then sits on the edge of the bed. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Morning.”
Rex looks crisp. Even in a faded T-shirt and board shorts, he could pass for a model. I don’t know why his parents didn’t get him into that business. Rich people always try to get richer off their kids. Wait. Maybe that’s poor people. Is it that the rich and famous try to keep their kids out of the spotlight? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Rex isn’t famous and I’m never going to have his kids.
“Here,” he says unzipping the singular side pocket on his shorts. He pulls out a bottle of aspirin. “Take these. You’ll feel better in about an hour.”
I hold out my hand. “Thanks.”
Rex shakes two pills loose. I toss them into my mouth and grab the water off the nightstand. After a quick swallow, I set the cup back beside me, expecting him to leave but he doesn’t. He stares at me, brows knitted together, worry painted on his face.
Shit.
Is he going to tell me that we did something last night? I try to scan my thoughts again, but all I could find is a kiss. One glorious kiss that sends my pulse into warp speed just thinking about it. “Everything ok?”
“Um… you threw up on yourself last night.” Rex pauses and runs his hand through his hair, pushing his dark locks away from his eyes. They fall back into place a moment later looking better than ever. “I put you in the shower and changed you. But don’t worry, I kept your bra and panties on.”
“Oh. Um, Thanks.” That explains why I can’t find my clothes. Rex probably put them to wash. Now that he mentions it, I notice the rancid scent of puke on myself. He must not have scrubbed me clean, only ran water over my body. As grateful as I am for his respect, I’m a little disappointed. I need a reason not to like Rex. A pervy, horny, teenager is the perfect excuse, but he appears to be a true gentleman.
“You should probably take another shower though. All I did was rinse you off. Towels are in the bathroom already.” Rex stands. “I’m gonna head downstairs. Eat. Maybe sleep some more too. You’ll feel better in a few hours.”
14
Rex
Four hours pass before I hear a pitter-patter on the stairs. I close my team’s playbook and walk towards the front entryway. There's only so many stairs, and by the time I reach the hallway Piper’s at the bottom. She’s absolutely stunning. Her long hair’s tucked behind her ears, falling in damp spirals past her shoulders. She’s found a clean shirt of mine and a pair of basketball shorts. I forgot I hid the clothes I needed to fold in that closet.
Who did I hide them from?
Myself.
I hate doing laundry.
“Morning, sunshine.”
Piper leans one arm on the banister and smiles. I know I shouldn’t get used to this, she’s a guarded girl who tries to hide her emotions. But damn she’s radiant when she lets her guard down. “Hey.”
“Feeling better?”
She nods.
We stare at each other. Piper shamelessly eyeing me in my shorts. Me taking every inch of her perfect body. I’m mentally cataloging each detail so I can recall it later. If I had my phone, I’d snap a picture, but it’s back in the living room on the couch. And I don’t want to spook her. “It’s nearly two. Are you hungry?”
Piper’s eyes widen. “Oh. My God.”
I rack my brain, trying to come up with possible scenarios of what could be wrong in this moment. I’ve got nothing. “What?”
“I slept through my history final.” One hand pushes her long damp bangs back. “Shit. Cherrybroom is gonna kill me.”
I shake my head, trying to keep a laugh hidden. Cherrybroom’s a joke. Like most school counselors, her hands are tied in a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo. She can’t sneeze much less do anything in regard to Piper without jumping through yards of red tape. “You’ll be fine. Come on. Let’s have some lunch.”
Piper mulls over my words a minute then takes my outstretched hand. In the kitchen she slides onto a barstool while I grab sandwich materials from the fridge. “Mayonnaise, mustard, relish. Pick your poison.”
“Mayo only please.”
“You got it.” A few minutes later we’re both eating inch thick deli worthy sandwiches off paper plates. My phone vibrates on the counter, the ding of an alert sounding a half second later. A notification that a deposit of twenty-thousand dollars has been added to my account.
Another ding.
Mom: Happy birthday!
I set my phone back on the counter, face down. Every year it’s the same. No call. No card. Just a deposit and a text. My Mom and Dad mean well, but at some point, they forgot what it takes to be a parent. I don’t want their money. I want them to spend time with me. But since I can’t have one, I might as well take the other.
“You alright?” Piper asks, throwing her plate in the trash.
“I’m fine.” My phone rings, and for a second I think it might be my parents. They never call, let alone Facetime, but today’s special. It’s not every birthday your only child turns eighteen. My heart drops the moment I see it’s a Jenny.
Jenny is to me what Piper is to Cooper. A girl who needs protecting. One of my best friends. And the only person from my last school to make an effort to stay in touch after I moved. While Jenny is as beautiful as the day is long with her Barbie blonde hair and legs that go on for days, we were just friends.
Why? For starters, she’s dated Broderick since the seventh grade. But even if she was single, Jenny is too high maintenance for me. As her friend, I can tell her to stick it where the sun don’t shine when she’s being a brat. As her boyfriend I’d have to suck it up and play nice and I’m not about pretending when I’m in a relationship.
“Happy birthday Rexy-Roo!” Jenny yells as soon as the video connects.
I chuckle, her nickname brings back a horde of drunken memories. Jenny nicknamed me Rexy-Roo after some party game last year. I guess I reminded her of a kangaroo or something. I don’t know, but it stuck and she’s the only one allowed to use it. “Thanks Jen. How’s things going?”
Jenny rolls her big green eyes. Always lined, lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. “It’s going. My parents’ divorce settled. Mom got everything. Dad and I had to move out to Southside.”
Jenny had every girl’s dream life. Big house. Fancy car. Perfect boyfriend. She spent money like it grew on trees without a care in the world. Her mom was an heiress or something. I don’t really know. Jenny was always vague on the details. But life for her was good until her mom ran away with the plastic surgeon. Jenny’s dad was in construction and made enough to survive but not support his daughters lavish ways. Everyone knew her mom was going to take them to the cleaners, not that he was Mr. Moneybags, she was just that kind of woman.
“Shit that sucks.”
“It’s not too bad. I get to finish out the year on a scholarship and Lula’s parents said I could stay with them during the week until graduation. Dad didn’t like it at first, but he came around when I got mugged on the subway.”
She’s riding the subway? Staying with Lula? What the hell. I have a house sitting empty with two cars minutes from where she used to live. “Shit, Jenny. Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped you!”
She rolls her big eyes. “Because Rex, I’m not your responsibility. Everything will work itself out.”
I point at her through the phone. She may not be my responsibility, but she’s my friend. I don’t have too many of those so I try to take care of the one’s I’ve got. Besides, Jenny’s not a user. She’d cut off her left hand before taking a handout. But knowing this doesn’t stop me from offering. “Promise me you’ll come to me if shit goes south. I’m only a phone call away. You know I’ve always got your back.”
Jenny smiles and this time it’s not one of her show-pony smiles, but a genuinely grateful grin. “I know and that’s why I love you.” She flicks her hand. “Enough about me. What are you doing today? Please don’t tell me you’ve di
tched to wallow in self-pity again. Swear to God, I’ll hitchhike my way down there if you are.”
I chuckle. Always a flair for the dramatics. “First of all, you will never hitchhike. And secondly…”I flip the camera around to show her Piper. “I’m spending the day with this pretty lady.”
“Hi!” Jenny says waving at the camera like a lunatic, which is facing me again.
“That’s Piper.” Beautiful, wonderful, sweet Piper. I’ve never mentioned a girl to Jenny. While I’ve had my share of beautiful women, none of them have struck me as anything more than a fling.
Until Piper.
I can’t explain it and I don’t try to understand it but being with her feels right. She feels like home.
“Well I’m not gonna keep you any longer. Be good!” Jenny wiggles her eyebrows then hangs up. I set my phone face down on the counter and pick at the chips on my plate.
“So, it’s your birthday?” Piper asks, a sly smile on her face.
“Yup.”
She leans onto the counter, a long tendril of hair falling over her shoulders. “Any big plans tonight?”
Gretchen used to make a big deal out of my birthday. Surprise decorations that stopped being a surprise when I was ten. Cake. Presents. Some fun activity with my friends. Now she’s gone, today’s just another day. “You’re looking at them.”
Piper nods, the sparkle in her eyes fading. “My mom never celebrated my birthday. I’d never had cake until I went to live with Mamma T.”
If not for Gretchen, I probably wouldn’t have had cake either but it doesn’t make me any less sad for Piper. Birthdays are supposed to be fun. When I have kids, I’m going all out for them. Every year. Bounce houses. Bands. Balloon shaping clowns. You name it, they’ll have it. No child should ever feel the disappointment of their parents forgetting the day they were born.