by Q. B. Tyler
* * *
“I DON’T SEE WHY YOU told your mentor anyway. It’s like you were looking for a lecture.” My brother says as he slams his drink down in front of him, the liquid sloshing over the sides of the glass. I’d met him for a beer at a bar near his house that turned into a two which soon turned into four.
I could hear Tuck’s pesky voice in my ear, asking me if I’d had everything under control. If the stress caused by my relationship with Charley had led me down a familiar road of self-destruction. If I’d had a drink recently. I scratch my beard and pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling suddenly antsy and fidgety.
Everything is under control. Tuck is way too intense. I’m not falling into old patterns.
Everything is fine.
I’m fine.
I clear my throat, preparing to explain why I felt the need to disclose everything I had with Tuck. “There’s a good chance her husband is coming after my practice….” I trail off. “Well, there was until Dad got ahold of him.”
“Poor bastard, probably didn’t even see the wrath of J.R. coming.” He snorts.
I frown, wondering what he knew about the wrath. Andrew Montgomery was the golden child, perfect in my parent’s eyes. Star of the football team, Prom King, lacrosse captain, all around sports God. His grades were…decent. But everyone overlooks that when you’re All-American. My parents were over the moon when he’d gotten a full ride to play at Ohio State. They were devastated that he’d be so far away, but they were thrilled at the bragging rights it gave them to everyone in Georgia. I, on the other hand, was classified as Drew’s younger brother. The Other Montgomery was my claim to fame. The second child. I’d grown up with a middle child complex and I didn’t even have younger siblings. I tried my best to be like him so that my parents would notice me. So they’d pay more attention. I was decent at sports, but nothing to the caliber of my star older brother. It used to confuse the shit out of everyone that I wasn’t better. I was smart as shit, acing my way through high school and scoring almost a perfect score on my SATs. But no one seemed to care about that in comparison to my brother’s ability to throw sixty-yard touchdown passes.
I let his comment slide, suppressing my feelings just as I had done my entire life. I look up from my drink to see my brother making eyes with a redhead at the end of the bar. I watch as she tips the beer bottle back, running her tongue over the neck as if it’s well, you know. I shake my head at her brazenness, but mostly I’m confused because, although my brother may be a manwhore, he was usually monogamous. “What happened to Olivia?” I ask, referring to the woman my brother was seeing just last week, if my memory serves me correctly.
“Oh, we broke up.” He doesn’t even glance in my direction, his gaze still fixed on the redhead who is currently twirling her curls around her finger. How original. “I wonder if the carpet matches the drapes?” He finally pulls his gaze away from her—or her chest that is practically exposed—to look at me.
“Did you actually just say that?”
“You’d be surprised, little bro. A lot of girls out here are dying their hair red these days. Fucking a woman with red pubes is like meeting a real-life mermaid. Ariel in the flesh, if you will.” He waves his hand as if to say, obviously.
“Haven’t we talked about not sexualizing children’s movies?” I groan, remembering a particular traumatic conversation he’d had with his fraternity brothers that I’d had the misfortune of witnessing regarding who was the most fuckable Disney Princess.
“Haven’t we talked about not shrinking me, Dr. Asshole?”
“Fine, go. Fuck Ariel. Don’t come crying to me when she gives you crabs though.”
His head whips to mine and then back to hers. “She has crabs!?”
“I was making a joke, dumbass. The Little Mermaid, her best friend was a crab?”
“Oh. Right.” She looks at the woman before turning back to me. “Now all I can see is crabs. Thanks for ruining it for me. I was obviously going to wrap it up.”
I lift the beer bottle to my lips, taking a long swig of the liquid. “Sure, bro.”
“Stop being a cock block! Just because you’re not getting laid right now, stop ruining it for the rest of us.” He rolls his eyes. “Speaking of which, when is Charley coming back?”
Just hearing her name, makes the ache in my balls feel that much heavier, knowing that she won’t be back for three more days. “Monday.”
“Don’t break your dick off before then.” He chuckles.
“Says the man who spent the better part of his teenage years in the fucking bathroom.”
“Hey, I wasn’t always in there alone.”
I roll my eyes remembering how Drew often had girls over. My parents were rarely home as we got older, my father working around the clock and my mother usually at luncheons for The Junior League. I would lock myself in my room, doing homework or reading while my brother had more than his fair share of girls moving through his room as if it were an assembly line.
I’ll admit I’d been jealous at the time, but now, I didn’t envy him in the slightest. A series of faceless women over and over, night after night. I’d engaged in casual sex from time to time before I met Charley, and rarely did it leave me feeling satisfied. Rarely was I sated. “Oh, I know. I had to help sneak girls out of your room on more than one occasion.”
“Look I know you were saving yourself for marriage and all, but don’t judge me for getting laid in high school.” He waves at the bartender before pointing at his bottle indicating he needed another.
“I wasn’t saving myself for marriage asshole, it’s called not wanting my dick to fall off for sticking it in the wrong woman.” I raise an eyebrow at him and he punches my shoulder in response.
“Well for your information, my dick is perfectly attached. Shall we compare? We can ask red to be the judge,” he jokes. My eyes chance a glance at her, and sure enough her eyes are still fixed on my brother.
Move on, hon. He already has.
Whenever I spent any amount of time longer than one hour with Drew, I remember why I could only take him in small doses. He’d yet to grow up, and more often than not our time spent together was rather tedious.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“Like…here in this bar? Here in this life? Are you getting philosophical on me?” My mind immediately begins to construct a monologue about my stance on Nietzsche’s theories when he interrupts me.
“No, Einstein, like here in Atlanta. Your girl is in Florida, why didn’t you go with her? Or why don’t you go now? It’s Friday, you can have the weekend with her,” he answers as if it were that easy. Charley needs space.
“She’s there to decompress from her divorce, Drew. I don’t need to be there crowding her thoughts. She needs space and time. Besides she’s with her best friend.”
He raises his brows. “Is she hot?”
“Lauren? I mean she’s okay, I guess? I don’t know.”
“God, do you no longer have eyes since you fell head over dick?”
“I believe the saying is head over heels.”
“I stand by my statement.” He pulls his phone out.
“I don’t see what it has to do with anything, but yes, Lauren is pretty.” I only have eyes for Charlotte, but Lauren is an attractive woman.
“I assumed as much. Hot women travel in packs.” I go to protest about his reference to Charlotte when he puts a hand up, silencing me. “And before you lose your shit, I’m not the first person to notice that your girl is hot, and I certainly won’t be the last, so relax. Anyway,” he says as he scrolls through his phone, “there’s a flight to Destin in three hours. We could be on it, and you could be with Charley tonight. It’s a quick hour flight.”
“We? Sorry, how do you fit into the equation?”
“Hey, if you’re keeping Charlotte occupied, her friend will need someone to hang out with, right?” I look at him and then down at his phone. “Come on, I’ve got the frequent flyer miles, it’ll cost literally nothing. I’ll eve
n spring for your ticket too.”
“How do you have frequent flyer miles, you don’t go anywhere.” Drew is a CPA, and he rarely travels for work. The most traveling he does is to and from Ohio during football season or the occasional debaucherous weekend trip to Vegas when one of his douchebag friends is having a bachelor party.
That was hardly enough to spring for two tickets from Atlanta to the small Destin airport.
“Oh, did I say they were mine? I meant Ma’s,” he jokes.
“You have access to mom’s frequent flyer miles?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Of course, don’t you?” He turns back to his phone, and I can hear him rambling about refusing to take the middle seat. I chug the rest of my beer, suddenly ten times more tense than I was thirty seconds ago. My brother has a way of flaunting in my face the very different positions we have in our family in the most nonchalant way. To this day, I’m not sure if he even realizes how his comments came across.
I need Charley.
And I need her now.
“Let’s go see my girl.”
Five hours later, we are checking into the hotel, and it’s as if my dick can sense that she’s near because it’s been hard ever since we touched down in Florida.
“You got a suite? Pulling out all the stops, huh?” Drew asks as his eyes scan the lobby as we approach the front desk.
“Well I wasn’t sure if you were planning to crash with me, so I figured a second bedroom was needed just in case.”
“And hear you and Charlotte going at it? Pass. Besides, I’m hoping to need my own space as well.” He raises his eyebrows up and down as he cranes his neck around me to follow a woman in a tennis skirt pad through the lobby.
“I’m almost afraid to turn you loose in here.”
“I’m on vacation!”
“Right. Okay, well…I’m going to head up to my room. Want to meet at the bar in like an hour?” I look at my watch, and based on Charlotte’s texts, including one picture in particular of her in a black dress that made my dick hard, it seems that she is heading to the hotel restaurant for dinner shortly.
I want to be there when she arrives.
* * *
A Few hours prior
IT’S THE SECOND DAY OF our trip to Destin—two days of sand and clear waters that you can only get from the best beaches in Florida. I’m lying on the beach, a margarita in my hand, soaking up the glorious rays, and I’m pretty sure I’m at least a shade darker already much to my excitement. I lift my sunhat slightly and look at Lauren who’s deep in some trashy magazine she got at the airport.
“Hey I’m going to get another drink, I don’t see our guy,” I say, looking around the beach for the young waiter that had been making sure our drinks never dropped below half full. “Want one?”
“Ya, I’ll take the same,” she says, pointing at the glass that had been filled with a fruity, red wine sangria. I nod before heading towards the beach bar. I grab my phone as the Wi-Fi is spotty on the beach and as I get closer to the hotel—and the bar—I notice the connection strengthening with each step. I haven’t heard from Will in a few hours, and while I know he wants to give me space, it’s honestly the last thing I want. I wasn’t expecting to miss him this much, and I wonder if that’s healthy.
Maybe you should ask your therapist.
I roll my eyes at my snarky subconscious as I grab my drinks and head back towards our chairs. I hand Lauren hers and sit back down next to her, stretching my feet out and wiggling my toes.
“Want to try that restaurant on the other side of the hotel tonight?” I ask her.
Her eyes light up, probably thrilled that I’m not suggesting another night of staying in.
I know Lauren is itching to paint the town like we used to do. Yesterday, we were both tired and stayed in our room, getting drunk off champagne and watching a marathon of chick flicks. I knew my best friend, and she subscribed to the notion that a vacation gave you complete carte blanche to take a walk on the wild side.
Well, Lauren actually lived on the wild side.
“I’m game. Do you want to go out later? Three guys have slid into my DMs ever since I posted that Instagram of us on the beach. Apparently, there’s only like three bars in this family friendly town. But one is having a party!” She holds up her phone and I squint as I try to see the picture despite the glare of the sun. I vaguely make out a group of people taking shots with bracelet glow sticks around their wrists.
“Sounds good.” I smile, knowing that if there is a party within a three-mile radius, Lauren would find it, even in a town where there are more antique shops than trendy bars.
The Palm restaurant is nestled into the side of the hotel facing the beach with open air seating, allowing you to feel the ocean breeze while you dine. Lauren and I are seated in the patio area, the winds cooling my heated skin every time a wave crashes onto the shore. My eyes pan the restaurant, eyeing all of the other patrons, and I can’t help but smile at everyone’s good spirits despite the ache I feel from being away from Will. We’d talked this morning, which eventually turned into phone sex while Lo had scoured the breakfast buffet for all of the carbs to try and combat our champagne hangovers.
But it only filled the void for half a second. I know this isn’t healthy, and if I’m still feeling this clingy in two years I’ll deal with it, but I’ve only officially been with him two days and then I had to leave him. I’m allowed to feel clingy, right? Honeymoon phase?
The waiter, who’s been making eyes at Lauren all night much to her appreciation, approaches our table and sits down two very different drinks. A glass of Malbec that Lauren had been downing like it was water all night and a Manhattan for me. I look up at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t order this?”
“From the gentleman at our bar.” He gives me that knowing smile, as if he’d seen this scenario play out a hundred times. Don’t fight it lady, you’re on vacation. I can almost hear his thoughts.
A giggle leaves a drunken Lauren. “Ooh, a guy sent you a drink? He’s totally trying to slide in there.”
I shake my head and pick up the glass, holding it out for him to take. “Oh, that’s sweet but can you tell him thank you and send it back?”
“No can do, ma’am. He said to tell you that Perfect Manhattans are ridiculous. Nothing in life is perfect…except for you. And if you’re going to continue to drink these, which I know you will, you at least need to drink them correctly.” He points to the drink in front of me. “That’s an Imperfect Manhattan. The difference is in the vermouth.”
My mouth drops open as I read between the lines, and I know it means Will is here poking fun at me and Matt’s “Wells Manhattan.” Oh my God, Will is here! I go through a range of emotions all while the waiter stands in front of me. Shocked, disbelief and finally excitement. I smile before taking a healthy sip. “It’s great.” I look around and don’t see the bar in my direct line of sight. “Where’s the bar?”
“You’re actually going over there? For what? Hot Doc will have a fit.” She takes a long sip of her wine and gives me a confused look as to why I am potentially entertaining some other guy.
Little does she know.
“Around that corner and to your left,” the waiter answers my question, pointing a finger to the other side of the restaurant, and I nod. Excitement courses through my veins over seeing the love of my life.
“Lauren, I’ll be right back.”
Then I’m out of my chair, not giving her a chance to ask a thousand questions and draw her conclusion that Will Montgomery is crashing our vacation. I turn the corner and his eyes find mine immediately. Despite my four-inch heels, I’m running towards the bar and he meets me halfway pulling me into his arms. “Missed me that much, huh?” I say. “What happened to needing some time alone?”
“I gave you two days! What do you want from me?”
“Oh, so many things,” I say devilishly as my hand dances down his chest and brushes his cock. Just the mere graze against his semi erection
causes my insides to sizzle and his lips find my neck. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He pulls back, raking his eyes over me from head to toe. “You’ve gotten some sun. You’re glowing,” he says appreciatively. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being with a man that always has something positive or complimentary to say about me.
“Thank you,” I say unable to find any other words as I’m still somewhat shocked that he’s standing before me.
“I have a suite upstairs,” he says. “The honeymoon suite was already booked but this one will suffice.”
“I’d be happy with you anywhere so long as there’s a bed,” I say wrapping my arms around his neck. Much like normal, I don’t notice anything else the second I laid eyes on Will, so when Andrew appears I’m shocked. “Oh my God! Hi! Sorry,” I say hugging him, and he chuckles.
“Good to see you, Charley. I’m not here to crash your trip. Will thought I could keep your friend company.”
“Did he now?” I hear behind me and I have a feeling this isn’t going to end well. “So, what he crashes our girls’ trip and I’m just supposed to spend the rest of it hanging out with some guy I’ve never met while you two defile a suite upstairs?” She looks at me. “Did you know he was coming? Was I just some substitute until he got here?”
I wince at her words, feeling terrible that she’s come to this conclusion. “No, of course not. I wanted you here. I want you here”
“I didn’t tell her I was coming, Lauren. She didn’t know. And I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“That’s why you sent the drink over? Because you didn’t want to interrupt?” She crosses her arms, and years of experience as her best friend tells me she’s pissed.
“Hey, lay off. He missed his woman and the way she basically climbed him and all but tried to mount him here in the restaurant, it’s obvious that she missed him too,” Andrew interjects and I wince.
Not the best course of action if you were hoping to make a good impression with Lauren.