by Sara H Ney
I roll my eyes and sigh, loudly. “It’s not what he did, it’s what he said... so out of line.” I take a sip of wine. “Are you ready for this one? Get comfortable: it’s a doozy...”
It takes me awhile, but I’m able to give him the entire five-and-dime version of “Blow-Job-Gate 2014” (otherwise known as “The Incident That Ended Our Friendship”) before the waitress comes and sets down our entrees. I must admit to feeling somewhat mollified - and vindicated - by the reaction I’m receiving from my date.
“Wait - he said all that shit? To. Your. Face?!”
I nod, taking a sip of wine.
“No way. Nuh uh.”
“Yup.” I take another sip, chuckling as my lips hit the rim of the glass.
“To your face.”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Just... wow.” Neve shakes his head and cuts his steak. “And you didn’t slap him?”
“No, but I wanted to.” We both laugh.
“Well shit. No wonder you’re ignoring him. What a D-bag.”
“Mmm Hmmm,” I murmur absently into my wine glass.
“But you like him.”
I fiddle with the stem of my wine glass, refusing to look up, and heave a deep sigh.
“So I guess the question is: what are we going to do about it?”
**Matthew**
“Are you sure they’re going to be here?” I ask Molly for the fifth time, glancing towards the front entrance door of Lone Rangers. “This doesn’t seem like a place Neve would bring her after a date.”
He has way more class than that.
Unfortunately.
Molly checks her phone and glances up at me. “Oh my gawd, would you chill out? I’ve got the situation under control. And by the way, you’re going to owe me a favor and I get to decide what it is.”
I glare at my sister, because there is a lot riding on Cecelia showing up tonight, and a few things I plan on accomplishing when she does, none of which will happen if Neve doesn’t bother to bring her. And they are, in no particular order:
1. Get Cecelia to kiss me
2. Get Cecelia to accept my apology.
3. Get Cecelia to date me.
4. Repeat.
Tonight is kind of a big deal for me.
I don’t normally lay it all on the line like this, and never in front of other people... My longest relationship was with Shelly Connors in seventh grade math class and was extremely one sided. As in: I copied off of Shelly and she remained blissfully unaware. That relationship ended when our teacher, Mrs. Rettler, reassigned the class seating mid-year, so... Yeah.
My buddy Kevin appears from behind and claps a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it tight. “Dude, don’t you feel even the slightest bit demoralized that we’re all here to witness your potentially public rejection?”
A low growl sounds from behind Molly, and Jenna emerges to bark at Kevin. “Oh my god, would you shut up?” Her eyes flare at him, alive with interest as she fumes. “Ugh. I can’t believe you know a word like demoralized.”
“You better watch that sassy little mouth of yours before I stick my tongue down your throat to shut you up.” Kevin retorts, drinking in her colorful outfit appraisingly from head to toe. I don’t know what it is about this girl, but she’s always dressed like an exhibit in an art gallery. All she needs to complete her ensemble is a neon sign above her blinking ‘Look at Me!’
“You. Are. Disgusting.” Jenna spits out, breathing hard and clearly becoming turned on by his dirty talk.
Kevin moves closer to Jenna, smirking. “You like it, you little slut.”
Jenna gasps and whispers in mock horror, “How dare you...”
Molly throws her arms up in the air, cutting off their foreplay with a referee’s time-out hand signal. “Okay, okay you two - Jiminy Crickets. Take your hate filled eye orgy out to the dance floor or a dark corner, would’ja?” She tosses her long auburn ponytail over her shoulder.
Our friends are ridiculous and the thought of Cecelia walking in to this den of crazy has my stomach turning in knots. “Um, maybe you should all just go. Far, far away.”
Weston snickers. “Matt, buddy, do you really want us to leave you here to fend for yourself? We allll know how that worked out the last time you tried navigating this shit on your own.”
He looks rather pleased with himself, the sarcastic little bastard.
“Whoaaa - have you always been this snarky?”
My sister cocks her head at me and narrows her green eyes. “Is that a serious question, or are you being sarcastic?”
Her phone beeps and she checks it, smiling, then slides it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Why don’t you take Weston up to the bar and wait. You’re starting to drive me bat-shit-crazy.” Molly gives me a shove and scoots us away with her hands. “Shoo. Go. Get the heck out of here.”
**Cecelia**
We walk in to The Lone Ranger, Neve and I, one of his large hands curled around my waist, his thumb hooked into the waist band of my shorts, guiding me as we weave our way through the bar near the back wall. I glance up at him and he pulls me in tighter, running the thumb tucked into my shorts back and forth along the bare skin under my shirt.
I grit my teeth and jab him in the ribs, hissing. “Would you knock that off?”
“Sorry, it was an impulse.”
He does not look one bit remorseful.
“Ugh. Your impulses are going to get you in trouble, mister.”
He grins down at me and kisses my hair, whispering in my ear. “I like you Ceceila Carter. Are you sure you want to go through with this? We can ditch this place and go somewhere else to get to know each other better.” Neve flashes me his pearly whites, a lock of shocking black hair falling in his dark blue eyes.
“Um, yeah - I’m sure. Let’s just get this over with.”
“You don’t sound sure.” He wiggles his eyebrows then shrugs it off. “Okay, fine. Whatever. Can you at least do me a favor and try not to get me punched in the face tonight?”
“I can’t make you any promises. After all, a favor is what got me into this whole mess in the first place...”
**Matthew**
She’s here.
Regrettably, she’s not alone.
They come through the crowd together attached at the hip - and before I can even give Cecelia a proper once over, my eyes go immediately to Neves’ giant paw in the waistband of her shorts. Immediately seeing red, my nostrils flare and I turn away to prevent myself from glaring, count from one to ten in a futile attempt to calm myself, then loudly slam my beer bottle down onto the bar top.
The sound of the glass bottle hitting the wooden counter clangs in my eardrums, and as I grip the long neck of it like a lifeline I repeat, ‘I deserve this. I deserve this and I brought this on myself,’ over and over in my head.
Or maybe not in my head...
Weston gives me a look like I’ve gone demented. “Dude, do you realize you’re saying that shit out loud? Christ, you sound like a wacko.” He gives his head a quick nod. “Heads up. They’re approaching to the left.”
Still facing the bar I take a swig of beer, relishing the cold liquid pouring down my throat, swallowing hard and kind of wishing I was piss-ass drunk, especially when Kevin loudly announces, “Look-ey, look-ey what the cat dragged in! It’s our favorite new couple.”
I almost spit my beer out and swear if looks could kill, my boy Kevin would be a dead man.
I’m too sober and way way too old for this shit.
Weston claps me on the shoulder, letting his hand rest there - as a warning to chill the fuck out - and I turn towards the group, fake smile pasted across my lips. My eyes settle on Cecelia, and seeing her is like a drink of water to my parched soul - and holy shit balls did that sound cheesy. Cheesy but... mostly true. My tired eyes haven’t set on her in, what - days. A week? Two weeks? All I know for sure is it’s been too long and time seems indistinguishable. It hardly matters now that she’s here...
And now here I am waxi
ng poetic about a girl who:
1. I’m not even technically dating.
2. I haven’t even kissed.
3. Thinks I’m a complete prick.
4. Is here on a date with one of my best friends, who is admittedly, probably a better match for her than I am.
Need I go on?
I only have myself to blame.
As Molly hands Cecelia a cocktail glass, I see her covertly watching me from the corner of her eye above the rim as she takes a long sip - a maneuver I’ve discovered she’s honed well; it means she can stare at me without being obvious.
I take her perusal of me as a sign. A very good sign.
On the other hand... Neves’ hand is still tucked into her goddamn shorts. “Have you guys been here long?” He asks to no one in particular.
Jenna flips her long, wavy, blonde and lavender hair, giggling at him flirtatiously, dimples denting her smooth cheeks. “Only for about twenty minutes. You know how it is - no one wants to get here before eleven O’clock and be the first ones out.”
I try not to bare my teeth as Neve somewhat reluctantly removes his hand from the waistband of Cecelia’s shorts just long enough to step forward and bump my fist in way of a greeting. At this moment I would seriously rather crush the bones in his knuckles with my fist than bump them.
Wait. Does that seem harsh?
But come on - what the fuck is he doing with my girl? Alright, alright - fine. Go ahead and argue that she and I really don’t have anything going on, and that she isn’t really my girlfriend - but so what? Neve knows I like her. Weston knows I like her - everyone fucking knows I like her.
Don’t they...?
So the question is: what the hell is he doing taking her out on another date? It’s shady and it’s pissing me off. Honestly. He really is lucky I don’t deck him. This totally goes against Bro Code, and judging by the smug look plastered on his arrogant face, he damn well knows it.
He also knows I’m not going to do anything about it. Which pisses me off even more...
Molly hovers nearby, sipping her drink but on high alert - like a referee in a game on the ice, waiting to step in if the players start rough housing. She looks weary and tired, and I wouldn’t exactly say I felt guilty for putting her in the middle, but...
...it’s her damn fault for having a witty and gorgeous roommate to begin with.
Weston breaks through the awkward silence. “The two of you look way too dressed up for this place.”
Okay. So much for breaking the ice and making it less awkward.
“Well, we weren’t going to stop in but Kevin kept bugging me, so... here we are.” Neve flashes his teeth, corralling Cecelia closer to the bar and getting out his wallet. Leaning against the counter with a twenty dollar bill extended, he makes the money into a little tent and lays it on the bar top. He plants a kiss on the side of Cecelia’s face, putting an arm around her shoulder and giving her an affectionate squeeze. “Our original plan was to go parking, wasn’t it Love Muffin?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cecelia
“This shot of Jaeger tastes like I’ll be drunk texting you later.” - Bernie
Oh my god, Love Muffin?
Seriously? Seriously?! Come on!
I groan inwardly and secretly want to both vomit in my mouth and elbow Neve in the gut (hard), but can’t get my arm loose enough to do it since he’s draped all over me like a wet washrag. He’s starting to annoy the shit out of me - even though I know he’s only doing it to irritate Matthew.
I mean. I want to annoy Matthew, not make him think I’m a man-hopper, if you know what I mean. And if you don’t, well, a man-hopper is exactly what it sounds like - the kind of girl that goes from one guy to another - in other words: a slut.
I force a smile and through clenched teeth mutter sarcastically, “Right. Parking. Up at Walker’s Point. You all know how I loooove a good make out sesh.”
Everyone except Neve shifts uncomfortably, their eyes roaming between Matthew and I like they’re watching a Telenovela Soap Opera unfold before their eyes.
And in in a way, it kind of is.
Unable to stand it any longer, I peel Neve off of me and excuse myself to run to the Ladies Room, the privacy a welcome diversion. I lean against the dirty metal stall, staring up at the moldy ceiling and exhale. My body sags and I dig into my Molly’s hand bag to check my cell.
The little blue light blinks: one new message.
Matthew: I know it’s not my place, but you look beautiful tonight.
I stare at the text, slack jawed. Damn right it’s not his place. And yet...
Me: So complimentary all of the sudden. Gee, I wonder why...
Matthew: Learning from my mistakes?
Me: Well, at least when you make mistakes they’re not hard to miss. Have you re-evaluated your stance on Blowies?
Matthew: Have you?
Me: O....M....GOD
Matthew: I’M KIDDING. I’M JUST KIDDING. See? I am a complete idiot. I NEED someone like you to teach me how not to be an asshole.
Me: Probably. But you know what they say: Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. And YOU are definitely a dog. Woof woof.
Matthew: Wow, you go straight for the jugular, don’t you?
Me: I call it like I see it. You’re not the right guy for me, Matthew, and I don’t do casual flings. Sorry.
Matthew: I know you’re starting to like me, Cecelia. Admit it.
Me: I won’t admit anything. And if I did, it’s too late anyway. You leave in a month for California.
Matthew: Why did you have to go and bring that up??????
Me: Look. I can’t stay holed up in the bathroom texting you. At some point I have to come back out to my DATE.
Matthew: Suit yourself. But you should know I still plan on cashing in...
Me: Fat chance.
Matthew: You know you’re going to have to lay one on me at some point. Be a woman of your word.
Me: I’m not kissing you. Get over yourself.
Matthew: Over myself? I’d rather have you under myself.... Haha.
Me: I know this will be difficult for you to comprehend, but when I walk back out, could you please try to behave like a mature adult...
Matthew: That just proves you don’t know me at all. LOL. Why would I start behaving like an adult now?
Why indeed.
I lock my cell and stuff it back into my purse, balancing myself on the small single sink in the bathroom by the forearms, staring at myself in the mirror. My deceitful, traitorous-self stares back.
I say I want nothing to do with Matthew Wakefield; that I don’t want him touching me, that I don’t want to kiss him - but it’s all just one, big, fat lie and I know it.
He knows it.
I sigh.
Man, I am so screwed.
**Matthew**
Normally, I’m not the kind of guy that tries forcing himself on people - and women in general. I typically don’t have to. But I find myself zoning in and out of the conversation unfolding in front of me in favor of plotting the seduction of one Cecelia Carter.
Out on the dance floor, Molly, Jenna, and Cecelia buckle over in laughter as they grab each other’s hips, swaying and dancing to the house band in what looks like an attempt to mock the music - one thing is for sure: they’re not taking themselves seriously.
“Dude. It’s rude to stare at my date right in front of me.” Neve points out, poking me to get my attention.
“Dude. It’s rude to bring my girl on a date right in front of me.”
Everyone laughs at my audacity. “Yeah, I guess it is, but - oh well. Shouldn’t have acted like a pig, I guess.”
“Cut the crap, alright? We all know this whole date is horse shit. What’s it going to take to get you to leave?” I cross my arms defensively.
Neve mirrors my stance. “Nothing. I gave you one shot with her the first time I took her out, and I’m not giving you another one. If she didn’t want to be here with me, she wouldn’t h
ave come. So back off.”
“You’re seriously doing this to me right now?”
“I think she’s worth it, don’t you?”
Shit. He makes a good point.
She is worth it...
Neve doesn’t stop there and prattles on like a gushing school girl. “Smart, pretty... and man is she funny. We laughed our asses off through dinner. Hey, did you know that she really does have a black belt? It’s not bullshit. She’s had it since she was twelve. Crazy isn’t it?” He laughs. “Promised she’d show me how to toss someone over my shoulder.”
No, I didn’t realize she was actually a black belt - I just assumed she was full of shit and false bravado when she’d said it. It never occurred to me that she would have been telling the truth that morning she was trying to kick me out of her apartment the day we first met.
Now I’m realizing I’ve never really asked her about herself. Jeez, I really am a selfish prick - no wonder she wants nothing to do with me.
“Her sister, too. Says it’s because her dad travelled a lot when she was growing up and her parents wanted the girls to be able to defend themselves.”
Kevin leans in intently. “That’s so fucking hot. What else did she tell you?”
Neve takes a drag from his pilsner glass and licks the foam from his upper lip. “Well, she went skydiving for her eighteenth birthday and to Ireland alone for her twenty first. Definitely not afraid to do anything solo.” He taps his chin in thought. “Hmm, let’s see, what else... “
Suddenly, I can’t listen to anymore. Cupping my hands around my mouth to create a makeshift megaphone, I shout, “Hey Cece!” She stops dancing and looks my way, surprised - I’ve never called her Cece before. “Canoodle.” The word slips past my tongue and I stare at her hard - harder than I’ve ever stared at anyone before.
It doesn’t take long before Cecelia is stomping over, Jenna and Molly nipping at her heels. Angrily, she grabs me by the arm. “What the hell Matthew,” she hisses, giving my bicep an aggressive squeeze. “Why are you doing this?”
“Hey, more importantly, what the hell is a canoodle,” Jenna interrupts, her face twisted into a contorted, confused expression.