I left a comment that she would only know the meaning of:
Use me anytime ;)
I’d be her fake boyfriend any day or night.
The sound of my front door made me jolt awake.
I’d forgotten I’d fallen asleep on the couch until my head turned to the sound of heels walking into the room. “What are you doing here?” I groaned.
Bridgette closed the door behind her. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“What is there to talk about?” I stood and went to start a cup of coffee.
“I’m sorry.”
I laughed. “Sorry? Let me guess, you fell?”
“What?” Bridgette asked coming up behind me. She sat on the bar stool while I prepared the Keurig.
“You fell on his dick?”
She sighed and repeated, “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t answer my question, but I knew the answer. I turned around and crossed my arms over my chest. “Sorry? How long has it been going on?”
“Does it matter?”
I stared into her brown eyes, not replying. Did it matter? Did I want her back? Obviously, she was here to talk which meant she wanted to get back together. Did I want that? Could I trust her again?
“Why?” I finally asked.
Bridgette averted her eyes. “I don’t really have an answer. It just happened.”
“How many times?”
“Just a few.”
“Here? In my bed?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I cleaned up afterward.”
The Keurig gargled behind me indicating my coffee was almost made. “Just go,” I hissed and turned around to get my coffee.
“Baby—”
I snapped. “Nothing you will say will ever make this situation okay, Bridgette. It’s over. Get the fuck out!”
I went to the fridge to grab the creamer as she slid off the barstool. “You know I was only with you so I could meet hockey players. Right?”
I rose from the fridge. “I thought you hated sports?”
Bridgette smirked. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get with any. Do you know how much money they make?”
I did.
“Have fun meeting them now.” I slammed the door of the fridge. “Take care, Bridge, and leave your fucking key on the island.”
There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to make this day any better.
The following Friday, the Hawks had a game against the Nashville Predators. I hadn’t heard anything from Bridgette again, and I hadn’t heard anything from Ashtyn other than the morning after we met. Granted it was just a text, but at least I had her number now. I spent all of my time at work, going over stats for upcoming games, not wanting to go home to an empty condo. If I knew Ashtyn’s condo number, I’d go over there. I was sure I could figure it out, maybe even text her for it, but I wasn’t going to chase after her. She was going through shit too, and time would tell what was meant to happen.
A few nights during the week, I’d caught her broadcast and each time talked myself out of contacting her. I told her to use me, not the other way around. If she didn’t want to get together, then I was sure there was someone else for me. That didn’t stop me from thinking about her at night while I jerked off.
“News is on in the break room,” Kenny informed me, sliding into his desk chair that was in the cubicle across from me. He was shorter than me by a few inches, had shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. Kenny had been my best friend since the moment we’d both started at the station, and he was like my right hand man.
“And?”
“Your girl’s lookin’ hot tonight.”
“My girl?” I eyed him curiously.
“Ashtyn Valor.”
A smile spread on my face. “She’s not my girl.”
“Everyone’s seen the picture, and you told me it was the night you caught Bridgette cheating. It adds up.”
I threw my pen down on the pad of paper and leaned back, turning my head to look at him. “There’s nothing to add up. I haven’t talked to her since that night.”
“But you want to,” he pressed, smirking.
“What are we, in high school?”
Kenny chuckled. “All I’m sayin’ is that if I had the number for Ashtyn Valor, I’d be all over that—and under that.”
“And this is why you’re single.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You think she’d give you the time of day if she heard you talk like that?”
“I wouldn’t know. You would know,” he emphasized and leaned forward. His dark brown eyes brightened as though he was amused and wanted to know more.
“I’ve been busy,” I lied. I was working as much as possible, but I did it for an escape.
“Go check out the TV in the break room, and if you come back and tell me you don’t want to hit that, then I’ll drop it.”
I didn’t need to go to the break room. I knew I wanted to get with Ashtyn. I was still thinking about her soft lips and how I wanted to feel them on more than just my lips. “Nah, man. I just need to find someone else to warm my bed. Tomorrow night. Judy’s.” I motioned between him and me. “We’re gonna get laid.”
Since my breakup with Bridgette, I’d turned my condo back into a bachelor pad. There were no more flowers or fringy shit in sight in my entire place, and I bought new sheets, new pillows and a new comforter for my bed. I didn’t buy a new mattress. Instead, I vacuumed the shit out of it and hoped that worked. I also had my TV only on ESPN because if I had to see one more yelling match between middle-aged women who were supposed to be rich and classy, I’d lose my ever-loving mind.
As I got ready to head out with the guys, a memory of mine and Bridgette’s one year anniversary entered my mind.
“Damn,” I whistled. “Baby, that dress. God, that dress.”
“You like?” Bridgette twirled around, and my eyes instantly went to her ass that was covered by a short—very short—red dress.
“Yeah, I do, but so will all the other guys in this town.” I couldn’t move as I continued to stare. I knew what she looked like naked, but this dress was something else. It hugged every curve of her body.
“I don’t care. I’m with you, and this is our one year anniversary. I wanted to look nice.”
“I’m not sure I can make it through dinner. Let’s just stay in and order pizza.”
“You promised me a special dinner.”
I’d made reservations at the Signature Room on the ninety-fifth floor of the John Hancock Building. I’d seen pictures of the view from way up there, and I thought it would be perfect. Plus, I could actually afford it now.
She bent to do something. I wasn’t sure what because the moment she did, her skirt exposed her bare pussy. “I think I love you.” I said the words before they registered in my head.
“You love me?”
Did I? I loved seeing her in that dress. I would also love seeing her out of that dress. And I fucking loved pussy, and I had just caught a glimpse of Bridgette’s. But since my mouth had a mind of its own, I went with it.
“Yeah. I love you,” I lied.
“I love you too,” Bridgette squealed.
That night had cost me a pretty penny. I should have known that Bridgette was a gold digger. She’d ordered the lobster and multiple cocktails. When we got back to my place that night, she was too tired to celebrate our anniversary, and therefore, she passed out while I jerked off in the shower.
I chased the memory away with thoughts of Ashtyn. I could still feel her lips on mine. I could remember the way the wine tasted on her tongue, and how she had parted her mouth to let me deepen the kiss despite how our evening went earlier. If I was being honest with myself, I’d been thinking about that kiss for the last week. I wanted more, but again, the ball was in her court. Women needed time and all that shit.
My phone buzzed with a text from Kenny:
I’m here. Let’s go.
I grabbed my keys instead of texting him back, and
left to meet him downstairs so we could walk across the street to the bar.
Judy’s was your typical bar where people loved to unwind on a Friday or Saturday night. It had a rustic sports bar feel to it, but they only served alcohol. You couldn’t get food, but you could catch any sports game playing because they had TVs hung throughout that made sure to have something on it. The games were muted while music played, but I didn’t need to hear other broadcasters telling me what I already knew from watching.
The weather was starting to get colder at night, but I didn’t want to carry a jacket while I let loose, and I wanted to let loose. Working long hours was starting to get to me. Journalism wasn’t what it was cracked up to be, but when you had to live and breathe your profession, it became a part of you. I still needed at least one night a week to let off some steam.
“Hey,” I greeted Kenny as I came out of the double doors of my building. He was dressed similarly to me in jeans and a button-down shirt.
“It’s about time. I’m freezing my balls off.”
I laughed. “You could have waited inside the doors, jackass.”
“Whatever. Clark and Jett are meeting us there.”
We started walking, and I glanced up at Ashtyn’s building wondering what floor she was on and if she was home. God, this woman had me all twisted up inside. I definitely needed to get laid tonight.
Whenever I went out drinking with the guys, Kenny parked his car in my guest parking spot because it was easier than finding a place on the street. Plus, nine out of ten times he’d crash on my couch or, if he was going to get laid, he’d go to her place. Clark and Jett lived in the same part of town and usually took an Uber together. Jett was my co-anchor, and Kenny and Clark were our news writers who made sure the stats were correct before Jett and I told all of Chicago. It was cool having friends you worked with. I didn’t have to field questions the entire night about the Blackhawks because they already knew what was up. We could just hang and have a nice night of getting drunk.
We made it the few blocks to Judy’s and then bee-lined it straight for the bar where Jett and Clark were waiting for us. Jett was built like a hockey player because he used to be one. He was one hell of a fighter. He’d go round and round with them, and most of the time helmets would fly off, and his finger-length black hair would flop around. But it was the determination in his blue eyes that most men feared when going toe to toe with him. He’d had plenty of concussions over the years, but the one he got in his last game was enough to give him post-concussion syndrome. He never returned to the ice as a pro.
Clark was the opposite. He hadn’t played pro, and he hadn’t played in college either. He got into sports journalism for the same reason I did. He loved the game. His dark hair was always spiked in a way that looked like he just rolled out of bed, and when we’d joke with him that he rolled out of bed with a woman, he’d smile his crooked smile, and his azure eyes would shine deviously. He was a ladies man because he looked like the boy next door with his sweaters and shit, but I knew the truth. He’d let the women borrow some sugar in exchange for some sugar.
“Did you order us a round?” I asked them.
Jett chuckled. “Nope.”
“Asshole.” I raised my hand to get Tommy’s attention.
He came over. “The usual or seven and seven?”
While a seven and seven sounded delicious, I needed to pace myself. “The usual.” Tommy grabbed a pint glass and started to pour me a Miller Lite from the tap.
Kenny nudged me. “Your girl’s here.”
I turned my head in the direction he was facing and smiled when I saw her ass moving to the beat of the song playing in the background.
My girl was here all right.
Dear Ashtyn,
Just when I thought I knew all about you, you surprised me.
I read this quote and thought of you:
Wine is bottled poetry. - Robert Luis Stevenson
-SA
After the weekend I’d had, it was nice to get my weekly roses. It felt good to know someone admired me, except this note made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Just when I thought I knew all about you, you surprised me.” What did that mean? The thought of some random person sending me flowers each week was now starting to feel weird, though I was sure actors, models, and authors received gifts from fans all the time. Didn’t mean anything, right?
The week passed, and you’d think that each day would get easier, but I caught myself thinking about the one-time Corey told me he loved me.
The warm wind whipped through my blonde hair as Corey held my hand, leading me to Navy Pier for dinner. I was starting to feel things for him. I loved spending time with him, and I looked forward to Saturday morning when I could wake up next to him. I knew I loved him. I wanted to tell him, but I was waiting for him to tell me first because I wasn’t sure how he felt. We’d only been dating for five months, but I knew we could last forever. I could envision myself walking down the aisle in a white dress I’d pinned on Pinterest with all of our friends and family there. I wanted that. I wanted that with Corey.
“Where are we going to dinner?”
“Riva Crab House.”
I smiled. Crab was one of my favorite things to eat.
We had a view of the water as we ate, and afterward, we decided to take a walk to the end of the pier. “I had my prom there.” I pointed to the glass windows that housed a giant ballroom at the end of the pier.
“Me too.” Corey chuckled. We went to different high schools, and were four years apart, but I knew it was a common location for proms. “I was Prom King.”
“You were not.” I slapped his arm playfully and chuckled.
“I was.”
“Why have you never told me that?”
“That was nineteen years ago.”
“You make us sound so old.” I groaned. I wasn’t far behind him in age, but it had been fifteen years since my senior prom. Just then there was a loud boom, and when I looked up, glittery silver showered the sky. After some time I said, “I love fireworks. They’re so beautiful.” I looked over to see Corey watching me.
“So are you, Ashtyn.”
“You don’t have to woo me. I’m already yours.” I leaned into him, still looking up at the show.
Corey wrapped his arm around my waist and chuckled. “I’m not trying to woo you. I’m stating facts.”
I looked at him. “Well, thank you.”
He smiled. “And, I love you.”
How was I so stupid? Everything had seemed perfect that night. Granted, Corey never uttered those three words again, and I should have taken that as a sign, but I never expected him to be such a good actor.
Saturday morning as I read the morning newspaper, my phone buzzed next to me.
Jamie: Girl’s night tonight?
Usually, I’d spend my Saturday evenings with Corey like we had the night we went to see the fireworks, but now I was free in a sense, and I needed my friends to keep my mind off my breakup.
Me: Judy’s?
Jamie: I’ll meet you at your place at nine.
At nine o’clock sharp, there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, Jaime and our friends Kylie and Colleen were standing there with huge smiles on their faces. The more the merrier. Now I could answer their burning questions and be done with it.
When the four of us got together, we looked like we’d stepped out of an episode of Sex and the City. Kylie had her dark brown hair up in a high ponytail, her bangs perfect across her forehead. Her brown eyes sparkled as she held up a bottle of Patrón. Colleen’s red hair was cut into a pixie cut, and her petite frame was opposite of her big green eyes, but they worked for her face. And Jaime had her blonde hair loosely curled.
“We brought tequila!” Jaime squealed, and Kylie thrust the bottle toward me. It was then I noticed Colleen had a bag of limes, chips, and salsa.
“We’re having girl’s night here?” I thought we were going to the bar.
All three of th
em moved around me and into my condo. “It’s the pre-party,” Kylie confirmed.
“This way we only need to have one or two drinks at Judy’s.”
“Or for you three to stall and quiz me about Corey,” I commented, following them to the open kitchen.
Jaime grinned. “We also want to know about Rhys.” Even though I’d told her all there was to know already about Rhys, a week had passed and apparently, she thought we were more of a thing. We weren’t. I hadn’t heard from him since.
“Rhys?” I questioned, sliding onto a barstool while they got to work with the shots and snacks.
“We haven’t heard from you since your breakup,” Kylie stated.
That was true. I hadn’t responded to their texts either. The Sunday after my breakup, I’d stayed home all day. I didn’t want to talk to people, and I was still confused about the whole situation. One minute I was getting my heart broken, and then the next I was kissing a new guy. A guy I hadn’t heard from and was probably using me to get in my pants, but I wasn’t the type to have a booty call on speed dial. Though the thought of it being Rhys did things deep in my belly.
“Basically, I spent almost a year of my life dating a guy for nothing.”
Jaime came over to me with a shot of the tequila. “But how are you really feeling?”
“Alcohol has been my new best friend this week.” Most night after I got home from work, I would drink a glass of wine and then take a hot shower before drinking another glass before bed. It was the only way for me to sleep because every time I tried to do it without any wine, I would crawl into my king-sized bed and reach my hand over into the cold, empty space and then cry before I’d get up in search of wine.
Use Me Page 4