by T. J. West
June is a very beautiful, sexy woman, but I can’t get passed seeing what she’s done to her body. I don’t like tattoos plain and simple. Even though I feel this way it doesn’t mean I want to hurt her. “I’m sorry,” I apologize softly. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
She exhales, looking down at her feet and shrugs, “Yeah, well. . . . you can’t help how you feel . . . I’m just not your type. I get it.”
I gently lift her chin, wanting her to look at me. “Will you be okay?”
She laughs without any humor. “No. . . . I fucked Faith’s boyfriend.” Her eyes begin to tear up, getting red. “How can I be okay with that?”
June leaves me standing in my entryway feeling like shit. I messed up and I’m not sure how to fix it.
Chapter 2
June Tyndall
I AM MORTIFIED AND DEEPLY ashamed of myself; how could I do this to Faith of all people? She’s my best friend and I betrayed her. I don’t care if she was just using Phillip for her own selfish needs, I still betrayed her. How will she ever forgive me?
When I got home from Phillip’s house, I scrubbed my body like three times before I felt clean enough to get out. I didn’t want to smell his scent on my body any longer, no matter how good he smelled—and man did he smell great. The scent of his masculine cologne was just. . . . . . shit, I need to stop! I can’t let myself go there, thinking about him and wanting him, feeling his mouth on my clit—wow he was really good down there. Ugh, there I go again! I’m not his type and never will be. I just need to stay clear of my feelings for him and move on—plain and simple. Yet, is it really that simple? I just slept with the dude! How is that simple? On top of that, he’s still in love with Faith. I’ll never meet up to his standards; I’ll never be the girl without the graphic body art, piercings in my belly and nose, and ever changing hair color. I’m not that girl. I like rock and roll, I like putting art on my body and I like switching up my hair color. That’s who I am and if he can’t see me for who I am on the inside? Screw him! Screw his judgmental thoughts about me. Oh, but yes, he was so sorry about hurting my feelings—fuck that! He can just kiss my ass! I don’t care what he thinks of me! It’s his loss anyways.
After one day of trying to get Faith to answer her door, I gave up and headed back to the studio. I had tons of work to do, yet my mind would not let me forget about sleeping with Phillip. I want to rip my hair out every time I think about his perfectly sculpted body. My God his body is unbelievable; his rippled abs, broad, muscular shoulders, arms, the V that leads down to his cock—holy shit he’s a beautiful man. Although I want to bury that one fateful night, I can’t forget the way he looked at me—yes he was drunk, but he still looked at me with hunger and desire. His green eyes, holy crap I can drown in those eyes, they are gorgeous—he’s gorgeous dammit and he’s not mine to drown in! Ugh, I really need to stop thinking about him! I chuck the rest of my work and call it a day. I text my good friend, Peta, and ask her if I can stop by her place so I can get this heavy feeling off of my chest; I need to talk to someone.
Peta is a drop dead, gorgeous bombshell; she’s got long wavy red hair, is tall, lean, and has a great rack, along with kickass curves—the lady needs to be a runway model—that’s how unfuckingbelievably HOT she is!
“How Peta? How would you tell your best friend that you slept with her boyfriend?” I ask, while she comes around the sofa with a glass of wine for me. Wine is a deal breaker with Peta—you have a problem, drink a glass of wine. I am certainly not complaining with her choice of remedy.
She sits down next to me, grinning. “First of all, I wouldn’t sleep with Sandy’s boyfriend—husband. Second, I’m engaged.”
I sway my head back with frustration. “I’m not talking literally, I’m talking figuratively!”
“Girl, I know you are, but even in the most heated moment would I ever consider jumping Quinn’s bones, he’s too intense and controlling.” She takes a sip of her wine, then continues with a shrug, “Plus he never had the hots for me anyways, but it looks as though Phillip had the hots for you or he wouldn’t have tried to get you in the sack.”
“Oh, he clearly stated I am not his type.” And boy, did he ever say I was not his type; I could feel his eyes darting from point A to point B on every part of my body, and it wasn’t because he thought I was hot. He definitely did not like my tattoos.
“Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck you,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Point taken.” I lean back, slouching, drinking this amazing wine—where the hell did she get this stuff? It’s very tasty. “Since Faith cheated on Phillip anyways, do you think she would be more understanding?”
She looks at me as if I just burst a brain vessel. “June . . . there is only way to find out—tell her the truth! You ignoring her is not going to help. It’s only going to make her pissed off and I don’t think you want that. Plus you need her too and by pushing her away you’re only hurting yourself—possibly more than it’s hurting Faith.”
Clearly she knows more about being a best friend than I do; best friends don’t stab each other in the backs, they tell each other the truth whether it’s good for them or not.
After a much needed girl talk, it was time for me to get home. Although I still feel like shit, at least I had someone who I could lay out all of my personal baggage to. “Thanks for letting me come over.” I hug my friend. “I really needed you to kick my ass.”
Peta pats my back. “That’s what friends are for.”
I am about to walk out the door when I totally forgot to ask Peta about her fiance,’ Scott. Here I am being a big baby over my one-night-stand while my dear friend is probably sick with worry. Scott is in the Military; he’s been in the middle east for half a year. What she must be going through on a daily basis—I can’t imagine. “Oh, hey, any word on when Scott is coming back?”
Her dark olive eyes suddenly turn from happy to sad. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought Scott up? It seems as if this is a painful subject. “He says four more months, but you never know,” she shrugs. “They’re always pushing the date back.”
“I’m so sorry. It must be extremely difficult.”
“Yeah, it is, but,” she puts on a brave face and smiles. “I just keep on chugging with work and spending my time with hot rock bands who keep me from going insane,” she ends on a small laugh.
I smile and do my best to lighten the mood. “Atta girl!” We give each other one more hug before I leave.
After three days of trying to get Faith to open her door, I had security unlock it for me. I needed to know what the hell was wrong with her. Plus I needed to come clean about my buried secret. Unfortunately I lost my confidence. There is no way I could tell her. When she confessed after having sex with Lucky on the terrace, I wanted to scream, because I knew I may be in the clear. Maybe she wouldn’t even care I slept with her boyfriend? Yet I could tell she wasn’t going to get past it that easily; she never wanted to cheat on Phillip. Yes we both did the unthinkable, but I was there to comfort her and to help her realize what she did wasn’t the end of the world; she wasn’t committed to Phillip. I wanted to lighten her guilt just to help me feel less guilty—I was a selfish bitch.
A few weeks go by and I haven’t seen Phillip, spoken to him or thought about him. . . . . . Okay, I’m lying. I’ve been thinking about him non-stop and wish I can get him out of my head. He doesn’t want me, so why do I even want to think about him? One reason. . . . .he’s fucking hot as shit! Second, he’s great in bed. Third. . . . . . I don’t have a third—I’m just a crazy lonely fool. I haven’t dated in months because of BT2090. Starting a new business takes up so much of my time that dating has gone out the window. So imagine me getting a booty-call from a gorgeous guy who was pretty much taken by my best friend. Okay at first it wasn’t a booty-call, but turned into one—someone who actually wanted to sleep with me because he needed a good fuck just as much as I did? I said hell yes and took him like last nights dessert. It was the best sex I�
�ve had since . . . . . . . I cannot remember the last time. I was a crazy, lonely, drunken fool.
I had to stop, get my mind back on track and make music my number one focus again. JINKS was playing at Reds and I texted Faith to come join me for a fun night out. We hadn’t seen one another for awhile, I’ve been avoiding her after the night she confessed to me about her and Lucky. I had to get out of my funk and make it look like I was just too busy for anyone—such a joke. Anyhow, getting Faith to hang with me was just my little plan of reuniting her and Lucky. Those two belonged together, whether Faith saw it or not; getting her to come to Reds was just the beginning. It was a brilliant plan. Not only did I get Faith to meet me, but her mother was in town. Mrs. M. was all over this plan like ants on sugar; she knew what I was thinking the moment I stepped away from the table to go talk with Peta. Plus I insisted driving her home after the show was over. We both were beaming when we left. We knew Faith and Lucky were going to get their shit together—it was so obvious. Lucky was determined to break down Faith’s wall even if it meant pissing her off—which he did. I pissed her off too; she knew my master plan and it totally worked.
Sometime in the middle of the night I woke up dashing to the bathroom, throwing up. I felt like shit. I checked my temperature, but no fever. I must have eaten something last night that didn’t settle right. I drank a spoonful of Pepto Bismol hoping that would settle the queasiness. . . . .nope. . . . .I threw up again. In fact it made my stomach even more upset. I tried a lemon lime soda, climbed into bed and fell back to sleep. An hour later I stormed into the bathroom throwing up the soda. After two more dry heaves I curled up in a ball and fell asleep in front of the toilet. I felt like the dead when I woke up, but thankfully I didn’t feel sick anymore. It just had to be something I ate. Unfortunately the rest of the week didn’t go much better. Every day, at random times, I ended back in front of the toilet on my knees, barfing. I couldn’t eat; everything I smelled or looked at made me sick. What the fuck was going on! By the end of the week I was convinced I was pregnant—my period was a few weeks late. There was no doubt I was pregnant with Phillip’s kid. What the hell was I going to do now?
I’d been too preoccupied with being pregnant and work that apparently Faith and Lucky have rekindled their relationship. I knew it was going to happen; my plan worked, thank goodness! The week after JINKS’ show at Reds, Faith arranged a dinner party at the hotel for Friday night. I told her I was going to be there, but now I would have to change my plans. I could not go, being pregnant had changed everything. I really can’t believe this is happening to me, it’s a nightmare. I am so afraid! I can’t even go to my parents I’m so afraid! They are so set on me getting married first and then starting a family, they would be so disappointed in me. It would break their hearts, I don’t want to do that to them. They’re such good parents; happy, joyful, and fun. They never spanked me, or raised their voices, yet I always knew when they were disappointed in me. They didn’t have to speak in anger for me to know how upset they were. That’s what’s going to happen when I tell them about being pregnant. I don’t want to see the downcast look in their eyes, it will devastate me. I was always a daddy’s girl and never did wrong in his eyes. I was his perfect little angel. Well, now his perfect little angel has become a hot mess. Pregnant and alone.
I almost forgot to call Faith. I fell asleep after I got home from the studio, feeling exhausted and sick to my stomach. I hadn’t thrown up since early this morning, but my body was in need of some deep sleep. While I lay in bed, watching the movie Twilight, I text Faith about not showing up for dinner. I know she counted on me being there, but I can’t go feeling like crap. Plus I look like shit. She would immediately pick up on something and would know I am not doing well. I’m not ready to tell her about being pregnant. Furthermore I’m not ready to spill the beans on who the father is.
I had to get this over with. Telling Phillip he was going to be a father was not something I was jumping up and down for. I never wanted this to happen, but it did. A week later I asked him to meet me at the studio.
JINKS had just left when Phillip comes storming inside. He looks irritated, flustered. I have a pile of folders in my arms and place them on the glass, oval table. I am almost hesitant to ask him what’s wrong; we haven’t spoken or seen one another since the morning I left his apartment. “Uh. . . . What’s going on out there?”
He swipes a hand through his hair and points to the door, “Lucky. That’s what.” He grips the back of the chair from the oval table and looks down.
I’ve had enough of this shit. When is he going to get over her? “You need to get over Faith, Phillip,” I huff.
His head snaps up. “He’s the one that fucked everything up!”
“Will you please stop!” I shout. “She never loved you, Phillip! Plus you fucked it up, too. . . . by sleeping with me!”
Immediately he replies back, “Not if I hadn’t caught them fucking upstairs on the night of their party!” He slams the chair against the table and rakes his fingers through his hair again.
I’m at complete loss. Did I hear him right? “Wait, what? You. . . . .” I put a hand to my mouth, shaking my head. “Oh my God, you knew about it? You saw them?”
He exhales sharply. “Yes.”
I hold a finger up, lowering my voice, “So let me get this straight. You asked me over because you said you were worried about Faith, yet you knew what had happened? You pretended with me and played me; got me drunk so you could pay her back?” Please say it’s not true!
His whole body sinks; defeated. “I’m really sorry, June.”
Holy shit, it is true, I am so humiliated! “You are an asshole,” I point at him. “. . . . and I am a naive fool.” I place my hand on my forehead, breathing hard.
He moves away from the chair and walks toward me. “No, you’re not.”
“Like hell I’m not!” I am in rage, so pissed off I want to hit him. I look up into his eyes, seething. “I walked right inside your little trap and took the bait. You fucking played me and now I am a few weeks late!” I’m breathing hard, out of breath. There, I said it. I dumped my little information right into his lap without a moments notice. I want to cry I am so upset!
He looks at me with confusion, caught off guard. “A few weeks late?”
I lick my lips and look away. “My period. It’s late.”
He pinches the inner corners of his eyes, trying to comprehend what I just revealed. “Maybe . . . . . . .”
I cross my arms over my chest, looking down at my feet. He’s mere inches from me, yet I feel a hundred feet away from him. “There is no maybe. My period is always on time. I’m on the pill . . . but . . .” I pause. “I forgot to take it on the night of the party.” I was so stupid, forgetting to take that pill. I’ve been on the pill since I was 16 years old and have never missed a day in my life! The one time I forget. . . . the one time I didn’t pay attention to my cycle. . . . . . so stupid!
“Condom,” shaking his head. “I didn’t wear a condom.”
“Wow, aren’t we a pair?” I could just laugh, this has to be the most unbelievable shit! I back away from Phillip and lift my ass onto the oval table.
He put his hands on his hips and looks at me. “Listen, maybe it’s a mistake. Did you take a test?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“You see? You don’t even know yet.”
I point to my chest. “I know my body, Phillip! I’ve been barfing my brains out all week!”
He quickly traps me by placing both of his hands on each side of me; I lean back when he yells in my face, “Will you please just take a goddamned test!”
He is angry, scared—just like I am. We both made this happen, we both made the choice of sleeping with one another; I didn’t have to go over to his place and get drunk—I wanted to. What we did was stupid and selfish. We weren’t thinking about the consequences, what could have happened—what did happen. Now we’re going to pay for it, literally.
Phi
llip took me to the drugstore and bought me a pregnancy test. We drove back to my place in silence; there was nothing to talk about. Our nerves are on edge, petrified about the possibility of becoming parents. I already know I’m pregnant, but he needs proof, I guess I do too.
After several agonizing minutes I come out of the bathroom, holding up the test. “It’s positive,” I whisper.
He yells, “Fuck!” He turns away from me, walks out of my apartment and slams the door shut. I flinch from the loud, hollow sound of the door and instantly fall to my knees; tucking my arms around the middle of my stomach and rock back and forth—crying.
He left me. . . . alone. He left me alone, scared and pregnant.
I’ve been so out of touch with Faith, I feel like such a bitch about it. Her father died and I didn’t even reply to her about how sorry I was. I know she’s been in pain, and I’ve been giving her the cold shoulder. I blew up at her when she came to visit me at the studio; had I known she was going to come without giving me a heads up I might have prepared for it. I looked horrible and she noticed it; I’d lost weight, had dark circles under my eyes and my mood swings were out of control. If only I had the guts to tell her exactly what was going on with me, maybe I wouldn’t have been such a pain in the ass.
All week Phillip has been MIA as well. He won’t return any of my messages—he’s being a complete jerk. How does he think I’m going to manage this on my own? Doesn’t he even care about what I’m going through? How scary this is for me? It hurts so much. I want someone with me when I’m not feeling good, someone who will let me cry on their shoulder, someone who will rub my back when I am in complete exhaustion from working all day. Ha! Like Phillip would really do those things for me. He’s trapped in his own self guilt about getting me pregnant, he’s not even thinking of me, the child we created. Asshole.