“You’re absolutely right, Tatum. Had I not asked you to—”
“Made me. Don’t make it sound like it was a request. You forced me to.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry. I forgot about your Stockholm syndrome. My bad.” He cleared his throat and fought against the smirk threatening to tip his lips. “Anyway, as much as I’d love to pay for a room so you can hide out for the weekend, that’s simply not going to happen.”
I turned to face him, gasping in feigned shock. “You’d leave me homeless for three days?”
“I didn’t say that.” He peered at me from the corner of his eye as he turned at the green light. “But it’s ridiculous to pay for a hotel room when I have my own place you can stay at for free.”
Butterflies swarmed my stomach, while fear swelled in my chest. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because, Jason. It’d be weird.” I didn’t want him to think I was moving in the day after sleeping with him. “I’m not a stage-five clinger, and if I stay with you, that’s exactly what I’ll look like.”
“Do you plan to tell anyone about last night? Or that you’re staying with me instead of going to see your parents?”
“No. Why in the world would I do that?”
“I don’t know; that’s why I asked. If no one knows, then why are you so worried about how it’ll look? If you’re worried about me, don’t. I wouldn’t offer if I had an issue with it, or if I thought you were capable of clinging to the fifth stage.”
I settled into the seat and stared out the window. Without any other options, I didn’t have much of a choice. “Fine. But I’m staying in the guest room.”
“Yeah . . . we’ll see about that.”
“Jason.” I glared at him with enough effort to burn a hole into the side of his head. “Don’t be stupid. Staying over last night was one thing, but we’re not going to make a habit of it. Got it?”
“They say it takes doing something for thirty days to create a habit. I think we’ll be fine with three.”
“Let me guess,” I said with my arms crossed like a defiant child. “You expect sex every night?”
I’d meant it as a joke, yet seeing his wide eyes showed he hadn’t taken it as such. “N-no. That’s not, uh . . . that’s not what I meant.”
“So you don’t want sex every night?” This brazen side of me was new, brought on by a wild night with Jason. I felt powerful. Not to mention, it was entertaining to watch him stumble on his next words.
“I’m kind of scared to answer, if I’m being honest.”
I hummed and turned my attention to the window again, knowing I wouldn’t get it out while looking at him. “That’s too bad, because the only way I’ll sleep in your bed is if you make it worth my while.”
He hit the brakes a little too hard and swerved, scaring the ever-loving crap out of me.
“I’m sure there’s something I can do,” he said with a smile, as if he hadn’t almost driven off the road for no reason.
“Just as long as it’s not dinner, I’ll be fine.”
13
Jason
“Your friend decided not to come?” Aaron asked when I joined him in the back seat of the Uber.
He’d gotten us hooked up with a VIP section through the chick he’d met at Taste of the Town. I was surprised, considering it was a Saturday night and he’d apparently set this up recently. Then again, when Aaron wanted something, he usually found a way to make it happen.
I shrugged, trying to act like Tatum’s decision to stay at the house didn’t bother me. “She’s not much of a partier.” While that might have been true, her decision had more to do with not wanting to get caught in a lie than it did her lack of desire to go out.
Technically, I hadn’t even wanted to come, but Aaron had made a big deal about how he’d set it all up for me, my last hoorah before starting my job on Monday. I’d eventually given in, mostly to shut him up, and figured I’d just leave early if I wasn’t having fun. It was ten, so midnight would give me a solid two hours, and if I was enjoying myself, I’d stay later.
“Tell me again who she is? Do I know her?”
“She’s just a friend who’s crashing at my place for the weekend.” I left out the part that they had met once before—not for any particular reason other than my own personal need to keep her to myself.
“Oh.” Insinuation flooded his tone. “A postbreakup booty call of sorts?”
“Something like that.”
“Does she know that’s all it is?”
I groaned to myself, not really wanting to discuss this with him. “We talked about it.”
That made me think about the conversation Tatum and I had had over lunch yesterday. We’d just gotten back from dropping off my paperwork at Wiseman, and to my surprise, she’d made us both sandwiches. We’d needed to discuss everything before any assumptions could be made, yet admitting that I wasn’t interested in more than sex had basically justified Kelsey’s accusations. I’d never felt like more of an ass than I had then.
“We’re both basically dealing with the same shit as far as relationships are concerned,” I continued.
The driver parked next to the curb and waited silently until we exited his vehicle. If the thumping of the bass and throngs of people crowding the door were any indication, I wouldn’t be here long.
However, Aaron’s hookup didn’t disappoint. We were escorted to the far side of the dim room, just past the first packed bar. A small balcony-like area sat raised about four and a half feet higher than the main floor, with a few steps that led to the platform. A waist-high rail lined the front of the space, making it semiprivate. I’d seen roped-off sections like this one in the past, and I had always wanted to know what it was like to be in one. Now that I was here, I found it rather depressing—I didn’t feel like the rock star I’d thought I would.
I followed him, feeling very much like an outsider as he greeted four other guys in the secluded alcove with man hugs. I didn’t know any of them, and while I’d never had much of a problem meeting new people, I simply lacked the enthusiasm to do so tonight. Not to mention, loud music, flashing lights, and a packed club didn’t exactly make for the best time to gain new friends.
A small hand settled along my lower back, and for a split second, I thought it might’ve been Tatum. But when I turned around, I noticed the girl with pink hair who’d hooked us up with the space. It shouldn’t have left me disappointed, yet it did.
“I have the bar stocked for you guys tonight,” she yelled close to my ear while pointing to a buffet-style table against the side wall. “If you want something that’s not there, let me know, and I’ll see if I can bring it up. If not, I’ll have to get it from one of the bars on the floor, but it won’t be complimentary.”
I leaned over even more and brought my lips to her ear. “These drinks are free?”
When I saw her bright smile, my night started to look up. However, the change in my mood had nothing to do with her and everything to do with free alcohol, but that didn’t need to be admitted out loud.
Two love seats sat in the center of the small space, a table between them and a chair on either side. This area wasn’t meant for a crowd, although I wouldn’t be surprised if it surpassed its maximum number of occupants on a regular basis. Like now, for instance. Aaron had told me we were meeting up with a few of his buddies, yet from my spot on the sofa, I counted nine guys—not including me—and four girls. And that number continued to fluctuate as others came and went from either the restroom or the dance floor.
I enjoyed a few drinks while the company around me continued to rotate. At least Aaron did a decent job pretending to make this night about me and my job, so I couldn’t really complain. And the alcohol was free. The women I could’ve done without, probably because I wasn’t interested in having them hang on me, though the other guys didn’t seem to mind. One thing that was hard to ignore, though, was the lack of female attention Aaron seemed to garner. Back in
high school, he’d talked a big game, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was something else he hadn’t grown out of.
“You look lonely.” A feminine voice came from my side, taking the seat Aaron had just vacated. When I turned to her, she smiled and held up a shot glass. “Here, take one with me.”
I accepted the green liquor she offered and brought it to my nose. “What is it?”
“It’s called a leg spreader.” She giggled at my shocked reaction. “Just take it.”
“What’s in it?”
She playfully batted my arm and held up her glass, waiting for the friendly clink she assumed I’d give. When I didn’t so much as lift my hand, she rolled her eyes and gave in. “It’s vodka and Midori.”
Well, that would explain the color. I sniffed it once more and then tapped the edge of her glass with mine. We both tossed our drinks back and set the empty shooters on the table in front of us at the same time. I had to admit, it wasn’t that bad, although it wouldn’t be something I’d ever voluntarily ask for—unless Tatum wanted to give it a try.
Damn . . . I needed something stronger. If I didn’t get her off my mind, I’d be a miserable couch potato in the middle of a VIP section at a rather popular nightclub. If that didn’t prove how much I’d changed over the years, I wasn’t sure what would.
“Did you like it?” she asked, and for the first time since she’d sat next to me, I realized she hadn’t even told me her name.
“I’ve had worse.” I was about to introduce myself when she held up one finger and pushed off the cushion. Right before I was about to get up and make a new drink, she returned with two more shots. This time, when she handed me mine, I could tell by the first whiff what it was. “Crown?”
“I’m impressed.”
I tipped it back, savored the familiar flavor as it went down smooth, and then set the empty glass on the table at the same time she put hers down. But this time, instead of getting up for more, she waved Sherry over. Wait, that wasn’t right. Tatum had told me her name as I’d helped her from the tent to her car, yet I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. It started with an S. Maybe. Probably not.
I didn’t care.
I still had no idea who this other chick was, let alone why she was hanging out with the pink-haired girl, who had probably pulled a lot of strings to get this section reserved for Aaron. It seemed these two women were familiar with each other, though. Either that, or I had just become that guy—the one who paid more attention to a fly on the wall than the barely covered ass in my face.
I figured I needed to come up with something to call her, since she clearly wasn’t interested in introductions. So, Megan Fox it was. With her long jet-black hair, it seemed fitting. Granted, absolutely nothing else about this woman resembled the famous actress, but it was either that or Cher, and I had a hard time reconciling the thought of drinking anything dubbed leg spreader with the songstress.
I blamed my mother and her Sonny Bono obsession.
“She’s going to bring up a tray from the bar, but she said they have to be all different kinds so they won’t ask too many questions.” Her smile stretched so wide it caused her to squint, and I wondered if knowing the shooter girl had given her some sort of pride.
“Awesome. I’m going to grab another drink. Would you like anything?” It was a good thing she said no, because I wasn’t sure I could mix whatever girly shit she had in her cup. Rum and Coke was simple; cocktails that came with a list of ingredients and sexually provocative titles were not. If someone had asked me to make a sex on the beach, I’d likely come back with water infused with salt and a handful of sand.
“She’s hot, isn’t she?” Aaron nudged my shoulder while nodding toward Megan. “It’s her birthday, so we invited her up. Too bad you can’t take her home with you . . . unless your friend is into that shit. If that’s the case, I’m totally in.”
“There’s so much wrong with that I can’t even begin to sort through half of it.” Although, I had to admit, the goofy grin that hung lazily from his lips made me laugh, even if it was at him. “Do you know who she is? She literally sat down and started pouring liquor down my throat without so much as introducing herself.”
“Just call her baby or sweetness or honeypot. Just don’t call her tomorrow.” He jabbed his elbow into my side and wagged his brows.
“If that’s what I used to sound like, I need to go to confession and say about a million Hail Marys. And that might only cover freshman year.”
“You’re not even Catholic.” Aaron shook his head, his shoulders jumping with the laughter that rolled through him. “Come on, man, have a little fun. You’re single. It’s time to mingle, brother.”
“Why do I have to fuck some random chick in order to have fun?”
The childish humor fell from his face. He slapped his hand on my shoulder and stared at me with slightly intoxicated yet sincere eyes. “You don’t. But you don’t have to act like you have a ball and chain at home, either. Because you don’t. Whether you want to admit it or not, you are single. I’m just trying to loosen you up some.”
I tried to ignore his not-so-subtle reminder of Jen and smiled. “I am loose. I promise.”
He squeezed my shoulder and walked away, leaving me to pour my drink alone.
Megan was busy with Shirley when I returned. Rather than sit and watch them converse, I dug my phone out of my pocket to give me something to do so I didn’t look so pathetic, and while I had it open, I decided to text Tatum.
Me: Hope you’re having fun going through my medicine cabinet and sniffing my boxers.
I hadn’t expected a response, yet seeing the bubbles pop up as she typed something back put a smile on my face.
Tatum: I finished with that hours ago. I’ve moved on to Photoshopping us in various stages of our relationship. Working on the wedding pics now. I should have them all framed and hung by time you get home.
Me: You might want to have Kelsey do that for you. I have standards for my decor, you know. Can’t have people see my walls covered in frames that don’t match.
I couldn’t help myself, nor could I hide the smile that left my cheeks aching.
Tatum: You’re so right. Crooked pictures are so last season.
Me: Got any of our kids?
I didn’t think about that one until after I sent it, but before I could retract it, I got back a smiley face. And to my surprise, a bubble indicating a response.
Tatum: I tried a few of those sites that generate a picture of a baby by mixing two faces together, but they were all hideous. I hate to say it, but I can’t have your babies. I can’t risk having an ugly kid.
Tatum: Although, Ashton Kutcher and I are totally gonna procreate.
I couldn’t stop the laughter that tore through me.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard, but before I could type out my retort, Megan grabbed my attention by tugging on my arm. My cell dropped into my lap, and a new shot glass filled my hand. Her eyes sparkled with excitement when she said, “I have no idea what any of these are, so it’ll be a surprise every time.”
The idea of puking all night did not appeal to me, and I was old enough to understand what would happen if I mixed different liquors. “Yeah . . . I think I’m going to pass on this one. I have to be able to function tomorrow.”
“Oh, come on.” She pouted, as if that would somehow have an effect on me. Now, if she’d shown real tears, that might’ve worked in her favor, but poking out her bottom lip didn’t faze me one bit. “Please? It’s my birthday, and all my friends ditched me.”
“They did? Are you sure it wasn’t the other way around? From what I hear, my buddy invited you up, and you came alone.”
“Yeah, because they already left.”
Okay, so that tugged on my heartstrings a little. “Why’d they leave?”
“Take this shot with me, and I’ll tell you.”
Fucking curiosity. Got me almost every time.
I agreed, but only to this one. After
that, she’d have to find someone else to help her finish these tiny concoctions. I tipped my head back, let the liquid run down my throat, and slammed the glass on the tray at the same time she did.
“So . . . why’d your friends leave you on your birthday?” The similarity alone made me think of Tatum and what her ex had done to her on her own birthday. And that filled my mind with thoughts of what she was doing right now, and if she was doing it in my bed.
“That’s how I ended up running into your friend.”
“Wait . . . what?” There was no way I’d taken a shot in exchange for an answer I didn’t hear because I was too busy thinking of Tatum. I used to be way smoother than this. “Repeat that, because I didn’t understand what you said.”
She eyed me suspiciously, and the instant the corner of her mouth tipped in a knowing smirk, I could predict what would come next. “That’ll cost ya,” she said with a new glass in her hand for me to take.
Why her friends had ditched her wasn’t important, yet that hadn’t stopped me from accepting the challenge. And before I knew it, I’d had too many. I’d lost count of how many drinks I’d made myself, let alone how many Aaron had poured for me. Add in the straight liquor this chick had made me choke down in some twisted game of twenty questions, and I’d far surpassed my limit.
At least I was enjoying myself.
I was only this intoxicated because . . . well, I didn’t really have a reason, other than it was the only way to get answers I could’ve gone my entire life without knowing. And as it turned out, I’d taken shots for nothing. One in particular had been to get her to tell me her name. Sure, she’d told me what it was, yet I’d forgotten two seconds later, only realizing it when I’d called her Megan Fox to her face. Shortly after that, she’d been dubbed Foxy Lady. Luckily, she’d seemed flattered by that. And at some point, it’d been shortened to just Foxy.
I was in the middle of talking about Tatum when my phone vibrated against my ass. Had I been able to see straight, I would’ve recognized the number across the top of the screen and ignored it. Instead, I proceeded to tell the bad influence in the short skirt next to me that it was Tatum, and she needed to be quiet so I could hear her.
The (Half) Truth Page 17