“I don’t know how to do that,” I admit.
“You start with an apology.”
“Sorry, man,” I say instantly.
“Not to me, asshole. To Riley!” He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘dumb fuck’. “And she needs to apologize to you, and then you have a conversation.”
He throws his voice deep. “What do you think about this opportunity?” And then higher, “I don’t like it because of this, this, and this.”
Lower again, he finishes, “Okay, I can understand that. Consider this, that, and the other.”
In his own voice, he says, “People who love each other fight. They argue. But they talk through stuff and make decisions together.”
His advice settles over me, sounding right. “How’d you get to be so smart about relationships when you’ve never been in a serious one?” I tease, finally feeling like there might be something to laugh about in all of this.
“My parents are pretty good examples, and I’m smarter than you give me credit for. I know shit,” he brags.
“I never doubted that,” I tell him earnestly, “but you might’ve just proven yourself a bit smarter than I thought.” I hold up my thumb and finger a skinny inch apart. “Does that make me the pretty one now?” I joke.
“Definitely not,” River deadpans. “Look at this.” He draws his hands down his body over his workout clothes. “And look at you.” He scans me from head to toe. I look rough, I know I do. Hair a mess from my fingers, eyes red from tears, and the clothes I wore on my walk with Riley wrinkled worse than if they’d been in the bottom of the laundry hamper.
“All right, so I’m still the smart one. Or at least I will be after I fix this.”
“You’d better,” he tells me sharply, pointing a finger at me.
Breaking the threatening pose, he heads to the kitchen, helping himself to a beer from the fridge. “Though I’m glad I didn’t have to beat the shit out of you tonight. Before Riley called, I’d just hit a new PR on overhead press. My arms are fucking toast.”
“Take that with you. I’m heading back over to Riley’s,” I tell him.
He takes a long drag of the bottle he’s already opened. “Nope. You need to give her a minute to calm down and think. For being all sunshine and shit, she goes nuclear when she detonates. Trust me, a long fuse means a bigger explosion,” he explains. “Me? I’m like little firecrackers going off all the time to keep an even keel.”
“Then at least get me one of those too,” I say, giving in.
I can’t run to Riley now, as much as I want to. But I’m going to fix this. Soon.
But for now, we sit down on the couch like two long-time friends to watch a game. It’s a repeat, but knowing our team wins is reassuring.
Chapter 25
Riley
“Let’s go, Little Miss Sunshine,” Arielle says wryly.
Eli swats at her arm and hisses, “Too soon. Look at her.”
I feel two pairs of eyes on me. They’re concerned but also judging me and the nest I’ve created on my couch. I’ve been here since Noah left.
I tried, I really did. But standing on the sidewalk, I’d felt exposed and broken, and not being able to rally, I’d run for home with Raffy at my side thinking it was some sort of game. I hadn’t made it far, falling to the couch and curling up to call River. He’d cut me off, nearly hanging up on me. I know he’s angry, but I can’t worry about that right now. So I’d called out an SOS to Arielle. And though the white couch is fresh and the yellow blanket is sunny, I am neither of those things.
“Think we can get her into a different outfit? Jeans and a T-shirt aren’t exactly the standard.”
I glare at Arielle. “I’m not changing clothes. I’m not going.”
“Like hell you’re not. Arielle put out the Bat signal and got everyone rallied on short notice. You always take care of us. It’s our turn to take care of you. What do you need?” Eli prompts.
“Chocolate cake, vodka, and a bath,” I answer drolly. I don’t think he expected me to have an answer, much less that one.
Arielle’s eyes narrow. I’ve seen this face before. It’s the one she uses on non-compliant patients when she’s about to steamroll over them and get her way. “I can make all three of those happen, but first, you’re coming out with us. You need it.”
Eli moves to stand at Arielle’s shoulder, presenting a united front. He talks to Arielle as if I’m not sitting right here in front of them. “Flip flops would be easiest.”
“On it,” Arielle answers, and then she disappears down the hall. A moment later, she comes back with the pair of flip flops I wear when I go to get pedicures.
“Ready?” Eli asks . . . Arielle again, not me. She nods, and I shake my head, even though this conversation apparently doesn’t involve me.
Eli charges me, dropping his shoulder to my middle and scooping me up from the couch to toss me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I guess his workouts are helping after all because he heads for the door with ease.
“No! Eli! Put me down!” I yell, kicking my bare feet.
Arielle uses my own flip-flop to spank my ass. “Hush. You’ll thank us later. And everyone’s already waiting, so we don’t have time to prod your whiny ass into action.”
“Waiting where? I don’t want to go to McGillicutty’s,” I argue. Truthfully, I don’t want to go anywhere, except maybe to bed to sleep off this headache I have from crying.
Eli carries me to the curb and tosses me in the passenger seat of his car unceremoniously. “Don’t tell her. It’ll be like a fun surprise,” he conspires with Arielle as he buckles my seatbelt.
He closes the door on me, both him and Arielle going around to the driver’s side. He opens the back door for Arielle like a gentleman, which pisses me off for no good reason. And then Eli gets in and starts the car.
“I kinda hate you right now. You know that, right?” I ask him snottily. Like actual snot, not like I’m being bitchy. I do wonder if that might have a better effect because Eli is immune to my grossness.
“It’s a thin line between love and hate,” he tells me, though he glances in the rearview mirror. Ugh, I wish they’d get things straightened out between them. They deserve to be happy, even if I never get the chance to be.
Eli drives to the place it all began . . . Briar Rose Mall. But he parks at the line-up of stores that surround the mall’s parking lot. We’ve been here before too. The window fronts and door are black-out tinted, and there’s a large neon sign proclaiming Karaoke. When we don’t do Irish pubs and hoops, we’ve been known to drink too much and sing badly here.
“No. Absolutely not,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
Arielle leans forward and pushes the button to release my seatbelt, telling Eli, “Just grab her again.”
My jaw drops in shock. It drops even further when Eli scoops me out of the passenger seat, back over his shoulder, and starts walking toward the door.
“Everything okay?” the lady doing check-ins at the front desk asks as we come in.
“No. They kidnapped me,” I intone flatly from my upside-down vantage point.
“Bad fight with the boyfriend,” Arielle says as if that explains everything.
“Ooh, sing some mad chick songs then. Get that fire out of your belly. You look like an Ariana Grande sort. You got one less problem without him,” the front desk lady sings the last part in perfect pitch.
“What if I’m the problem?” I ask as Eli carries me past her.
He must see Simon, Becky, and Loretta because he seems to know where he’s going. I’m not sure because I’m still upside down and the neon lights are messing with my vision. I just know I’m plopped into a booth in a small private room.
“Hey, baby,” Loretta says, scooting in next to me on one side. Arielle and Eli file in after her on my left. Becky and Simon slide in on my right. I’m trapped, which I’m guessing was their intention. “How’re you doing?”
I l
ook at their eyes, full of worry and concern for me. I try to force my lips to lift into something resembling a smile. “I’ll be okay. Thanks for this,” I mutter, waving my hand around, vaguely gesturing to them and the karaoke club.
That’s all the sunshine I have right now, every last drop from the bottom of my well, and I wasted it on niceties.
Becky wraps her arm around my shoulder to give me a hug. “Don’t even start with that shit, Riley. You’ve been here for us through everything. From taking me to prenatal appointments to that time you got Arielle out of jail without her family learning about it. It’s our turn to take care of you now.”
“Ixnay on the ailjay!” Arielle mock complains. “Jeez, don’t you know there are microphones all over this place?”
Everyone laughs except for me. It’s not like Arielle’s a big-time fugitive or something. Just one night when a dumbass tried to get a little too fresh with the wrong girl, Arielle wasn’t going to put up with it and stepped in. There weren’t even charges pressed, but it’s definitely Arielle’s favorite bucket list check when we play ‘Never Have I Ever’ because she’s the only one of us to spend the night in jail.
“Becky’s right,” Loretta says. “You’ve been there for all of us one time or another. Now we get to be here for you. First thing you need is a drink. Second, a song.”
Loretta pushes a button on the tablet in the middle of the table to call a waitress, and she arrives quickly, introducing herself as Maylee before taking our drink orders.
In minutes, I have a large frozen cocktail in front of me. I have no idea what’s in it, but Maylee took one look at me, made sure I had a designated driver, and said she knew just the thing. It tastes like pineapple, but I suspect that’s hiding a heavy-handed dose of alcohol.
I take another sip, wishing it’d kick in already. I could use a little numbness, a little forgetting.
I keep seeing Noah’s face—the hurt, the confusion, and the anger. I take another sip of my drink.
“Who’s up first?” Arielle asks before pulling a die out of her purse. We had it custom made when the Crew was eight people and one of the members, Nikki, worked at the comic book and gaming shop. The special eight-sided die has a set of initials engraved on each side, and as the membership’s changed and dwindled, we’ve blacked out two of the spots.
Arielle tosses the die onto the table, and everyone watches as it tumbles, stopping on ET . . . Eli Taylor.
“Well, now, I guess I’m going to have to flex a little for y’all,” Eli says, picking up one of the microphones. He checks the computer quickly, and in moments, one of his standards starts playing.
It’s Always A Good Time is one of Eli’s best songs, mainly because he’s able to sing both parts with an almost eerie ability to replicate Carly Rae Jepsen’s voice. His Owl City needs work, but that’s because he can’t seem to keep the twang out of his voice when he’s singing the male part.
Normally, he’d get everyone bouncing and happy, singing along to the whoa-oh-oh parts with him, but tonight, I’m not feeling it, and everyone’s watching me to make sure I’m not going to burst into tears again.
“Good try, Eli, but I think we need something with a little more edge to it,” Arielle says as she plucks the microphone from his hand, skipping the die rolling. “My turn.”
Seconds later, Arielle’s transformed herself into full-on angry Pink as she sings U + Ur Hand. The angry girl anthem has Loretta and Becky singing along and Eli making obscene hand gestures. Loretta bumps into me, timing the bumps with the music so that it’s almost forcing me to dance along. It’s movement, at least, and I try to get into it. Arielle leans over the table, holding the microphone out to me. Automatically, I sing into it, “It’s just you and your hand tonight . . .” Becky and Loretta lean in, providing back-up vocals to strengthen my weak attempt. But it feels good.
The song ends, and Eli holds up his hand, joking, “Works for me every time. Efficient, feels good, and never a doubt of a happy ending.”
Arielle, who’s sat back down beside him, elbows Eli in the ribs. “Don’t talk about happy endings.” Her eyes tick to me, and I know she’s not talking about Eli coming when he jacks off.
Becky claps loudly, drawing the attention her way. “Okay, so Noah sucks. What are we going to do to him?”
“I say we pay him a visit with some lawn clippers,” Loretta muses. “Give his bush a real close trim!” She mimes scissors opening and closing with one hand and moving Noah’s dick around with the other, then her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open in a look that says, ‘Oops, did I do that?’ She throws the imaginary chopped off penis over her shoulder and dusts her hands off with an evil smile.
Loretta is only kidding, but all it does is remind me of sex with Noah. The best sex I’ve ever had.
“Can’t do that,” Arielle says, holding up a hand as she picks up her beer with her other hand. “He might be an asshole, but he is my brother. Sort of need his DNA to keep the family tree going or I’ll have to answer to my mom about grandkids someday.”
“Ah, good point.” Loretta sounds disappointed and tries again. “Well, what about his car? We could let the air out of a couple of his tires. What do you say, Arielle? We could go easy on him and deflate them or balls to the wall and slash ’em.”
“Oh, you can slash those tires all you want,” Arielle says easily. “He can afford some new Goodyears.”
“Only three,” Becky pipes up, holding up three fingers. “If you do all four, insurance will cover them. Three, and it’s all on him.”
“Uhm, ladies?” Simon says uneasily. He’s looking at his wife with suspicion. “I don’t want to know why you know that, so how about we just sing some more?”
“Veto,” Arielle sings.
“No fun,” Loretta argues.
Becky laughs and gives her husband a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, honey, we’re just helping Riley feel angry. Just a bit of ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ fantasizing. We’re not actually going to start playing choppy-choppy anytime soon.”
“As long as you boys behave,” Arielle warns them, and Eli gulps.
But then Arielle and Eli share a secret smile.
It should make me smile, seeing their playful banter, but I can’t feel much more than a bland emptiness as Loretta, Becky, and Arielle pass the microphone around, taking turns and singing.
When it’s my turn, I don’t have a song. Or the strength to sing, especially after hitting the bottom of the glass on the Break-Up Special, as Maylee told us my drink is called. “Sorry, guys, uh, maybe Eli can have another turn?” I suggest.
“You sure?” Loretta asks. “I mean, you’d feel a hell of a lot better after a round of Savage. They’ve got the edited version in here.” She starts flipping through songs on the computer screen, trying to find something I’ll sing.
I manage a smile, shaking my head. “Not this time. Maybe later?”
I’ve basically traded my couch for the booth seat and the distraction of my television for my friends’ singing. But it does feel better to be surrounded by them. As long as I don’t have to actually participate.
Loretta presses her lips together but hands the microphone to Eli. He sings, and then Simon takes a turn, but once everyone but me has had their shot at the mic, we sit and sip on our drinks, eating the plates of appetizers Maylee brought us.
“Are you drunk enough to tell us what happened yet?” Loretta asks.
I swallow the fried mushroom cap I just popped in my mouth. I’ve been hoovering them down.
Loretta grunts. “Ow!” She rubs her leg beneath the table, and my guess is that someone kicked her to tell her to be quiet.
But this is what they’re here for. Other than to distract me, they want to help. And these are the people I trust. We’ve been through so much together.
So, as hard as it is, I tell them all about the crazy conversation with Noah and how it turned into a fight, each of them asking questions and making points as I go.
B
y the end, the alcohol in my second drink has fully kicked in and I’m spilling my guts in a major case of verbal diarrhea. “I feel so . . . empty. I want to go to his place and tell him I’m sorry. I want him to hold me, make me his again. Fill my heart back up with him.”
Eli mutters under his breath, “I don’t think that’s what he’s supposed to fill. Maybe you’re doing it wrong?”
Arielle puts her hand over his mouth and glares at him.
“I love him, guys. What do I do?” Tears spring to my eyes again, even though I thought I’d cried them all out.
Becky offers me a clean napkin. “Of course you love him. It wouldn’t hurt so much if you didn’t.” I swipe at my eyes and look at her. Her eyes are kind, her words gentle as she asks me, “Did you think this was going to be easy?”
I shake my head. “No. I know relationships take work, but—”
“No but,” Simon says, interrupting me. “That’s the complete sentence. Relationships take work.” He takes Becky’s hand, and they meet eyes, saying so much with a single look.
Becky smiles sweetly at her husband and then turns back to me, her gaze hardening. I swear she’s already got a Mom Look down pat and she’s using it on me like I’m a disobedient child acting up in the middle of the Target produce section. “The truth is . . . you and Noah just met, at least for real. And it’s only been a short time. You’re still learning about each other, for fuck’s sake—who you are and who he is. Maybe he overstepped, and maybe you overreacted? But this is either a chance to decide this isn’t worth it, in which case, carry on with your pity party, or an opportunity to figure out how to communicate with each other, in which case, you need to get off your butt and apologize.”
I blink, caught completely off guard by Becky’s assessment of the situation. She sounds so rational, so logical. Is she right? Did I overreact to what Noah said? Am I still overreacting?
The Blind Date Page 30