First Love (Winning at Love Book 2)

by Gillian Jones

  We laugh as we head to the front of the shop. I make quick work of flipping the sign back to open and unlocking the door before shifting my attention back to Kam. I don’t want her to go, but I have a shit ton of clients to prep for.

  “Maybe,” I tease, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Call me later, we can talk then?” she asks.

  “I’ll try. I don’t want to call if it’s too late. Don’t want to wake you on a school night.”

  She looks disappointed and I feel like an asshole after what she just let me do to her. “How about I try to call as soon as I can?” I say. I start to lean in for a kiss and to apologize when the bell above the door chimes, and one of my regulars, Cason, walks in.

  “Hey, Case.” I step away from Kami to shake his hand.

  “Heya, Keat. Long time. I saw the article in INKED, nice work. You looked like a legit businessman, and not the asshole I know you are,” he quips, laughing.

  “I see you’re as charming as always.”

  “Even more so.” His eyes shift to Kam, where she’s silently smiling at our exchange.

  “This your girl?” he winks, looking between us.

  “Nah, this is Kam. My good friend, she’s my sister Eastlyn’s best friend.”

  “Hey, Case. Nice to meet you,” she waves. Her demeanour has shifted, and I notice her voice is a little off. But when I look her over, she looks good—amazing, actually. Must be me.

  “What brings you in?”

  “Thought up this really awesome idea for a tatt. Hopin’ you can fit me in as soon as possible, I gotta have it ASAP,” Cason says, hopeful.

  “And what’s in it for me?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, joking around.

  “Got an extra ticket to see the Raptors next week.”

  “Deal,” I say without hesitation. “How’s tomorrow at four?”

  “Fantastic news. I knew you’d do me a solid, man. Thanks.”

  “I thought you were booked solid?” Kami’s less-than-thrilled voice cuts though the conversation.

  “Yeah, but Kam, it’s the Raptors! I can move some stuff around, it’s easy.” I say, because, honestly, I could use a night out, and basketball is always a great time with Cason and his buddies.

  Kam looks taken aback when she quietly repeats, “Easy.” Her face falls, and her gaze shifts from Cason to me as if something has clicked. Her shoulders suddenly seem not so square, as if she’s upset. Never have I seen Kami look so defeated.

  “How silly of me. Right, the Raptors. Kind of how I feel about Rocky Horror.”

  Cason laughs, making some joke about Tim Curry’s character being his favourite.

  “Exactly like that,” I smile, happy she can relate.

  “I’d better get going, Keaton. You clearly have lots of plans to make. Far be it from me to hold you up,” Kam says, her voice sweet, but I can detect an edge or something.

  Shifting past me and Cason, she heads towards the door. I try to catch her. “Kam?”

  “I’m late to meet my sister. We can talk when you find time. I really need to go, Keaton.”

  With that she shoves her way out the door without a backwards glance.

  “What was that all about?” Cason asks, once the door thuds closed.

  “Not sure.” I run my hand along my face.

  But somehow I think I must have fucked up. Big time.

  37

  My One Phone Call

  Kami

  Keaton: Kam, please talk to me. Not sure what happened. Did I do something wrong?

  “God, my brother is oblivious sometimes. Seriously,” Eastlyn says, tossing my phone aside after reading Keaton’s latest text out loud.

  “How has he not clued in?” Jane pipes in as she sets a freshly-made Rich Hits Wall Street in front of me. It’s a lovely blend of gin, elderflower liqueur, ginger ale, lemon, and some sweet syrup, making it the perfect drink for my sour mood.

  “No clue. He should be smarter than this,” Eastlyn adds, from where she’s sitting across from me at my kitchen table. We’ve all been here since I left Inkredible after being fingerfucked within an inch of my life, and after coming face to face about where I stand with the guy I’ve loved for over half my life. Not only did he friend-zone me hard, he lied about having no time. It’s not that he doesn’t have time, he just doesn’t have time for me. On his list of priorities—I’m apparently at the bottom, and worst of all, I’m still only a friend.

  It’s been an awesome day. Luckily, misery loves company, and Jane and Eastlyn are having their own man troubles, so we’re commiserating. Well, maybe not Jane as much as Eastlyn and I. I’d freaked out over a hickey I’d spotted on my sister’s neck (I was ready to stage an intervention if she’d gone all Grey’s Anatomy with some doctor over at the hospital like some of her other nurse friends), but she’d shared the good news that she and Jeremy were working things out and wanted to move in together, and that the hickey was a parting gift from him at the end of their conversation.

  “Men suck, plain and simple.” I raise my glass, sloshing some onto the tabletop.

  “He’s left over 47 text messages, and there are 17 missed calls, some with voicemails. Are you sure you don’t want to respond?” Jane asks, dropping a kiss on the top of my head and giving me a gentle squeeze, taking her seat after refilling our drinks.

  “Nope. Pretty sure my text was clear.” I shrug, grab my phone, and stare at the only text I’d sent him.

  Me: If you ever want me to talk to you again, do not try and find me or show up at my house.

  Dramatic, sure.

  A lie? Probably.

  But I was desperate, and I knew if anything would work to keep him at bay, it was that.

  It was shitty. His response had been heartbreaking and humorous. Just so Keaton.

  Keaton: I’d be lost in this world without talking to you. I won’t lose that. I’ll turn my car back around. BUT you didn’t say I couldn’t call or text. Game on.

  I was panicked. I knew Keaton would eventually show up demanding we talk.

  And I’m not nearly ready to confront him, not tonight. Honestly, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to show my face. I acted like a floozy earlier, demanding that he touch me, bring me to orgasm, almost begging him to fuck me right there in his tattooing chair, relieved he’d needed me as much as I’d needed him.

  “I’m such an idiot. Did I really expect him to…what? Introduce me right away as his girlfriend? We haven’t even had a chance to figure this out. But to say it like that? So casually, as if he didn’t even stop to consider how I’d feel? He hurt my feelings, and I’m pissed at him for being willing to make time for some random client I’ve never heard him mention, ever, but not me.” I take the Kleenex from Eastlyn’s outstretched hand, realizing for the first time that I’m crying.

  “I could kill him.” Eastlyn says.

  I turn to Eastlyn, who’s almost as upset as me. “I’m so sorry I messed things up with your brother. I thought he saw me as something more than just his sister’s friend, but I can’t let him treat me like that. Please, I hope you aren’t mad at me. It’s the last thing I wanted to happen.”

  “Aww, Kamalot,” Eastlyn says, slipping from her chair. She kneels down beside me. Her arms wrap around me and hold me tight. “I could never be mad at you for something you can’t control. Listen to me,” she says, and I turn in my chair so I can face her. “Whether you and my brother work out or not, you will always, always be my person, my one phone call, and the Thelma to my Louise. Don’t you ever, ever, ever think something as stupid as my brother and you not working out could shake or change that. Got it?”

  “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I do.”

  We both laugh.

  “Now, what we need, girls, is more drinks, a plan, and a pizza,” Eastlyn says, pulling me out of my chair and enveloping me again in her warm arms.

  “Nah, what we really need…” Jane says, coming around the table to wrap us both in her loving embrace, “…is, more dri
nks, pizza, and some good ol’ Cockboom! It’s been way too long since I’ve ridden the coaster, both arms up in the air.”

  “Do I even want to know?” Eastlyn asks, while all I can do is laugh so hard my side starts to hurt.

  We might have spent the rest of our night drinking, eating pizza, taking turns talking about the dumb-ass men in our lives, and laughing at the drunken pearls of wisdom we were dropping, but no matter how much I pretended he wasn’t, Keaton never strayed too far from my mind, because Keaton Hatfield is ingrained in my heart.

  Today was a reminder that it might finally be time that I really do try to find some ways to work on wiping those feelings clean.

  First up: speed dating.

  38

  Everybody’s Looking for Lurrrve

  Kami

  “Welcome to Meetups Speed Dating!” the enthusiastic voice echoes over the bar’s audio system. I feel my stomach drop as my eyes scan the MC, who’s dressed as if he belonged in some ’70s disco movie.

  “Maybe this was a bad idea?” I worry. Eastlyn and I have been standing at one of Sip Club’s high-top tables, drawing attention from a few male patrons as they circle like sharks. Thankfully, no one’s had the nerve to approach us, I think, even though that’s the entire point of us being here.

  “Oh no you don’t. Don’t start! We’re in this together. It was, after all, your idea to try to have some fun.”

  “Fun with a side order of forgetting,” I joke, making Eastlyn smile with understanding.

  “I know, babe, this is good. For both of us,” she tacks on. McCoy has been ruthless to her lately; hot one minute, then cold the next, and my poor BFF’s emotions are all over the map. We’re two peas in a pod, really.

  As for me and Keaton? I’ve taken the mature route. I’ve not only been avoiding him, I’ve completely ignored him. I can’t be the friend he needs until I get my feelings in check, so until I do, this is my tactic.

  The announcer’s voice breaks me from my own thoughts. “Before we begin, I want to thank Sip Club for hosting us tonight. Now…let’s meet up!”

  “Is it bad that I’m a titch excited right now?” Eastlyn asks. We grab our stuff off the stools beside us.

  “Can all the ladies please follow Bruce into the other room? He’ll explain the name of the game. Guys, register over here with Kelly, where she’ll also explain how things work. We’re almost ready to find y’all some lurrrve,” ’70s-guy says, making us giggle as we file into our assigned room.

  “I’m nervous all of a sudden. I feel like I’m being watched.” I whisper, looking over my shoulder.

  “Babe, that’s because you are. There have been a lot of guys checking your fine ass out.”

  “You’re such a pest.” I nudge her forward, further inside the room with the other women, leading us down toward the end of the line of tables.

  “All right ladies, please take a seat at one of the numbered tables, settle in, and let me explain how this will work. I’ll share some tips on how to find the best match, and go over a few safety tips,” Bruce says to the room of twelve women, all looking for “lurrrve”.

  “May the Schwartz Be With You,” Eastlyn leans over to whisper from her spot at the table next to mine, causing me to laugh a little bit too loudly at the Spaceballs quote.

  “Sorry…nerves.” I shrug.

  I wave to the room full of eager beavers, while giving East some stink eye.

  *

  Each date is five minutes.

  Five minutes of my life I will never get back.

  Do you know what you can learn about a person in five minutes?

  Stupid, useless, vapid things, that’s what.

  If it’s sex—and not companionship—you’re looking for, then MeetUps Speed Dating is the place to be.

  My first date was Colin, a dentist who’d like to “drill my hole” as he so eloquently stated. I thanked him, then admitted to having a long-standing fear of power tools. He didn’t seem to find me funny, a fact that became glaringly obvious when he stood so fast at the first call of “Time!” that he knocked his chair over.

  Dates Two and Three, Steve the creepy private detective, and Marc the mechanic, (who offered me a free lube job) I might add, were just as bad.

  Date Four: Cameron, a dog groomer, who apologized with an, “It’s an occupational hazard. It happens more than I’d like to admit,” when he started petting my arm from across the small bistro table.

  It had made me laugh when I saw him doing the same thing to Eastlyn, but didn’t seem half as funny when it happened to me.

  “I hate you for this,” Eastlyn kept murmuring out of the side of her mouth with each call of “Time!”

  Date Five: Tyler was sweet. A professional poker player who was looking for Lady Luck. “I just want my queen,” he’d said, and it made me melt a little. Too bad he was, like, eighteen.

  Date Six: Sam, the banker, who smelled of garlic and couldn’t stop staring at my boobs. He literally sat across from me licking his chops he was so enamoured with my girls, and had to be asked by Bruce to move along after he remained seated following the switch signal.

  “That guy was a major creep. I should have opted out.” I shiver for effect.

  “I’m ready to opt out of this whole thing. Jesus, some of these guys are out there…” she says from the side of her mouth as we move into the next date.

  “Only six more.” I wink, and she shakes her head as our next dates take their seats.

  “You better be taking me out for drinks after this. That’s still a long time away.”

  “Can do. Now shut up and find ‘lurrrve’,” I almost snort.

  Date Seven: Harvey, the afterlife-believing taxidermist from Orangeville.

  “Time.”

  Date Eight: Ray, the magician, with a penchant for BDSM.

  “Time.”

  Date Nine: Stan, the comic book store owner, who seemed great until he asked how I felt about live action role-play.

  Time!

  I go stalk-still when Keaton and McCoy suddenly appear and plop themselves down into the two now-empty chairs across from me and Eastlyn, and a gasp escapes my mouth. Holy shit. They look pissed.

  “Three more dates, lovers. Make ’em count.”

  It feels like I’m under water, all I can hear for a moment is whooshing and the sound of my own heartbeat.

  “Excuse me, you’re supposed to be having this date with me, you know…” I hear a bitchy tone. A handsome hipster wearing black glasses, and sporting a fantastically-grown handlebar moustache stands near my table and stares at me, looking wounded.

  “Scram, before someone gets hurt,” I hear Keaton’s deep, rumbling voice warn the man whom I assume I was supposed to speed date next.

  “It’s not your turn, Keaton,” I manage to squeak.

  “It sure the fuck is.”

  “You need to leave.”

  “If I leave, Kamilla, your fine ass will be coming with me.”

  “The hell it will,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and meeting his stone-cold gaze for the first time since he sat down.

  “Is there a problem here?” ’Stache asks.

  Keaton and I ignore him. “Try me, Kami.” He leans in, his jaw tight, eyes honing in on me like lasers. “You have no idea.”

  “Enlighten me, then,” I snap, making him smirk.

  “Trust me, I want you to test me more than anything. I’d like nothing better than to toss your gorgeous ass over my shoulder and march you the fuck outta here. Push me, Hellcat, I dare you.”

  “Miss? Everything okay? Should I go get Bruce or Kelly, or something?” ’Stache asks, intruding on our conversation again and starting to look nervous.

  “I’m fine,” I hiss. And I am. “Please go away now.” Keaton and I both glare at him, and he drifts away to the men’s room, looking disappointed—and perhaps a bit relieved to be clear of our drama.

  “Coy?” I hear Eastlyn’s confused voice beside me. It sounds like she’s just swallowe
d a frog. They’re talking, it’s heated. This is so bad.

  “Push me, Hellcat, I dare you,” Keaton had said. My heart starts to beat like a drum in my chest, and my mouth feels like I’ve swallowed a million cotton balls. I’m too frazzled to think of how to respond to that. But Eastlyn and McCoy soon distract me, giving me time to think while leaving Keaton and I locked in our staring contest.

  “Kami and I came for a night out,” East starts, “We could both use a good fu—”

  “Stop.” McCoy’s voice is firm.

  I tune them out.

  “You don’t belong here, Keaton. Go,” I grit.

  “You don’t belong here,” he challenges, and it pisses me off. Again, we’re silent, my hazel eyes trapped in the intense hold of his green ones, eyes I could get lost in under different circumstances. I notice his chest is heaving, his breath hitching, mirroring my own, and I feel a sense of sick satisfaction that he’s just as effected as I am.

  “Why are you here?” I ask, my tone cold and distant.

  Suddenly his chair scrapes across the parquet flooring, and he’s sliding it in beside mine, his warm breath ghosting the outer shell of my ear, the deep timbre of his voice causing goosebumps to skate over my skin. “Kamilla.” He pauses. “You. Are. Fucking. High. If for one second you think I’d let you leave with any of these losers here tonight.” I move to pull away, but he’s not done. His hand finds my leg under the tablecloth, and he lifts it, laying it on top of his, effectively pulling me closer. He runs his hand gently up the innermost part of my thigh, and I’m lost to him. I’d been doing my best to resist him, to be strong, but his closeness and touch have my heart racing a mile a minute, and my body about to cave.

  “Keat.” It’s a whimper.

  He moves in close, and runs his mouth down my cheek to my neck. “No one gets to finish what I started the other day. Nobody gets what we both know is mine, but me. Clear?” he practically growls in my ear, and his spell is instantly broken.

  He’s crossed a line, and I need to get the hell away from him.

  I shift my leg off his, pissed at my body for the betrayal. She’s always so easily swayed by him. Scooting my chair back, I stand abruptly, turn, and rise to my full height, seething when I look down at him in his chair. The bastard smirks, remaining silent, waiting me out. As if we’re connected by live wire, my body begins to tremble as I step closer to his, only this time I’m fuelled by anger, not lust, and I’m determined to gain the upper hand—praying I don’t lose my bravado.