Last Call (Bad Habits Book 3)

by Staci Hart

  The chill crept into my heart.

  The second he was gone, our friends looked at me like my grandma had died. I rolled my eyes, playing it off like I didn’t feel like I’d been shot.

  “Cut it out, guys.”

  Everyone tentatively looked away, and Cooper took the lead, sparking a new conversation with the group. Lily leaned on the bar with her brow furrowed.

  “You okay?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m fine.”

  Her eyes were on her drink, but her brows were up. “You can’t lie to me, Rose Fisher.”

  I took a breath, dropping my chin as my eyes narrowed and emotion climbed up my throat. “What do you want from me, Lil? That fucking sucked. That was terrible, and I want to crawl under this bar and drink a bottle of whiskey alone.” My voice trembled. “There. Do you feel better? Was that honest enough for you?”

  She eyed me. “Karaoke.”

  I huffed and threw my hands up. “That’s not an answer, goddammit.”

  Lily shrugged. “Of course it is. You want world peace? Get the whole world together to karaoke The Humpty Dance.” She turned around on her stool to face Ellie and Maggie. “Karaoke is happening. You in?”

  Cooper opened his mouth to speak, but Lily waved her finger at him.

  “Nope. Girls only. Whaddaya say, ladies? I think a little karaoke therapy in the form of “When Doves Cry” is just what the doctor ordered for Rosie here.”

  I rolled my eyes again, swallowing my tears, joking past the pain. “Please. Prince is way out of my range.”

  The girls nodded and laughed, and Lily turned to me, looking smug. “See? It’s happening.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m going to be here until like three in the morning.”

  Lily flagged Shelby. “Shelbs — can we steal mopey Rosie tonight before closing? We need to get her liquored up and singing eighties songs, stat.”

  “Yeah, you do.” She smiled. “As soon as this rush dies, get out of here.”

  I tried not to scowl at the adorable traitor, though I narrowed my eyes at Lily. “All right. You win.”

  She laughed, clearly gloating. “What’s new?”

  A few hours later, the four of us sat at a high bar table as a man in a cowboy hat with a thick grey mustache sang a Roy Orbison song, eyes closed and face full of conviction.

  “Karaoke rules.” I raised my glass and whooped along with the rest of the crowd when he finished. Once I’d gotten a solid howl in, I slammed the end of my whiskey and picked up the fresh glass our waitress had just dropped by.

  We were all undeniably drunk. And I was numb enough that I could pretend like the last few days hadn’t happened. It all seemed far away, like a story of something that happened to a girl named Rose and not like it was my actual life.

  Five or six or eight whiskeys did that to me.

  The DJ came on the PA and called Ellie’s name. She hopped off the stool and bounded over to the stage, giggling into the microphone.

  “Hi, everybody.”

  The men whistled and cheered, and she grinned, smoothing her short dress over her hips just as “Like a Virgin” began, and we witnessed the most hilarious, Betty Boop rendition of the song I’ve ever heard in person. It was all wagging hips and puckered lips, her cleavage banging and red hair spilling over her shoulders. I swear to God, every man in the place had his eyes glued to her. I could practically hear a collective aooga when she ran her free hand down her body during the chorus.

  We could not stop laughing.

  “I’m gonna pee,” Lily squeaked.

  “Oh, my God, if you pee, I’m Instagramming it.” I breathed.

  Maggie couldn’t even make noise. She dropped her head to the table, shoulders shuddering with laughter.

  Ellie waggled her fingers at us and winked, giggling again at us in the microphone as she strutted across the stage, stroking the mic like a giant dick.

  By the time she finished, we’d caught our breaths enough to scream for her as she hung up the mic.

  “Marry me,” some random guy screamed from the crowd.

  Ellie smiled in his direction. “Show me your bank statements, and you’re in, honey.” She twiddled her fingers to whistles and screams as she stepped off the stage.

  We clapped and cheered as she approached.

  “That was amazing!” Maggie clapped.

  Ellie smiled and did a little curtsy before sitting down. “Thank you. That song always kills it in karaoke. The only thing better is when a hairy fat guy sings it.”

  I shook my head, laughing. “I swear you were a stripper in your past life.”

  “I can’t help it. I’ve got all this to work with.” She motioned to her curvy body. “Like, do you know how easy it is for me to twerk? Look, I’ll show you.” She started to get up, and we laughed even harder.

  I touched her arm. “Later. When you have pants on.”

  “Pfft.” She waved her hand, not the least bit ashamed, though she did sit back down.

  The next singer came on, and she was really good, belting out “Barracuda” like an absolute pro. Maggie and Ellie shimmied in their seats to the beat, singing along.

  Lily took a minute to leaned into me. “Feel any better?”

  I smirked and held up my drink. “Once again, you were right. Karaoke solves problems.”

  “Or at least puts a little distance between you and them for a while.”

  I booped her nose. “Aww, a Drily truth nugget.”

  She nodded seriously. “When Drunk Lily advances to Drily status, important conversations are had.”

  “It’s so true. Liquor affects your filter in the best way.”

  She chuckled and picked up her gin and tonic. “Drosie’s not so bad herself.”

  I shrugged, unimpressed. “Drosie’s workable. I will say though that I’m a little worried about keeping Drellie’s clothes on.”

  “Yeah, you may not be wrong there.” She raised her glass to toast mine. “Tricky, who?”

  “Tricky, who,” I chimed and clinked my glass to hers.

  “Any ideas on what to do next about all of this?”

  I sniffed and made a face. “Not really. I guess get through the weird and hope someday we can be around each other again. But right now, I don’t really want to see him.”

  She leaned in, eyes squinted like she couldn’t see me. “Is that true? Like, really real true?”

  “Yes and no, I guess. Part of me wants to see him and pretend everything is fine and then fuck his brains out. The other part never wants to lay eyes on him again and really, really wants to forget he ever existed.” I took another drink. “I guess it’s entirely possible that we won’t see each other much, now that he’s staying with Seth.” The pit in my stomach could have echoed, it was so black and dark.

  She sighed. “The whole thing just sucks. After everything, you guys staying together, almost getting back together. I mean, what a fucking tease.”

  “I know.”

  Lily nibbled on her lip. “I feel partially responsible.”

  “Why would you feel responsible? It had nothing to do with you.” I touched her arm.

  She gave me puppy dog eyes, and my lips pressed flat.

  “What did you do?”

  She grabbed the end of her hair and twisted it around her finger. “Well, it was West’s idea.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What was West’s idea?”

  “Well, I’m getting there, if you’d let me talk.”

  I sat back in my chair and picked up my drink, folding my arm under my elbow, feeling prickly. “Please. Be my guest.” I gestured with my glass.

  She took a drink and then she took a breath. “So, we obviously know how you two feel about each other, and the … challenges you face. You know, the whole not talking to each other situation.”

  “I’m aware.”

  She looked guilty as hell. “Well, we maybe, sort of, kind of, were faking the whole loud sex thing.”

  I blinked. “What?”
>
  “I mean, it wasn’t always fake,” she clarified. “Sometimes it was very real.” She snickered.

  I held up a hand and made a face. “Ew.”

  “Anyway, I suggested to Patrick that he should sleep in my bed, and then West and I set an alarm every night to wake up and bang on the walls. West even sabotaged all those fans and white noise machines he kept buying in the hopes he would start sleeping over there, and that you guys would … I don’t know. Be forced to make amends.”

  My mouth was hanging open. “Lilith Jane Thomas. I cannot fucking believe you.”

  “Well, it worked, didn’t it?” she said, defensively, in part in pleading.

  “You lied to me, you ass!”

  “Yeah, because I love you, which makes it okay,” she said sternly. “Anyway, you would have done the same thing if the tables were turned.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but closed it again. “Yeah, probably. But dammit, Lily. That was way out of bounds.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I really am. I love you, Rosie, and I want you to be happy and I thought I could help. My heart was in the right place.”

  I scowled. “Which is the only reason why I’m not taking out my earrings to deck you.”

  She smiled apologetically. “Will you promise to yell at West too?”

  “Oh, believe me, his will be worse.” I took a drink.

  “Well, that makes me feel better,” she said happily. “I still think you should go talk to Patrick about all of this.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” I leaned on the table and shook the ice in my drink that was already almost empty again.

  “Do you want to talk to him?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, Lily. I don’t know.”

  “Okay, okay. Let’s go simpler. Do you miss him?”

  I paused. “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s something.” Lily motioned for two more drinks as the waitress walked by.

  I pursed my lips, even though I couldn’t feel them. My thoughts stumbled and tripped over each other, just like Patrick and I always did. “Patrick is big and scary and messy. I don’t even know how to deal with all the things I feel for him — hurt, betrayal, lust, friendship, amusement, everything. He makes me feel everything, which is why I’d been avoiding it all this time. Starting over just seemed so much cleaner. Easier.”

  “Except it’s not.”

  “Because we’ve been around each other all this time. Maybe with him gone, I can get over him.”

  “Do you want to get over him?”

  I took a long drink and set down my glass. “Yes.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  I sighed. “No, I don’t. But I don’t know how to handle any of this.”

  She gave me a look my mother used to give me. “I think you need to start by apologizing.”

  “For what?” I shot.

  Lily rolled her eyes. “Gee, Rose. I don’t know. Rejecting him? Hurting him?”

  In a split second, my cheeks were on fire. “But he rejected me. He hurt me.”

  “You hurt each other. So start the conversation by apologizing for your part in that.”

  I didn’t answer for a second, surprised. She was right, and I hadn’t even considered the concept. This is why I suck at relationships. “And then what?”

  “Hope he apologizes back and that you can actually talk about all the things you’re afraid of without running for cover.” She took a drink.

  “And if not?”

  “Then, you know. You will have tried. Minimize your regret by doing whatever you can to mend things.”

  The waitress brought our drinks by, and I picked up the fresh one, promising myself idly that it would be my last. “Is it even smart to mend things? Maybe we’re just bad for each other.”

  “You’re not bad for each other. You just need to figure out how to communicate. It’s pretty simple. You just go …” She grabbed my chin and moved my bottom lip with her thumb. “Hey, Tricky, ya big stud. I’m sorry I was a smelly bag of fried dicks to you, but I can’t stand being apart, so how’s about we kiss and make up?” She made wet kissy noises, and a laugh burst out of me. She shrugged. “See? Easy.”

  I stared down into my amber whiskey. “So, just apologize and see what happens?”

  “You want him. He wants you. It’s really all you can do, Rosie. You just have to check your ego at the door and do a little groveling.”

  I made a face. “Why does that make me feel itchy?”

  “Probably because you avoid instead of grovel. But if you want to get the guy, you’ve got to suck it up, Buttercup. You let him walk away thinking you didn’t care about him when the exact opposite is true. You need to tell him that. You need to tell him the truth about how you feel about him. He’s been waiting to hear it this whole time, forever. And now’s your last chance to say it.”

  The thought of declaring my feelings sent a bolt of excitement and dread through me, followed by flashes of images — rejection, acceptance, kissing, crying. Both. “You’re right,” I said quietly.

  “I know. Drily is always right.” She reached for my hand and peered into my eyes. “It’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”

  “Well, it can’t really get any worse.”

  “Never say that, Rose,” she chided. “The night is still young, and Ellie just ordered another martini.”

  I looked over at Ellie, who was dancing like Molly Ringwald to Karma Chameleon as her jugs bounced around, dangerously close to popping out of her dress by sheer force.

  “Oh, God,” I said with a laugh.

  “See?” she said, enjoying being right again. “It could always be worse.”

  ONCE AND FOR ALL

  Patrick

  I DIPPED MY BRUSH IN the tar black paint before pressing the heavy bristles to the canvas, dragging it down. Pressure. A curve. A line. And then the paint was gone, without enough to do what I wanted, which was fill the canvas with darkness. I loaded the brush again.

  Nothing was simple except this.

  I’d drawn her face a thousand times. Some days, it was all I could see. But she and I weren’t meant to be. The distance between us wasn’t a straight line. It was a series of winding corridors, lit by harsh, naked bulbs. We didn’t know the way through, couldn’t find the exits.

  Lost. Rose and I were lost to each other.

  I painted the canvas black, all but where the light touched her profile, the negative space creating the features that made up the face that haunted me. But she was just a ghost, made of mist and smoke.

  I thought I heard a knock at the door and turned my head to the sound, wiping my hand on my jeans before reaching for my phone to turn down the music, listening. The knock came again, and I stood, making my way to the door to pull it open curiously.

  I never expected to find Rose on the other side of it.

  My breath stopped as my eyes roamed over her. She looked small, shoulders bent in a gentle slope, lip caught between her teeth. Her dark eyes seemed endless as they met mine.

  “Hey,” she said, the single word heavy with nerves and hope and dread.

  My heart hammered as I stood in the doorway, hand on the knob, staring at her. “Hey,” was all I could muster.

  “Can I come in?”

  I nodded and stepped out of the way, and she passed like she was afraid to touch anything, hands her in her pockets, eyes on the ground. I closed the door and turned to face her, not sure what I should say, not sure what she’d say.

  She looked up again, her face more determined than a moment before. “I … I owe you an apology, Patrick. I’m sorry for the way we ended things. Not just now, but before.”

  I nodded and said quietly, “So am I.”

  She took a breath. “I wasn’t the only one who got hurt, but I never acknowledged that, never told you that I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I punished you, but I never enjoyed it. Not for a single minute did I feel less pain because of yours.” She swallowed
. “All of our problems stem from one snag, and it unraveled the whole sweater.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “We can’t be honest with each other about how we feel. I didn’t ask you to stay when you left me. I didn’t stop you from leaving the other night. I didn’t tell you the truth. And the truth is, I didn’t want you to go. The truth is that I miss you and I need you and I want you. That I’m glad you lied to me and snuck into my apartment to sleep. Because if it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have found you again. I’m just … I’m sorry that I let you down. I’m sorry I’m scared.”

  I stepped into her, slipped a hand into her hair. Her hand found my waist, resting just over the roses there. Just over the thorns. “I was scared too, Rose. Scared you’d leave. Scared you’d hurt me. So I hurt you first.”

  She closed her eyes and covered my hand with hers.

  “But,” I started.

  Her eyes opened again, shining with tears as fear flitted behind them.

  The words caught in my throat, and I swallowed them down, knowing the truth of the matter. Knowing what I had to do, for both of us. “I’ve waited so long to be here, in this place, in the same place. But it’s too late.”

  Her chin quivered, and she lowered it. I pressed my lips to her forehead.

  “Rose … we’re no good together. We’ll only keep hurting each other, over and over again. It’s vicious and destructive. Look at what we’ve done to each other. We don’t know another way, but I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I don’t want to hurt. I’m sorry, Rose,” I whispered, nose burning, voice thick as I closed my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  She said nothing, only took a shaky breath.

  A hot tear rolled onto my hand, still cupping her cheek. There was only one thing left to say, the words I’d never said, the words she needed to hear, needed to know. So I took a breath and whispered, “I love you, you know.”

  “I know,” she whispered back, still for a long moment before she stepped back, swiping a tear off her cheek. “I should go.”

  I nodded, throat tight, taking a step away to put more distance between us. And then she walked away, and I closed the door, completely empty.