by Tucker, RH
“Never. Also, you make me sound like a manwhore.”
He shrugs. “If the shoe fits, bro.”
“Dick.” I shove his shoulder, laughing. “Anyway, AJ sent me a text today. He got student of the month, so I told him I’d go to a dinner they’re having tonight.”
“Oh, okay. How is he? I haven’t heard you talk about him for a while.”
I lift my shoulders, leaning back against the counter. “He’s good. I can’t believe he’s in middle school now.”
I look away, hoping Micah doesn’t sense my discomfort. Ever since moving to Irvine, he’s the only one of my friends out here who knows what happened to me, and even that was an accident. At least, that’s what I tell myself. If I really thought about it, I’m sure on some subconscious level I got drunk on purpose during grad night and splurged to him the details of my previous life and subsequent self-imposed exiling.
“So, yeah, anyway …” I aimlessly shuffle papers on the counter. “Gonna meet up with them for a couple hours tonight out in Long Beach. His parents are taking him to the aquarium there, and we’ll meet up for dinner.”
“Cool. You should go back home for a weekend or something.”
“Eh, it feels too weird. If it’d just be my parents, maybe, but it’s always everyone else. Anthony and Cynthia, and all of my friends over there. Everyone’s so nice. I don’t deserve it.”
“Taylor, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
I nod again, wanting to end the conversation. Thankfully, Becky walks through the door, wearing nothing but skintight yoga pants, a white sports bra, and grinning widely at me. I don’t date, but if there’s a girl that I’d call a constant in my world, it’s Becky. No fuss, no muss. We keep it clean, with no strings attached.
“Hey, Taylor,” she says with a smile.
“What’s up, Becks?”
Leaning against the counter, her breasts are on full display; she doesn’t have to try very hard to flaunt them. They’re fake, but hell if I care. “How about that raincheck tonight?”
I groan. “Can’t do it tonight, heading out of town.”
Her exaggerated pout makes my eyes find her lips. “You’re no fun.”
“How about tomorrow night? Cal and Ethan are celebrating.”
“Oh.” She perks up with excitement. “Celebrating what?”
“They’re branching out. Cal’s finally opening up his own place.”
Eyeing me carefully, she looks around, dropping her voice. “Oh, are you gonna be joining them?”
“Not sure yet. Cal says it’s an open invitation, so we’ll see I guess.”
Leaning closer, she licks her lips. “You should. I’d love some more one-on-one time with you.”
“Oh, I don’t see that being a problem, no matter where I’m at,” I answer, lifting a brow. “You still have my number?”
“Of course.”
“Hit me up tomorrow, and I’ll tell you where we’ll be at tomorrow night.”
Her eyes linger on me as she walks into the gym, behind frosted glass doors. Micah chuckles behind me.
“Seriously, if there is anyone that you might as well just date, it should be Becky. I actually think she’s starting to like you.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Seriously.”
“Come on, Micah. She knows the score.”
He shakes his head, shrugging. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Would you ever think about trying something with her?”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. I know exactly what he’s talking about, but I don’t feel like having an honest conversation right now. “As a matter of fact, Micah,” I pause, making him give me a suspicious look, “there’s a whole lot of things I’d still like to try with her.”
He starts laughing. “And on that note, I’m gonna clean the locker rooms. Freak.”
* * *
Locking my helmet under the seat of my motorcycle, I wait for a few minutes, looking at the restaurant. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen them. It’s fine seeing and even talking to Anthony and Cynthia. But AJ is different. I thought it might get easier to be around him as time passed, but it’s the opposite. It’s harder.
I glance back at my crotch-rocket. It’s a constant reminder of everything. But it’s better than the alternative, which would be a car. I don’t think I’ve been in a car more than a few times in the last few years.
My phone dings.
AJ: I see you! LOL
Letting loose a chuckle, I turn around and look at the windows of the restaurant, finding him with his face pressed against one, sticking his tongue out. My chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh, easing my worries.
“Taylor, great to see you,” Anthony greets me as I get to their table.
“You too,” I reply with a smile.
“Look at you,” AJ says, getting to his feet, wrapping his hands around my bicep. “Dude, you’re like, the Hulk, or something.”
I laugh, ruffling his brown hair that matches Reese’s.
Cynthia gives me a hug as Anthony and AJ sit down, before holding me at a distance. “How are you, Taylor?”
“I’m good, I’m good. Thanks.”
Studying me carefully, her eyes run over the arm AJ just grabbed. “You’re taking care of yourself?”
I know what she’s talking about, and I catch Anthony looking up at me, paying particular attention.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just at the gym a lot more with the promotion. If I’m not studying, I’m working out. It’s not like it was before.”
“Are you sure?”
I want to be mad or annoyed or even indignant. But I can’t. She’s like a second mother to me, and I know she’s just watching out for me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“Okay,” she responds with another hug before sitting down.
Pulling up a seat next to AJ, I grab a menu. “How was the aquarium?”
“It was awesome!” He throws up his hands. “I got to touch an octopus!”
We all start laughing, and for a few moments, everything is fine. I’ve known them my entire life. AJ’s known me his entire life. So, we eat and talk and laugh, and there are split-seconds when everything feels normal. Brief flickers of time, when everything feels like it was and like I thought it was going to be. Even though I don’t see them often, it’s these moments that I try to remember the most.
Because I know once I leave, I won’t remember laughing with AJ about him enjoying the aquarium. I won’t remember Cynthia talking about the latest misadventure she had with my mom, and I won’t remember Anthony telling me the most recent friendly argument he got into with my father, about how the number one draft pick was a bust and how our team is going to play another horrible season.
I won’t remember any of that. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’ll only be consumed with memories of Reese. Anthony and Cynthia’s daughter. AJ’s sister, who he’ll forget more and more of as he gets older. And it’s all my fault.
Chapter 7
Sasha
“Isn’t this great?” Tara asks, bumping her elbow with mine.
“Yeah, great.” I should add ‘womp, womp’ with that, but I don’t.
It’s not that I didn’t want to come out tonight, but I would’ve liked to shower first. Tara waited for Rita and me as we closed down Banditos, so we could come to Chevy’s for some late night karaoke.
“Sash, if we would’ve gone back to your place you would’ve taken forever to shower, then probably would’ve bailed at the last minute talking about how tired you were.”
“Excuse you.” I poke her arm. “You try cooking over a hot grill for six hours straight and don’t want to clean up a little.”
“Hey, I work.”
“In the college bookstore. The grossest thing you’d get in your hair is dust bunnies.” I hold a strand of my hair and put it under her nose. “Smell this. It smells like grease and jalapeños.”
She laughs, pushing me away.
“Stop the complaining, lightweight,” Rita proclaims, dropping drinks in front of us. “I used to work at a bar where the last call was two in the morning, and the girls still wanted to go out partying somewhere until morning. Midnight is nothing.”
“Excuse me, old hag,” I laugh, pushing her arm, and she swats me back.
“So, who’re we looking at tonight?” Rita asks, taking a sip of her drink.
“No, I’m good.” I shake my head, taking a drink of my own.
“Oh, did a certain bad boy wear you out?” Tara asks, almost spitting out her drink.
“Ew!” I slap her arm, throwing a napkin at her. “And he’s not a bad boy.”
“Those weren’t the rumors I heard back in school.”
Rita leans closer. “You’ve been really hush-hush about whoever this guy is at work. I didn’t know he’s a bad boy. Does he have any tattoos? Piercings?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“Oh, gross. No, no piercings. Or tattoos. He’s got some scars though.”
“See?” Tara points at me like she’s right.
I shrug a shoulder. “See what? Scars don’t mean anything.”
“You’re still not saying much,” Rita teases.
“I’m not talking about it because there’s nothing to talk about. It’s a one and done thing. He’s not interested in a relationship or anything like that, which, believe it or not, is kind of a relief.”
Giggling, Tara bumps my elbow. “Well, at least someone got lucky that night.”
Rita leans over. “Don’t look now, but you might get your chance, Tara.”
“What?” Tara looks around, and I follow her gaze. Across the room, leaning against the pool table are two guys. One gives Tara a head nod, and one looks at me, wiggling his eyebrows. Yes, he actually wiggles his eyebrows.
“Oh, God.” I quickly turn around and take another drink.
“They’re cute,” Rita says.
Both Tara and my head snap at Rita, who’s holding in a laugh.
“Stop staring.” I kick her under the table. “You never make eye contact. That just encourages them.”
“Hey, maybe we’ll get a free drink out of it.” She laughs again, then nods her head at them.
And that’s how we spend the next thirty minutes.
Look, it’s flattering. It really is. When a total stranger comes up and offers a compliment. And I’m not even really opposed to being hit on. However, there is a limit. You come up, introduce yourself, and offer a drink. If she says no, then you go on your way. You don’t sit down next to her and for the next twenty minutes try to explain how you’re the next great entrepreneur, selling the latest brand of shirts and shoes, and how your Mercedes is in the shop tonight, so you and your boy are using Uber.
Yes, that’s what he did.
“Hey, Ricky?”
“What’s up, babe?”
Babe? Seriously? Ever since him and his “boy,” Junior, came over, it’s been nothing but babe, honey, pretty thing, and spicy mama. I don’t even think he remembers my name.
“Seriously, we were just looking for a nice evening alone. Thanks for the drinks, but if you don’t mind …”
He waits for a moment, then looks over at Junior, who rolls his eyes.
“Told you,” Junior hisses and then gets out of his chair, walking over to the bar.
“Rude,” Tara spits out, and I see Rita still holding in her laugh. She’s been doing it ever since they came over.
Before I look back at Ricky, my attention is caught by someone sitting at the bar, eyeing me. For a moment I’m about to roll my own eyes—thinking this place is nothing but a den for male egos, and they’re all out on the hunt tonight—when I see the crooked smile I got to know up close and personal almost a week ago.
Taylor.
He gives me a slight nod.
“Come on, pretty thing. Look, sorry about my boy, he’s still pissed off over something.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” I counter. “Can I just point out the obvious … that I smell like grease and my hair is in a bun with a fork through it. Does that seem like something a girl would wear out if she wanted to be hit on?”
“Whoa, whoa, calm down, honey.” He rubs my hand on the table.
I yank it away, and now that he’s crossed the touching threshold, I’m about to yell at him, when Taylor catches my sight again, walking behind him, standing next to the DJ who plays karaoke. He eyes me slowly, still smirking, then his gaze floats over to Ricky. He lets out a louder chuckle. Cocky bastard.
“It’s Sasha. Or did you forget that?” I finally pin Ricky down with a stare.
“Of course not. But I’m trying to be nice. Look, I’m not asking to hook up with you tonight, why’re you being so rude?”
“Rude? We told you three time we were just hanging out tonight. We were trying to be nice.”
“I was only in it for the drink,” Rita butts in, letting loose her laugh.
“See?” Ricky points to her, almost flattered by her remark. “She’s having a good time. Look, let’s just talk. You have stunning eyes by the way.”
My jaw drops and I look over at Tara. Now she’s the one holding back a laugh.
“My eyes? Cliché much? What’s next, you gonna tell me my hair is gorgeous?”
“Well, now that you mention it—”
“Her eyes are beautiful,” Taylor jumps in, sliding a chair over and sitting down next to me.
I don’t have time to react, or even think for that matter. Seamlessly, his arm slides around me, nearly pulling me in his lap, and then his lips slam into mine. I might be upset about it, even if I think he’s doing it to help me out, but instantly I’m transported back to our night together. Remembering his taste. The feeling of his lips pressed against mine.
His tongue barely swipes my lip, before he pulls away, brushing his mouth against my ear. “I’ve been watching you for twenty minutes. It’s been hilarious.”
“I didn’t need your saving,” I whisper back to him.
“No, you probably didn’t. But I couldn’t resist.” Finding my eyes again, he’s just about to go in for another kiss, when Ricky knocks on the table.
“Yo, man, what the hell?”
Keeping his arms around my waist, Taylor leans to the side, staring at him. His flirty, crooked grin is gone, and he stares at him with complete disregard. Like he’s the one in charge even though he just showed up. It’s freaking hot.
“Can I help you with something?”
Instead of answering him, Ricky glares at me with annoyance. “You have a boyfriend? What the hell?”
His arrogant attitude, acting like I’m the one who’s done something wrong, kicks something on inside. “Excuse you. I told you we were just hanging out tonight. It’s girls’ night out. I was trying to be nice, even though you’ve been nothing but a pushy douchebag, buying us drink after drink, probably hoping for a quickie in the bathroom.”
“This is bullshit.” He stands up from his chair, causing a loud screech to be heard.
Without notice, Taylor slides me off and rises from his chair. Standing taller than Ricky, his navy blue T-shirt stretches across his chest, and he folds his arms. I see the little scars on his elbow and notice his forearm rippling. His chestnut brown hair sticks out in a beachhead look, and I remember running my fingers through it.
Staring down Ricky, his voice drops lower as he asks, “Do we have a problem?”
Ricky looks at me then back at him, shaking his head. “No problem. I was just leaving.”
I don’t care if he’s acting like he’s marking his territory, I’m completely turned on right now.
“You bitch,” Rita blurts out, her mouth open, with Tara covering her mouth, as she laughs. “It was nothing? This,” she waves at Taylor, who sits back down and looks at me in confusion, “is definitely not nothing.”
I can only bite my lip, averting my gaze, feeling my face go flush.
“What are you talking about?” Taylor sits b
ack down, turning his attention to Rita.
“We asked Little Miss Thing here about you, and she said it was nothing,” Rita answers, as Tara almost spits her drink out.
“Rita!” I growl through a clenched jaw.
“Is that right?” He looks over at me, one eyebrow raised, that cocky, crooked grin returning. My eyes are locked on Rita’s until he leans closer, his whispers returning to my ear. “Maybe someone needs a reminder of how great ‘nothing’ was.”
I’m trying to stay as stoic and statue-like as I can. I promise you, I am. But that does nothing to help the flush I feel crawl over my cheeks.
Both Rita and Tara stare at me. I don’t know if they heard him, but I’m positive they know what he’s talking about, and they both seem to be waiting for my response.
“Um, Tara?”
“Yeahhhh?” She elongates the word, grinning from ear to ear.
“You, um … did you guys want to stay longer or …”
Now they’re both holding back laughs.
“I was thinking about leaving right now, myself,” Rita adds. “I can give you a ride home if you want, Tara.”
I don’t have to imagine what Tara’s thinking, as she leans closer to Taylor, but stares at me. “Sure. Will you be okay alone, Sasha?” Her words are enunciated perfectly, as if she’s reading a line from a cue card.
Bitch.
“I’ll be fine,” I retort through a locked jaw.
“I’m sure you will be.” Rita snickers.
I stare down at the table, painfully aware of Taylor chuckling.
* * *
He doesn’t cuddle. He told me that our first night together.
“There’s no time for cuddling,” he said, laughing that night.
But his arm is wrapped around me right now like it was our first time, and he’s asleep. There’s obviously a front he’s dealing with. I’m not stupid. He’s got an issue, but I’m being willfully ignorant of it because I know whatever it is, it’s not an ex-girlfriend. So, whatever his hang-up is, I’m okay with this.
