by RH Tucker
“What?”
I register the laugh that follows her word and tap my finger over her lips. “Have I told you that you’ve got sexy lips?”
Ignoring my comment, Ethan walks on my other side as I’m ushered out of the building. “Yeah, you’ve definitely had too much.”
My head’s floating and I think my feet are moving when I feel the cold hit my face. Ethan says something to her, and then I’m sitting in a car. Sasha leans over me, buckling a seatbelt across my chest. Reaching over me, her face and neck cross in front, and I reach up, running my hand up her arm.
“Hey,” I mumble out, trying my hardest to make sure I don’t slur my words.
“What?” She looks back at me, waiting.
“I didn’t … I didn’t do anything tonight.” I reach up, feeling my eyes get heavy, but still wanting to hold her.
“It doesn’t matter, Taylor,” she replies. “We’re not together, remember?”
Without waiting for my response, she shuts the door, and I watch her walk around the front of the car and then get into the driver’s seat. Then we’re off.
Chapter 15
Sasha
To say I was surprised to see Taylor’s name flash across my phone as I got off from work would be an understatement. I almost didn’t answer it, but then I thought maybe he’d be calling to apologize about how he left. So, upon answering his call, I was doubly surprised to be talking to a friend of his asking if I could pick him up because he was drunk off of his ass.
After talking to Felicia a little more, and then Tara after that, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when he originally left my apartment. I debated texting him and calling the whole thing off. It ran through my head again, as I cooked over the grill during my shift. Then the call came in, and even though I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, I didn’t feel right just leaving him out there without anyone either.
Maybe this is better though. He’s drunk and almost passed out in the passenger seat as I drive back to his place. Parking next to his bike, I walk over to the passenger door, and he stumbles out. He’s been quiet the entire drive. It’s difficult trying to help him hold himself up, but somehow we make it to his front door.
“It’s locked,” I whisper to him, hoping we’re not being too loud in the middle of the night and waking up his neighbors.
“I got door in my pocket,” he slurs.
“I think you mean keys.”
“That’s what I said. Boop.” He taps my nose with his finger, and I smile, even though I know he probably won’t remember any of this tomorrow.
As I’m rummaging my hand into his pocket, he laughs. “Girl, moving in on third base, and didn’t even buy me dinner.”
“We’re not dating, Taylor.”
“Right. Well, we did. I mean, we should and could because we did. You were perfect.”
Pulling out his keys, I stare at him for a moment. Droopy eyelids, covering over his hazel eyes, he still has a crooked grin, though it comes in and out, as he wobbles to and fro. He’s almost passed out standing up, and I’m trying to understand the words he just said, but know I need to get him down.
“Ah, home sweet home. Just like I promised you.” He yawns, pulling me closer and pressing his lips to my temple. I have just enough time to shut and lock the door before he drags me toward his room. “I have a confession to make,” he says, laughing to himself.
“Okay,” I answer, opening his door, and he immediately drops to the bed.
“I don’t think you’re gonna get lucky tonight.”
“Believe me, Taylor. You’re the one who gets lucky.” I can’t help the snarky reply.
“Ooh, feisty. I like it. I don’t remember you feisty. Always so sweet. Sweet and perfect.”
His words make me pause again. Standing over him, I watch him stumble with his shoes, trying to kick them off, but his feet slide sloppily over one another.
“Lay back.” I push him down, trying to ignore his words that are making my mind race, and reach for his shoes.
“I told you, you’re not—”
“I know, I know. See what happens when you drink too much?” I laugh, taking off his other shoe. “Here.” I pull him closer to remove his shirt. “Now lay down.”
He holds onto my hand as he lays his head on the pillow. “Thank you. You always take care of me.”
He thinks I’m someone else. He has to. It’s the only way his words make sense. I simply nod and pull my hand away, but he grasps it tighter. “No.”
“Taylor, I’m gonna go. You’re fine now.”
“I’m not fine. I haven’t been in a long time.” He rolls closer, sliding his legs off the bed, and wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face into my shirt. “Please, Reese. Please stay. Just this one night.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to come to grips with the fact I knew would eventually show itself. He is seeing someone else. Or was and is still hung up on her. Once again, I’m left holding the baggage of another guy who’s hung up on a girl he’s not with. I want to be mad at the situation and angry at myself, but I fight back the tears. I did like him. I hoped that there might be …
“Taylor, I don’t think—”
“Please, baby.” He looks up at me, and though his words are still slurring, there’s an honest and coherent expression across his face. His eyes are welling up. “I miss you so much, Reese. Please. I don’t want to be alone tonight. Please stay with me. You can leave me again in the morning, just like always. Just … stay with me tonight.”
It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong, and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I nod, crawling into the bed with him. He’s held me in the morning when we’re asleep. And in the quiet moments when we wake up, he’ll stay close, but it’s still nothing like right now. Tonight, he pulls me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me, and softly kisses my ear.
“Thank you.”
I nod again, still fighting back tears. This is so wrong, and everything inside is telling me to sneak out of his place when he falls asleep. But lying next to him, he stills, and eventually, I fall asleep, too … only to once again be woken up by his dreaming words.
They’re mumbled, but I make out a few. He’s apologizing for something. He sounds scared. Then he repeats her name. Reese. Then someone else’s name. AJ.
“He needs you. I need you.” His words seep out as I stare out of the window at the sun that’s already rising.
This time he wakes up from his nightmare with an incoherent scream. Sweat beads roll down his face, his chest heaving and glistening. Sitting up and on the edge of the bed, he speaks before I can ask him anything.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I really think you should talk—”
“I don’t need to talk to anyone.”
“Taylor—”
He casts a scowling glance back at me. “It’s nothing, Sasha. Besides, it’s none of your business.”
I sit up, wanting to slap him across the back of his head. “Hey, jerk? I brought your drunk ass home last night. I’m not asking you to bare your soul to me, but you’ve obviously got something going on.”
Quiet for a moment longer, I’m not sure if he’s going to reply when he stands up. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And thank you for helping me last night. You didn’t have to stay.”
“You asked me to.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I did?”
“Well …” I pause, biting my lip. Do I dare bring up the name? I guess it doesn’t matter since he’s obviously still hung up on her. “Not me, but Reese.” He stares at me, jaw grinding, and his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Who is she?”
“No one.” He answers fast and bluntly.
“She’s someone. You dream about her, and you thought I was her last night. Taylor, if you have a girl—”
“I don’t.”
“Fine, then if you still want your ex or something, then maybe—”
“She’s not an ex.”
We stare at
one another, his expression still faintly terrified while mine’s one of confusion. If he doesn’t have a girlfriend now or isn’t hung up on an ex, then what is it? “You said a different name this morning, too. AJ? Is that—”
“It’s no one.”
I release an exasperated sigh. “Taylor, what the hell is going on? We set this thing up because I told you I didn’t want to be some face in the crowd for you to add another notch to your belt.”
“You’re not, okay? Believe it or not, I like you a lot more than I have any other girl in a while.”
“Then—”
“But that doesn’t mean anything, Sasha. I told you, I’m not looking for a relationship. Even if I was, I can’t—” He stops his words, letting out a low growl at himself. “Forget it. Let’s just forget everything. Sorry, I can’t do this.”
Getting out of the bed, my curiosity is piqued, now more than ever. If he likes me, and he isn’t hung up on an ex, then what is going on? Maybe if he talks about it, we could actually be more than just friends with benefits.
“Taylor, you can talk to me. If you just tell—”
He pulls his arm away, walking over to his door and opening it. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I don’t care what you believe. It’s what I’m saying. And I’m not someone you need to lend a hearing ear to, okay? We aren’t dating. I’m not your boyfriend.”
“I know what we are. It was my idea.”
“So stop trying to help me because there’s nothing to help. And you and I don’t owe one another anything.”
“I didn’t say we did, but that doesn’t mean—”
“What aren’t you getting?” he yells at me, making me jerk my head back in shock. “We’re fuck buddies. End of story. You can leave now.”
We were both tentative to start this. I knew the risks going in, and though I felt something for him, I wasn’t sure what would happen. I didn’t know if it would end in a fizzle, if he’d stop texting or I’d decide I didn’t want to see him anymore. So there’s absolutely no reason for me to feel this crushed by his words, as he stands by his bedroom door, still holding it open, but his eyes gazing down at the ground. There’s no reason whatsoever. But I do feel hurt. And crushed. Like I was just slapped across the face for trying to be nice to him. As I approach the door and see Micah step out from their bathroom, his eyes darting back and forth between us before he hurries into his room, it only stings worse.
“You were right,” I finally say, pushing into his doorway. Turning to look at him, I grow angrier as he continues staring at the ground. “You are an asshole.”
Thankfully I’m working the dinner rush at the restaurant. Unthankfully, even prepping and cooking doesn’t take my mind off of everything. I knew I should’ve snuck out last night. What in the hell is wrong with me that I just let Taylor think I was someone else in his drunken stupor? But I didn’t leave. Even in his inebriated state, knowing I like him, it felt good that he actually wanted to be next to me, consciously. Albeit drunken consciousness, but still, he was awake and wanted me with him, instead of acting like we’re just friends who hook up. Again, what the hell is wrong with me?
“Where’s the side, Sash?” Manny yells at me, and I’m brought back to my greasy, loud, and hot world in the kitchen.
I shake my head as if it will clear it of my rampant thoughts. “Yeah, sorry. Sorry.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks, his face red, and I watch as a drop of sweat rolls down his cheek.
“Nothing, Chef. Sorry.” I walk the pan of sides over to him and head to the grill, trying to focus on finishing the rest of the dinner rush.
Unfortunately, the focus doesn’t last long, as a few minutes later Rita pokes her head in. “Hey, Sasha. Someone’s here to see you.”
“Who?” I yell back at her, throwing a pan in the sink.
“A guy.”
“Tell him to get lost. I’m done with that prick.”
I catch Manny’s look before seeing Rita’s surprised expression. “It’s not Taylor. Said his name is Micah.”
I lift my gaze to see her shrugging. “Um, okay. I can’t right now—”
“You can take a fifteen if you want,” Manny calls out. “We got this.”
Ian smiles with a nod, and I look over at Rita. “No. If he wants to wait, fine. I think we’ll be done in an hour.”
“Okay,” she replies and walks out.
An hour goes by, and we’re slowing down, so I’m sure Manny would be fine with me leaving my spot, but there’s only one reason Micah would be here. Taylor. I know that door is closed, and if it was him here, I might be tempted to take a plate of food out and dump it on him. I don’t know what Micah could say to make me change my mind, and I don’t think Taylor would send him, so whatever he has to say, he can wait. And when I do hear it, I doubt it will make any difference.
I take my time heading to the locker room and change. It’s actually going on two hours now, so I ask Rita if Micah’s still around. He is. Still unsure what he’s doing here, I decide to take a little bit longer before finally meeting him, where I find him sitting at a table.
“Taylor’s not man enough to apologize in person, so he sends you?”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “Uh, no. He doesn’t know I’m here. And I’m pretty sure he’s gonna be pissed once he finds out.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Scanning the dining room, he nods over to the front doors. “Can we talk outside?”
“Sure.”
He wrings his fingers as we approach a small pickup truck. He doesn’t look nervous, but he doesn’t seem at ease either.
“Micah, I don’t know why you’re here, but whatever you want to tell me about Taylor, just forget it, okay? He’s a dickhead. And you know what? It’s partially my fault. I put him up to this stupid arrangement, and it’s blowing up in my face. Some guys don’t want a girlfriend, so I get that. It’s not like I’m just sitting on my ass, waiting for a guy to latch on to. But I should’ve known there was something. There’s always something with me.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” He stares a moment longer, and I have no intention of telling him my history, so I wave it off. “What do you want to say?”
“He told me you’ve got this friends with benefits thing—”
“Friends would be a stretch, especially after this morning.”
“Right. Sorry about that.”
“For what? You didn’t do anything. He’s the ass.”
“Yeah, but he has his reasons, Sasha. Look, I’m here because I can see it in him. I’m his best friend for almost three years. He doesn’t say it, but I notice it. He likes you.”
“He’s got a funny way of showing it.”
“Like I said, he’s got his—”
“I don’t care, okay? He’s hung up on someone, so fine. Whatever.” I kick at the ground in the dark parking lot. “I’ve dealt with that before. Maybe he’s just sleeping around, trying to forget her. He wouldn’t be the first guy to do that, and I’m sure he won’t be the last, but I refuse to be a placemat for him. He’s got issues, and they seem like major ones. Do you know he actually called me her name last night?”
“He did?”
“Yeah, in his drunken daze, he said he missed me. Her. I’m not gonna be that again. You should be talking to him, not me. He needs to get his shit together and talk to whoever Reese is. He’s obviously still hung up on her.”
“He can’t.”
I start to back away, over toward my car. This conversation is going nowhere. “I don’t care if it’s hard, he’ll never get over it if he doesn’t. He has to.”
“He can’t, Sasha.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s dead.”
His words hang in the air. Of all the reasons I thought I’d hear as to why he’s still clinging to some girl, whether they broke up, one of them cheate
d on the other, or they were a high school couple who had to split up because of college, I never would’ve thought I’d hear the reason he just gave me.
“She died when he was a sophomore in high school. You’ve seen his scars?” I nod. “He got them in the accident. Broke his collarbone. He took his junior year off, doing home studies. He wouldn’t go back to school his senior year because of everyone he knew, so his parents moved out here. That’s when I met him.”
“Is that … he’s woken up a couple times from nightmares. Is that …”
Micah nods. “He told me he used to have them all of the time. Every once in a while he’ll get them, but lately, it’s been more. It’s because of you, and I know that freaks him out.”
“Me? Why?”
“Just …” He lets out a deep breath, finally looking away. “Just talk to him. Or get him to talk to you. Please? You’d be good for him.”
“Look, I like him, but I don’t think I can be someone’s therapy pillow.”
“No, sorry, that’s not what I mean. I just meant, you and him. Both of you, he can’t see it. Maybe you can’t either, but I’ve known him long enough to know you’re on his mind. You’re not just one of those girls he’ll hook up with and forget. He wouldn’t be dreaming about her so much if you weren’t on his mind, as weird as that sounds.”
“I don’t know. I think this is too much. I said he’s got issues before, and this just reinforces that. What he really needs is to figure himself out. Not by sleeping around either.”
“I’ve told him that already. I’ve given up on that fight. He uses it as a crutch, and as close as we are when it comes to this topic, he bottles everything up and doesn’t want to be told what to do. Schoolwork, job, even dishing out advice to me about my relationship, he’s great. Level headed and right more than half the time. When it comes to this?” He lets out a disheartened scoff. “He won’t listen to anyone. Why do you think he hardly ever goes home?”
