by Sara Breaker
He shook my hand. “Wayne Pemberton. Good to meet you,” he replied.
I nodded slowly, “Right.” I resisted the urge to ask him more questions, but it felt important to keep staring at him until he looked away.
Wayne cleared his throat and leaned over towards Claire. “Do you need another drink?” he prompted.
She smiled at him in reply. “Yeah,” she said, standing up with him. “Hey, we’ll just get the next round, you guys.”
Tyler stood up himself. “Hey, wait up for me,” he called out.
That made Janice snicker. “Ty wants to try out this girly drink, and he knows there is no way in hell I’m going to order it for him,” she told me.
“Right,” I chuckled at that, even though my gaze distracted up towards Claire at the bar a couple times.
But Janice was watching me and she gave me a calculating narrow-eyed look. “I know that look.”
I blinked, looking away. “What look?”
“That’s your getting-ready-to-pounce look.” Her jaw dropped. “Oh my god, you’re thinking of hitting on Claire,” she accused, before pointedly saying, “Don’t do it.”
I shot her a shocked look. “Please Janice,” I drawled, “I’m not thinking anything like that. Besides, Claire’s with Wayne. And, as you know, she would never in a million years,” I said emphatically. “Seriously, that all sounds so very, very, very, very un-Claire-like,” I concluded with a shake of my head, hoping I had hyperbole’d enough.
But Janice let it go quickly with a firm nod. “Well, good,” she said. “Wayne’s pretty nice. You’d better not mess it up.”
I paused, creasing my forehead in thought. Mess it up? As if somehow Janice was implying that Claire would be getting a raw deal if I got involved and she lost Wayne. Was he even good enough for her? Admittedly, I’d only been interested in going straight to the finish line with Claire. I never even really tried to just ask her out. And just then I wondered if Janice also thought I wasn’t good enough for Claire either. The thought wasn’t particularly encouraging.
Claire came back to the booth as the guys were waiting on the drinks to arrive, but she didn’t sit down. It looked like she was headed for the restrooms. And the ever-so-helpful Janice decided to give her a heads up. “Claire, you watch out for this guy,” she pointed out loudly, gesturing to me, “I think he’s trying to sleep with you,” fully in jest, not realizing how accurate she was being.
Too late for that, I thought, my lips pursed as I met Claire’s gaze to check her reaction.
But Claire just laughed. “Oh Janice,” she mumbled, shaking her head to herself. “Would you give me a little credit?” was all she said, before turning to head towards the back of the bar.
Except I caught her little glance back at me first, and I straightened up, my pulse beginning to race instantly in understanding.
I was on.
Tyler had come back to the booth, giving me an opportunity to sneak off to the back without Janice noticing. And as soon as I turned down the hall, I was unable to bite back my smile. Claire was at the end of the hall past the restrooms, leaning against the open doorway to the bar’s isolated back kitchen area. She was waiting for me.
“Hi,” she greeted me, this time with a smile, as I approached her.
“Hi.” Seeing her smile made my smile widen.
“Can you believe Janice?” she chuckled, making a face. “Do you think she would just literally explode if we tell her the truth?”
“Uh, yeah, I would imagine she would,” I cleared my throat, still sort of unsettled after that warning from Janice. “So…is that guy with you—”
“Wayne.”
I stopped short. “Wayne, right,” I went on. “Is that the same guy you went out with last week?”
She nodded. “Yeah, he’s really nice,” she relayed as she walked up closer to me. She furtively looked around to make sure nobody could see us, before deftly pushing me into the kitchen. Then she slid her hands up my chest and around my neck, making me shiver again, and then pulled my head down for a kiss.
She dug her fingers through my hair and I felt instantly warm all over. I put my arms around her, spinning to lift her up onto the counter, kissing her back. But I couldn’t concentrate. “So,” I murmured against her mouth, “what’s up with this Wayne guy?”
“I don’t know. He’s…nice,” she replied, putting her arms around my neck, still kissing me.
“Have you had sex with him yet?”
She stopped short, stunned, pulling away to look at me. “What?”
I creased my forehead. “So, what is it—are you cheating on him with me?”
“Of course not, silly,” she shook her head nonchalantly. “He knows we’re not exclusive.”
I met her gaze, bracing my hands on her arms. “Is this what we’re doing?” I paused for a long second, creasing my forehead. “What are we doing?”
Claire laughed lightly. “I just wanted to say hi. Lighten up, Alex.” She leaned up to kiss me again, and I closed my eyes, letting her sweetness wash over me, but then she broke off with a, “I should get back to Wayne.”
“Hey,” I held her fast, my frown deepening with the sudden constriction in my chest, “why don’t you just be with me tonight?” I coaxed huskily. I was trying to sound casual about it but for some reason, I was feeling unexpectedly possessive.
But Claire’s laughter just trailed off as she looked up at me, as if to tell me that she could tell I wasn’t serious. “You’d better go back first,” she merely instructed, unlatching my arms from her waist.
I was frowning when I got back to the booth at the same time as Marco, Wayne and Tyler were bringing back a pitcher and some bottles. I blinked distractedly, looking up at them. Then Claire walked back to the booth, looking as normal as worldly possible.
“Hey Claire,” Wayne started, “I actually have an early start tomorrow, so I think I should head off.”
But Claire straightened up as well. “Oh, hey, you know what?” she shot Janice a pointed look. “I think these two,” she gestured to Marco and Tyler, “have missed their little boyfriend,” she said with a grin, obviously referring to me. “Let’s just all leave them alone. Come on, Janice,” she took her arm to escort her away, “Wayne and I will drop you off home.”
I was still reeling a bit from the spur-of-the-moment covert make-out session with Claire. Don’t get me wrong. I knew the score. Claire was obviously just using me as a distraction away from Marco and Nina’s wedding. That was what I wanted too. And I had absolutely no qualms about it. But that night, seeing her with Wayne, I was feeling a little less than elated about the arrangement. I watched Claire all the while until the three of them left, kind of left hanging, almost feeling that somehow I missed her already. And that I really hated that guy.
But Tyler seemed eager to begin his interview, as if it had been orchestrated. “Alright, seriously Alex, now that the girls are gone, where have you been?” he wanted to know.
I shrugged big. “Nowhere. I told you.”
“Look, you’ve been gone for months. That’s not something you can just shrug off. I think we both know you a little better,” Marco pointed out as he refilled his pint.
I tilted my head, slightly uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “I just…I really was busy with work,” I insisted.
“Uh-huh,” Tyler gave me a look. “What’s her name?”
I let out a laugh, managing to cover my nerve. “Tracy, Alicia, Monique, Natasha—take your pick.”
“Dude,” Marco began meaningfully, “it’s us. You can tell us whatever it is—oh shoot,” he picked up his ringing phone almost instantaneously, “it’s Nina,” he said and he left the table to head towards the front door to take the call urgently.
I pursed my lips, leaning back against my seat in disbelief. “Thanks dude!” I called out carelessly. “Good talk.”
Tyler chuckled, shaking his head to himself. “I think Claire was right.”
I blinked warily,
pausing. “Why?”
“I think you should be jealous of Nina,” he said with a grin.
I sighed heavily, mostly in mirth. Maybe they were both right. For sure, I was missing my wingman. I’d never really had a best friend in my life, but Marco was the closest thing I had. We had barely hung out in the past few months. And he was getting married next week, moving on with his life. Maybe he would be so busy with married life that we wouldn’t see each other anymore. Everything was about to change. And maybe all of this was shining a huge spotlight on how small and empty my life might be viewed in comparison that the insecurity was manifesting in all this chaos regarding Claire. And maybe after all the wedding craziness passed, Claire and I would just simply part ways and agree that this was the best distraction ever. Like, of all time.
“Look,” Tyler’s chuckle trailed off and he began again seriously, “if it’s a matter of you don’t have anyone else to talk to, since Marco is off spinning in wedding planning world at the moment that he wouldn’t notice if a meteor crash landed on the bar right now—honestly, just let me know,” he assured, patting my back.
I almost laughed again. I honestly didn’t know what the hell was going on either. Regardless, Tyler was definitely right about one thing. Whatever the hell it was, the absolute last person I could tell was Marco.
Nina’s Bachelorette Party
Or rather, the morning after Nina’s Bachelorette Party.
I half-opened my eyes, just on the brink of waking up, and creased my forehead instantly.
Claire’s light brown hair was half-buried under my pristine white sheets as she lay, still asleep, beside me in bed.
I blinked a few times, but not moving otherwise, the events of the previous night all coming back to me. Claire had shown up drunk at my door in the middle of the night. She had come from Nina’s bachelorette party, and the two of us had fallen into bed again.
I sighed heavily, rolling over to face the ceiling.
Usually, the random one night stand that I brought back to my apartment would have been long gone in the early hours of the morning. If not, I would have already dropped all the hints required for them to do so, short of kicking them out the door.
But this was Claire.
The last time she was here was New Year’s Eve and she had bolted out the door after two minutes.
I didn’t understand what was going on with me, and I’d had enough of a headache trying to figure it out all week. I was sick of thinking. All I knew for the moment was that I didn’t feel the need to quickly get up and make up an excuse to disappear post-haste. And I didn’t mind waking up next to Claire.
I turned slightly to reach over to brush the hair back from her face.
“Mm…” Claire murmured, her eyes fluttering open as she woke. “Alex…?”
A corner of my mouth curled up involuntarily. At least she remembered whose bed she was in well enough. “Morning,” I said under my breath.
But then she creased her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut again, groaning out loud. “Oh man!” she moaned, “my head is pounding…”
That made me laugh.
Claire had a terrible hangover.
“Ohh, sssshhhh!!” she shushed loudly, burying her head under the pillow. “Aspirin!!”
I stifled my laughter as I carefully got up, patting her back. “Stay here. I’ll go get you something,” I said, barely above a whisper.
“Shut up, Alex—you’re so loud!” Her groan was partially muffled by the pillow.
I shook my head to myself in amusement as I headed towards the kitchen.
The days coming to Marco and Nina’s wedding were rushing on by. I had finally dutifully completed all my groomsman tasks. My suit had been fitted and was hanging in my closet. Registry gift selected, wrapped up and sent. I had done my part of Nina’s bidding regarding her other wedding errands. And tomorrow, everyone was flying off to Vegas for the wedding that weekend.
I honestly didn’t know whether or not I was relieved to be getting the wedding over and done with. I had been back hanging out at the bar with the guys for the past few nights, even as Claire and I were still doing the down-low, sneaking around. But who knew, without the wedding to be distracted from, it was possible that these could be the last few days that we were going to be hooking up.
I came back to the room with a glass of water and a bottle of Gatorade.
Claire opened one eye to peek up at me from beneath the pillow. “Where’s the aspirin?”
I sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “This is better,” I chided lightly. “Don’t worry. I can tell a major hangover when I see one, and trust me, I am highly experienced with hangovers, having had so many myself.”
She wrinkled her nose up at me, slowly pushing herself up, wrapping the bed sheet up around her torso as she did. “Steer into the skid, huh?” she asked, reaching out her hand for the bottle.
I chuckled under my breath, “Always.” I stroked her back.
Claire smirked a little. “Thanks Alex.” She shook her head slowly just then. “I’m so sorry. I know girls don’t usually stay this long in your apartment. I promise I’ll be out the door just as soon as I can get my bearings.”
I creased my forehead, slightly weirded out that she was concerned about that. “Look, you take your time, alright?” I advised. “I’ll go see if I can find something to eat.”
I was making some toast in the kitchen when I heard some thumping and moving around at the other end of the hall. I stopped. “Claire,” I called out, raising my eyebrow curiously, “you okay back there?” And when I walked back to the room, I almost ran into her coming out, at the same time as she was trying to zip up the back of the dress she had been wearing last night, carrying her high heels by their straps in her other hand. I gave her a surprised look. “What are you doing?”
She gave me a sheepish look. “I really should go,” she replied, even as she was making a face, likely caused by her splitting headache.
I gave her a pointed look. “No,” I shook my head firmly, turning her around to head back into the room. “Claire, you are hung over. You need to stay and rest and eat something. Now, don’t make me tear that dress off of you again, ‘cause I admit I totally enjoyed that last night,” I quipped with a grin.
Claire’s grimace shifted slightly as she laughed. “Fine!” she sighed resignedly. “Saves me having to return this dress,” she joked.
“Look, if you’re feeling up to it, you can go have a quick shower,” I told her, pointing towards the bathroom. “You can grab some clothes from the closet. There should be some flannels in the back.”
“Oh, you mean I can’t borrow one of your Dolce suits to throw up in?” she asked mischievously, and I shot her a deadpan warning look. But she just laughed. “Alright already, Mr. Bossy,” she rolled her eyes, shooing me out of the room.
I grabbed a plain white t-shirt myself as I headed back to the kitchen, shaking my head, mostly in mirth. I couldn’t help but feel particularly light. I was finding Claire’s company unexpectedly settling, and it felt good to be in charge for a change. I smiled to myself as I sliced some fruit.
I heard Claire run the shower for a few minutes, and when she finished, I heard some more thumps and rummaging, and I assumed she was looking for those flannel shirts. Then I heard her call out, “What’s all this?” from inside the room.
I glanced up. I couldn’t see her from the kitchen. “What’s what?” I replied loudly, not moving from the kitchen.
“What’s what?” she echoed in ridicule. “This mountain of boxes that I have to climb over in your closet to get to your cheap-ass clothes section.”
My eyes widened as I remembered. “Oh, jeez, right,” I replied. “Sorry about that mess. My mom sent me some boxes of my stuff—she’s finally selling our old house. Are you—,” I tried to crane my neck to see down the hall, since I was almost elbow-deep in fruit peel, “do you need to me to—?”
Then I heard more thumping. “Nah, I’m fine,” she c
alled out. Then I saw her poke her head out of the room doorway in time to meet my gaze from the kitchen. “Aww,” she made a face, “cute dog!”
I stifled my laughter, assuming that she had found a framed photo of my old dog, Bunker, among the boxes.
She poked her head back into the room. “I can’t imagine my folks ever selling our old place,” she remarked loudly so I could hear. “I mean, selling the house you grew up in. That must feel weird, huh—all those childhood memories?”
“Yeah,” I shrugged nonchalantly, replying loudly in turn, “not really. I actually barely grew up there, ‘cause you know, right after the divorce…” I trailed off, slightly uncomfortable.
But I didn’t have to finish. She knew. “That’s right,” she said, slightly subdued. “Your dad died.”
I stopped chopping for a moment at the memory, before I blew out my breath to shake it off. “Yeah, so mom’s moving down to some condo in San Diego with Mr. Pilot Man #3,” I rolled my eyes, switching tones, trying to make a joke out of it.
“Mm,” I heard Claire murmur absently. She poked her head out of the room again briefly to give me a funny expression as she held up a yellowed bandanna. “Alex, seriously?” she prompted skeptically. “You were a boy scout?”
I shot her a narrow-eyed look. “Yes,” I replied, trying not to look embarrassed. “And I was a damn good one,” I relayed, knowing all my badges and certificates were in the same pile in the box.
Then after a beat, she called out something, “Did you just print these out too?”
“Thanks a lot,” I rolled my eyes again, shaking my head to myself. “What are you even rummaging around in there for?”
“I don’t know. I’m curious. Who was the guy in these boxes? He seems kinda cool.”
I stiffened slightly. “Well…I’m different now.” I was sort of torn between bragging about all of my old sports medals and trophies and being self-conscious from how the hard evidence of a somewhat meager version of myself might appear to Claire. But I shook it off again, trying to wave her away pointedly, even though she couldn’t see me. “Look, stop snooping around in there. That’s personal.”
