Choosing Henley

by Anne Jolin

  I smile at her. Perceptive little thing.

  Jami returns after awhile with a tray of tequila shots. He seems to have shaken off his earlier moodiness, and for that, I’m thankful. Moody Jami is exhausting.

  “I’m ready to get fucked up!” Jay shouts and starts singing the LMFAO song, “Shots.” Which really isn’t that hard considering that the entire song basically goes, “Shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shot, EVERYBODY, shots…” You get the idea.

  We all cheers and knock back the tequila. I close my eyes to feel the slow burn, and when I open them, I’m met by a pair of heated brown eyes. His gaze lingers on my mouth before travelling across my breasts, down my long legs, and back up again.

  I feel the flush spread across my chest, and I’m not sure if it’s from the tequila or the look in his eyes, but either way, I know that this night has trouble written all over it.

  And with that thought in mind, I head to the bar for another round.

  I WEAVE MY way through the crowd, finally making it to my destination—the bar. It’s almost eleven thirty now and it’s impossible to get a waitress to bring you drinks. Well, unless you want to wait until after the new year for them, anyway. I slink my way through some of the people who are so far gone that I’m not sure they even know what year we are in and land a prime spot along the edge of the bar. I shoot the bartender a wink and he nods in my direction. Oh so what? Like you’ve never used the whole ‘I’m a girl’ shtick before to get served faster. Please. I’m still waiting to be served when a guy slides up to the bar in front of me.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he slurs, tossing me what I assume he thinks is an attractive grin. Maybe sober it might be, but right now, he kind of looks like one of those chimpanzees at the zoo.

  I smile back at him but don’t say anything, turning my attention back to the busy bartender. A moment later, I feel a hand running down my backside and warm beer breath against my neck.

  “Did it hurt?” my drunk admirer questions.

  I reach around to remove his hand from my ass and spin around to face him, putting some space between us. “Excuse me?” I arch my eyebrow and fold my arms under my chest.

  I meant to come across bitchy, but my action distracts him and he’s now staring at my pushed-up chest. Stupid big boobs. I drop my arms again and wait for him to answer. In the light and when he’s not drunker than an Irishman on St. Patty’s day, he probably would be very attractive. He’s blond and decently tall, standing maybe an inch or two taller than I do in my heels, and he has that whole ‘college guy’ vibe oozing off him. Definitely a tourist.

  “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. How unoriginal is that?

  He looks incredibly proud of himself as he reaches out to grab my waist again. I start to back away, but the bar is too crowded and I just bump into the person behind me. He squeezes my hips harder than he should, which causes me to wince. Even with a stellar buzz going, that fucking hurts.

  I place my hands on his chest and shove. Too bad for me, he’s built like a brick shithouse and doesn’t move an inch. He starts to lean in towards me, but I’ve had enough. Somebody needs to knock frat boy down a peg.

  “Listen up, doll face,” I seethe sarcastically. Somewhere in my twenty-five years, I developed a habit for using pet names in a derogatory way. “I don’t know what about you and your popped collar”—I wave one hand around his neckline—“makes you think you can do whatever you please, but news flash, frat boy. You can’t. If you could please take your paws off me before I shove my heel up your ass, that would be greatly appreciated.”

  I shoot him a nasty grin and place my hands over his to remove them from my waist. When his hands don’t budge again, I look up to see the anger in his eyes. Oh goodie! Frat boy has anger problems. No doubt making up for having a pencil dick.

  His fingers dig harder into my hips, and I cry out as he opens his mouth to say something. “Listen here, you little bitch…” He trails off and his eyes go wide as he looks at something over my shoulder. Before I have a chance to turn, I feel a familiar arm wrap around my waist from behind, pulling me from the frat boy’s tight grip.

  “Do we have a problem?” Jami growls from behind me. My body involuntarily shivers at his tone.

  Frat boy puts his hands up in a mock surrender and shakes his head. “Uhh, no. My bad, dude,” he stutters.

  Frat guy might be built like a brick shithouse, but Jami is taller and far more intense. Even in my high heels, he’s still a good four inches taller than I am, and his body is toned, muscles everywhere. His chiselled jaw is always sporting a five-o’clock shadow, and there’s no doubt a fire blazing behind those chocolate eyes. He’s intimidating, and that’s even with all of his tattoos covered up.

  “I think it would be wise if you got a drink at the other end of the bar,” Jami suggests, his tone laced with venom.

  Frat boy stumbles backwards, making a hasty retreat, and I smile as I watch him leave. Serves you right, handsy assclown. The triumphant smirk on my face quickly slips when I feel breath on my ear.

  “Are you okay, Beatle?”

  I shiver again, and he groans.

  “I’m fine,” I say, and I mean it. Those jackasses are a dime a dozen around here with the amount of tourists we get, but usually, they aren’t as persistent.

  Jami’s large hand is still splayed across my stomach, and I’m distracted by the way my body is burning up at his touch.

  “Thank you,” I whisper softly.

  He squeezes me tighter against his body. “I’ve got you,” he whispers before letting me go.

  My body aches for him the moment he pulls away. Traitorous body. Between the way he affects me and the shots of tequila, I feel almost dizzy. Not in an I’m-too-drunk-and-going-to-fall-on-my-face type of dizzy, but the good kind when you feel like your heart is pumping liquid heat throughout your entire body. I am drunk with lust tonight.

  I’m still collecting myself when he moves in front of me and leans over the bar. The movement causes his muscles to tighten. I swallow hard as a memory of my nails clawing over his back flashes behind my eyes. Flashbacks of him always catch me off guard. Jami turns to face me and winks before ordering two more shots. I swear to God it’s like he knows what I’m thinking. He pays for our drinks before we knock them back at the bar.

  “Dance with me,” he says, resting his hip against the bar.

  The panic quickly starts to bubble up in my throat, and he must be able to see it because he speaks again.

  “It’s just a dance, Lennon.”

  I chew on my bottom lip before nodding.

  Jami leads me through the bar with his hand resting across my lower back. I’m so aware of him. Every time his hand shifts and his thumb grazes my bare skin, it’s hard to focus on walking. Bloody high heels. Amanda Bynes had it right in She’s The Man. “Heels are a male invention designed to make a woman’s butt look smaller. And to make it harder for them to run away.” I am definitely going nowhere fast in these bad boys.

  He pushes us through the crowded dance floor, stopping when he sees our friends dancing. He turns around to face me, grabbing each of my wrists and wrapping them around his neck. I lock my fingers together as he places his hands on my lower back, dragging my body closer.

  The music is fast, but we’re dancing slowly. Our cheeks are touching and the moment feels incredibly intimate though we are surrounded by so many strangers. Alcohol makes me bolder. At least that’s the excuse I’m using for the statement that bursts from my mouth.

  “Why did you break up with Kelsey?” I question, not pulling away to look at him. I’m somewhat embarrassed that I actually asked out loud.

  He moves one of his hands up to brush the hair off my neck. “I think it’s safe to say we both know why.”

  I don’t acknowledge his statement because that would be admitting our connection out loud to someone other than the girls and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.


  We haven’t been dancing for very longing when I hear the countdown start. “Ten…nine…eight…”

  “I don’t know why you’re scared of this, of us…” he whispers into my ear.

  “Six…five…four.” The countdown continues on around us.

  “But I’m done pretending there isn’t something here.” He pulls away to look in my eyes.

  “Happy New Year!” the crowd rings out as he smashes his lips onto mine.

  I moan as he pulls me tighter to him, running my fingers into his hair. Everything around us seems to completely stand still. All the people, balloons, and twinkle lights blurring together around us. He urges my lips apart, exploring my mouth with his tongue. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a kiss that literally leaves you breathless, but this one is exactly that. My eyes are still closed tight when he breaks our kiss and I whimper, opening my eyes to search for his lips again.

  “You’re going to love me, Beatle. Fight it all you want, but when this clock counts down a year from now, you’ll be mine for good. Just you wait and see.” His chocolate eyes are locked on mine, and I can’t look away even if I tried. “You’re mine already. You just don’t know it yet.”

  I don’t get a chance to answer before the world around us starts moving again. I vaguely hear the famous tune of “Auld Lang Syne” playing in the background as our friends swarm around us, wishing the best for the new year.

  And what a hell of a new year it is shaping up to be.

  ‘I’M BOSSY. I’M the first girl to scream on the track. I switched up the beat of the drum. That’s right, I brought all the boys to the yard, and that’s right, I’m the one that’s tattooed on his arm.” Somewhere way too close to my ear, “Bossy” by Kelis is blaring.

  “What the fuck,” I groan, my eyes still closed.

  It’s the morning—or if I have to guess now, probably the afternoon—of New Year’s Day. Bill’s closed down around four last night, and by the time we all caught cabs home, it was nearly six in the morning before we managed to go to sleep. I use the term ‘sleep’ loosely because, now that Hannah has moved out, Beth likes to crash in my room when she is drunk. And Beth is a snuggler. Hardcore snuggler, I might add.

  Said snuggler mimics my groan and starts blindly whacking her hand around on my side table. She knocks something over and I hear a thwack as it slams onto the floor.

  “Motherfucker,” Beth curses as that stupid song keeps playing the same lines over and over again.

  I bury my head into the pillow to wait out the torture that is Beth’s ringtone.

  “There you are, you evasive little shit,” she says, scolding her phone. She clicks the phone to silent before she moves around in the bed.

  Now that she’s done with that, I can feel her staring at me without even opening my eyes. “What?” I ask.

  “Oh don’t you what me, you hungover grumpus. You know what,” she says—a little too loudly.

  “Your sister’s right. You’re a nosy little shit,” I quip back, shoving my face farther into the pillow.

  She doesn’t say anything, but I feel the mattress dipping as she moves around again. When I hear her pick something up, I relax back into the bed. She’s getting up. Then I hear a quiet ringing and open one eye to look for her. Aw hell. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed with her phone on speaker mode in her hands. It rings three times before a sleepy voice fills the air.

  “Morning, butthead!” Beth shouts into the phone, and I wince.

  “Do you have to fucking yell, Beth?” Hannah’s voice comes over the phone. “It feels like there are tiny men bashing hammers around in my brain. Let’s use our inside voices.”

  Beth looks at me and smirks. “John over here was just saying how you’re always right and how I’m a nosy shit. So I thought we might as well do this like old times. A shakedown if you will.” She cocks a perfect, blond eyebrow at me.

  I flip her the bird in return before slowly sitting up. “You’re completely insane,” I mutter, sweeping my hair up into a ponytail.

  “Did you seriously think we weren’t going to notice?” Hannah laughs from inside the little demon box of technology that’s trying to crack open my skull.

  “I wasn’t really thinking about you two buttheads at that specific moment,” I reply snarkily. Nothing like waking up hungover to a cross examination in your own bed.

  “How drunk were you?” Beth asks.

  I sigh and give in. “Not that drunk,” I answer honestly. I remember everything. The time-stopping kiss, and the declaration of… Well, I’m not really sure what that was, actually.

  “This isn’t going to work over the phone,” Hannah states. “It’s nearly impossible to get her to tell us anything in person, let alone through the phone, where I can’t see her face. Let’s meet for breakfast… Err… Make that late lunch.”

  “Fine,” I say, flopping back down on the bed.

  “Sounds good to me! I need waffles!” Beth replies, sounding like Donkey from Shrek.

  Twenty minutes later, Peyton, Beth and I are climbing into my SUV to meet Hannah for a late lunch. She meets us at Ricky’s All Day Grill and we are seated quickly due to the odd time of day.

  To say we looked haggard would probably be putting it kindly. We are all dressed in some variation of yoga pants, UGG boots, and sweaters. I am almost certain that Beth’s makeup is what’s left over from last night, and Hannah’s hair looks like she just rolled out of bed—which, knowing Mr. Hunnam, isn’t unlikely. Whether he was hungover or not. Sticking to our ‘don’t go out without nice hair’ rule, Peyton and I tamed our rat’s nests to make them look somewhat presentable.

  After we’ve ordered our food, my phone buzzes on the table while the girls are talking. I pick it up and almost drop the phone when I see the name. Jami.

  Jami – It’s the first day of my new year’s resolution…

  Curiosity gets the better of me and I quickly tap out my reply.

  Me – New year’s resolution?

  Jami – Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten so soon…

  Me - …

  Jami – To make you fall madly, hopelessly, in love with me...

  I smile down at my phone. He’s absolutely bonkers.

  Me – Are you still drunk?

  Jami – I’m serious as a heart attack, Beatle. I’ll pick you up at eight.

  I check the time. That’s in a little over four hours.

  Me – To do what exactly?

  Jami – That’s for me to know and you to find out.

  Me – I don’t believe I said yes to doing anything with you today.

  Jami – You don’t have a choice. Not anymore.

  I shake my head at the little screen but don’t answer. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about us hanging out together alone. We’ve only done it that one other time. I suppose that, as long as it’s just as friends, it will be okay.

  I must have been off in my own world for a little too long because Hannah speaks from beside me. “Earth to Lennon. Who are you texting?”

  My stupid body gives me away again and I blush, shoving my phone into the pocket of my sweater. “No one,” I lie.

  “No one my ass. You can’t lie for shit Len.” Beth challenges from across the table.

  Both the Rhodes sisters are staring at me expectantly, and when I look to Peyton, I find that she’s watching me with a matching curiosity in her grey eyes.

  “Bunch of nosy shits, the lot of you,” I say before finally spilling the beans. It’s not easy to talk about this with them, but honestly, the night seems like so much of a dream that it’s like I’m telling them about something that’s not real. And it can’t be real. Not with Jami.

  By the time I’m done, Beth is clapping her hands together in her seat and Peyton is beaming at me from across the table. Hannah is the only one whose smile is more knowing, more cautious. Beth’s attention is quickly caught by something else, and she begins nattering on about it to Peyton.

  I feel Hannah’s hand on my elbo
w and she smiles softly. “I know how big this is for you.”

  “It’s not a big deal, Han. We are just going to be friends. That’s all,” I say, ignoring the pain in my heart when I think of us being just friends.

  “I’m not sure who that line is supposed to convince, Lennon.” She grins knowingly at me before giving my elbow a squeeze. “He usually gets what he wants, Len, and I’d be willing to bet a million dollars that what he wants is you.”

  We spend the next hour or so going over the night and laughing. Being that it’s New Year’s Day and almost everything is closed, none of us have anything to do. Even the salon has closed down until the fourth. It doesn’t escape me that, every time someone mentions Jay, Peyton blushes or smiles. Roomie just might be sporting a crush for our hilarious, handsome friend. We pay and say our goodbyes to Hannah before the three of us get back in my SUV.

  Once we get home, I climb into the shower, trying not to focus on the fact that Jami and I are…hanging out. Wow! That sounds lame even in my head. I blow out and flat-iron my long hair, deciding to pass on makeup. If I want to make a point that we were just friends, going without a face seems like a small start. Besides, I don’t really wear makeup all the time unless it’s to go to work.

  After I slip into a pair of jeans, brown boots, and a long-sleeved T-shirt, I snag a coat out of the hallway closet and go out to wait for him in the kitchen.

  It’s five minutes to eight and I start to fidget. My knee is bouncing and I’m biting at my fingernails. Is it too late to bail? God I hope it’s not too late to bail. This was a terrible idea. I reach into my jacket pocket for my phone just as a tap sounds from the front door. Shit.

  I grab my coat from beside me and stand to open the door. When I do, the sight of him almost knocks me on my ass. I was with him less than twenty-four hours ago, but it almost feels like it’s been too long. You’re not supposed to think that about your ‘friends,’ the voice inside my head scolds me.

  Jami is leaning against the doorway, smirking. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey yourself,” I say back, standing there awkwardly at the door.