Inside the shop, I stare at the menu board, trying to figure out which sandwich would look the sexiest and still be edible. When I finally figure out what to eat, the girl taking my order practically sneers at me showing her irritation to my good mood. She acts more like a barista than a sandwich artist—which is her actual title according to her nametag. Even she can’t ruin my disposition, though. When my sandwich is ready, I find a table near the window that provides natural light for my photo and settle in. As I unwrap my lunch, I fluff the contents trying to bring out its carnal appeal. I’ve snapped four pictures when a shadow casts across my table.
“Damn, Billings. I wish I was that sandwich. You look like you’re getting ready to blow it.”
I look up about to tell Scott where to stick it, when I see Peterson standing behind him. Apprehension blares on his face, but he slides in across from me anyway.
“I have to get to class,” Scott says, turning and bumping Dylan’s shoulder with his fist.
Peterson nods and meets my eyes without a word. I haven’t talked to him since the party, except for the text I sent informing him I was aware of his hookup. I take a bite of my sandwich trying to avoid his gaze. Dylan is still staring at me when I take a second bite.
“I guess we’re even then.”
I finish chewing and swallow. “What the hell are you talking about? We’re not even,” I say, glaring. “Chase is just a friend.”
“I’m not talking about the guy you claimed was your brother. I’m talking about the B actor you hooked up with in Hollywood last weekend. I assume he’s a friend of Sarah’s fiancé?”
B actor? I want to smack him. Has he even seen Liam’s show? I’m tired of men’s pissing contests. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“There are pictures online of you leaving an L.A. club with some actor. Alli, Sarah, and Jessica are with you. And then someone posted a picture of him kissing a blonde inside the club. I can tell it’s you. I say that makes us even.”
“Just because I kissed him doesn’t mean he carried me to his bed.” I hope he gets the reference. “Besides you and I were over by the time I kissed him.”
“I don’t want us to be over,” he says, his voice dripping with remorse.
“I guess you should have thought of that before you screwed the sophomore.”
“Shit.” He shakes his head. “I was drunk and hurt, and you wouldn’t answer my texts. You disappeared at the same time the guy left. What was I supposed to think? You’d already lied to me about him.”
“But, I didn’t leave with him and I didn’t sleep with him. And drinking is self-imposed stupidity, not an excuse.”
“I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry.” He glances out the window not meeting my eyes. I don’t think he wants to see the finality in them.
“Yeah, me too,” I say. We both know it’s over. I’ve already moved on. He reminds me of a little kid and no matter how mad I am, I feel sorry for him. I get up and crumple the rest of my sandwich inside its wrapper. It’s a waste, but I’m no longer hungry. I toss it in the trash and come back to the table for my stuff. I pull my backpack on and grasp his shoulder as I bend to kiss the side of his head. He leans gently against my lips and I hold them there longer than I should.
“I’ll see you around campus, Peterson,” I say pulling back. His whole body moves as he nods in acknowledgment. Peterson and I would have broken up even if he hadn’t hooked up with the sophomore and I think he knows it. His stupidity just gave me the out.
I head to the study session knowing I will be early. I’m less excited about sending my sandwich picture now. Nothing will come of it. When I reach the empty room where the study group will meet, I sit down at a table and thumb through the pictures I took. None are sexy enough, but I pick the best one and send it with the tag Hungry?
***
It’s after midnight and I’ve just checked my phone for the billionth time to make sure it hasn’t mysteriously become sentient and turned off because it knew we had a nine o’clock class tomorrow. Nope, it’s still on. I stare at the cracked plaster on the ceiling above my bed determined to just go to sleep because Liam has obviously changed his mind about me being worthy of his time. Or, maybe he just hooked up with some model he met on his way out of the studio after work. I don’t know why I expected him to call at all.
I look around my room at the blank walls, wondering why I never bothered to make the room mine. It’s been eight months since I moved in and I don’t have any pictures up except the one of Alli, Jessica, Sarah, and me from high school, which Jessica framed for everyone when we graduated. Was Peterson right about me not letting anyone in because of Chase? Or, is it really because of my mother? I wonder how different I would be if my mother hadn’t abandoned me. If someone had found her in time to save her, would I still avoid getting close to people or did her death take that from me?
Just after one the picture Liam took of him and me at the club lights up my cell’s screen. Relief washes through me because I was starting to doubt I had a texting conversation with him at all. I push the button and take a deep breath. I need to get a grip if I’m going to be able to talk. When I hear his deep, sultry voice, a completely different feeling washes over my body.
“Meg?”
I guess I’d answered without speaking.
“Who else would answer my phone? Work didn’t go well?”
“Yep. What time is it there? Did I wake you?”
“No, I was just finishing some homework.” He didn’t need to know I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about his hands on me. No matter what I did, I couldn’t push the lustful thoughts from my mind. His hands should have their own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
“Don’t talk about school. It just makes me think of you wearing a short skirt and me bending you over the teacher’s desk.”
I laugh. God, he’s hot.
“You’ve got the most beautiful laugh.”
Now I can’t wait to go to sleep. I’m sure I will be laughing in my dream as he bends me over a desk.
“When are you coming to visit Sarah again? I’ll save the date.”
“Promises, promises. It’s all empty promises from you. You’ll never act on them.”
“You didn’t enjoy our night together?”
“You know my answer, you confident bastard. I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed that night. Why did you call if you’re just going to tease me?”
“Do you want me to hang up?”
“Tease.”
Click. The phone goes dead. Oh crap! I’m not calling him back. Crap! I shouldn’t have pushed him. I toss my phone on the bed. I’m pretty sure he’ll call back. I can wait it out. Should I call him back? I pull the comforter over me as I try to convince myself to wait. I pick my phone back up and check my email. There is a notice from the University about parking restrictions, but that’s it. Finally, my phone buzzes. I let it ring a second time before answering it so I don’t seem eager.
“Stop teasing me,” I say.
“What color bra are you wearing? Is it the purple one?”
“I’m not wearing a bra.”
He’s silent for several seconds, but I know the call hasn’t disconnected because I can hear him breathing.
“And you call me a tease? Do you sleep naked?”
“No. I grew up with three brothers. What if there was a fire?”
He laughs. “How are your brothers? Hard at work at the marina?”
“Yeah. I just saw them the other day. I met my dad’s girlfriend too.” I can’t believe he remembered the marina. He’s so normal sometimes, as if he isn’t on TV at all.
“You don’t sound too enthused. Is she a crazy evangelical or a ho-ho-ho?”
I break out laughing. He said it so matter-of-factly, his words caught me off guard. “Neither. She was decent, maybe a bit leathery, but personable.”
“Leathery?”
“Like she’s been out in the sun too long—leat
hery skin.”
“Other than being leathery—and I have to point out that is pretty superficial of you—what’s wrong with her?”
I chuckle at his comment. “Nothing. She and my dad have been dating for almost two years and I just met her. And, it wasn’t because my dad kept her hidden. It was because I’ve been avoiding my family. I realize I need to put more effort in them. I’ve been doing an awful job as a daughter.”
“So you’ve been avoiding them because of your mom?”
How did he know that? “It’s probably because of my mom.” The reality of my words hit me and my breath catches. “I was the last to see her and my family blames me for her death.”
“What happened to her?”
“You don’t want to know my story. You’d rather think of me bent over the teacher’s desk.” I try to distract him.
“Come on, Meg. Give me some credit. I’m not that shallow. It seems to be bugging you. Why don’t you just tell me? If you don’t, I’ll just blabber on about myself until you know my entire life’s story”
I laugh again. He’s not afraid to share, is he? “Are you sure you want to hear all my baggage?”
“What are friends for?”
“Is that what we are, Nordstrom, friends?”
“What’s wrong with friends? I think it’s respectable. I feel as if we made a connection. You don’t consider me a friend?”
I can hear the challenge in his voice. “Since we used the politician’s definition of hookup, I guess we’re friends.” I’ve been friend zoned. Great. I wonder if that will affect my midnight fantasy Liam.
“Friends talk. Share with me, Meg.”
“Fine.” It was just the one night anyway. Why am I hesitating? “It’s not as if we will see each other again.”
“Except at the wedding.”
“Except at the wedding. Where do I start?”
He laughs, and I don’t know if it is because he agrees with my comment or if it is because I am giving in.
“Why did you say the police didn’t think your mom’s death was an accident?”
“How do you remember that?”
“It’s an odd thing to say, isn’t it? Besides, I sort of have a photographic memory. It helps with acting. I convert words into pictures in my head to remember them better and when you said that, I envisioned her either being murdered or committing suicide. Neither a pleasant sight. It stuck with me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and try to form a coherent sentence, but can’t. My silence tells him what my words don’t.
“If it is too hard to talk about, we don’t have to.” He pauses as if waiting for me to jump in and start baring my soul. After a minute of silence he says, “I can tell you what’s bothering me.”
I nod, which he can’t see, and then say, “That would be great.”
“My little brother. My dumbass little brother is stealing from me. I had five hundred bucks sitting on my dresser yesterday when he stopped over and after he left, it was gone.”
“What’s he need the money for?” I ask, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer is either gambling or drugs.
“He’s got a drug problem—designer stuff mostly. My parents cut off his money train hoping to curb his appetite, but he’s still finding a way to meet his addiction. They blame me because of my prescription drug problem last year, though his problem is completely different.”
“That sucks.” I don’t know what else to say. I’ve lived that. “Chase use to help himself to the cash in my purse, and then try to convince me this time he would pay me back. I guess I indirectly funded his habit.” I doubt he remembers though. He doesn’t seem to remember any of the bad stuff. “You should do an intervention,” I say because it’s obvious where this is leading.
“I know.” He pauses and adds, “Did it really work for your ex?” His words are optimistic while his voice conveys hopelessness. “Did he stop for good? I stopped, but I’m the exception. I know a ton of people who just seem to use rehab as a vacation they take once a year. It’s a joke, and most of the interventions I’ve heard about, didn’t work long-term.”
“Chase’s didn’t work, but he eventually came around. You’ll never know unless you try.”
“My brother is at the age where he thinks he knows everything and everyone else is an idiot.”
“If he’s eighteen, he either has to be a threat to himself or someone else in order to get him hospitalized against his will. And those are hard to prove unless he attacks someone or tries to off himself. He hasn’t tried anything like that, has he?”
“No.”
“Then the only way to get him help is to convince him to check himself in.”
“Yeah, that’s the tricky part. I told you he thinks he’s smarter than the rest of the world, right? He probably thinks I’ll blame Nak for the missing money or that I won’t even notice. My roommate would never steal from me. My brother is such a little dipshit.”
“Talk to a rehab center. I bet they would know how to approach him about getting help. I am sure they have a team of people who can put it together for you. When I did the one for Chase, it wasn’t hard setting it up. The difficult part was figuring out what I was going to say to him.”
“You must have really loved him to try to get him help and not just walk away.”
“I thought I did. He obviously didn’t love me more than the drugs.”
“I don’t do love.”
“Yeah, you just have a bunch of friends you sleep with.”
“I can’t help who I’ve become. Besides, I don’t get complaints.”
“I bet you don’t.”
“Only that they want more.” He slips into a girly falsetto voice. “Harder. Faster. Oh, right there. Oh. Oh god. Don’t stop. Ohhh…” he trails off as if spent. I hope he’s not mimicking me. Who knows what I said the night we were together? My brain was too absorbed in the moment to think beyond it.
“If you were in love, hundreds of women would go unsatisfied. What a tragedy.”
“Finally, someone who understands. I can tell we’re going to be great friends, Meg. You’re really easy to talk to. Maybe I could call every night just to relieve the tension of the day.”
“I’m not having phone sex with you.” I hope he’s joking. If not, he’s more of a pig than I thought, being this is our first call and all.
“Phone sex? I just meant talk about the problems of the day to clear our heads. Sometimes, I have a hard time getting to sleep. I don’t do phone sex. That’s a video chat thing. I want to see your beautiful lips form that perfect little O. I’d miss that without the video. Picture guy, remember?”
Oh my god. What am I doing? I don’t even know how to comment on that. Luckily, I don’t have to come up with anything because he just keeps talking.
“Meg? Really? I shocked you again. You come off as this hard ass, but you’re just a little innocent, aren’t you? If talking about phone sex makes you blush then I know things that would turn you scarlet.”
“Play on. I’m not shocked.” I finally find my words, even though they’re a lie.
“Maybe we should wait and build up to it. I always find anticipation makes the experience all the more enjoyable.” Then his voice changes from sultry to boy next door in a beat. “What did you do today?”
I pause for a second, switching gears. “I ran into an ex at the sandwich shop. It was the first time I’d seen him since he cheated on me two weeks ago.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were on the rebound when we had our non-hookup or I may have given into your whining.
Was I whining?
“And I thought nothing I said would influence your bromance with Jonathan.”
“Jon and I have a mutual respect for one another. We’ve been friends for a long time and he has helped me out of many situations. He’s low maintenance and doesn’t ask much of me, but when he does, I do all I can to accommodate.”
“Even if it’s not what you want?” I ask.
“Usu
ally.”
“So how long have you been in love with Jonathan Williams?” I ask.
He laughs. “And I was afraid you didn’t understand.”
“I get it. I do. Bros before hoes. I guess that makes me a ho.”
“You’re not a ho, Meg. You are far from a ho.” He chuckles. “We could have done what we wanted, but I wanted to respect Jon’s wishes.”
“Oh. It was you who didn’t want to hook up. What was wrong, performance anxiety?”
“Did I look as if I had performance anxiety?”
“No, but maybe it’s only when you’re on a real hookup and not a non-hookup.”
“All right. Stop talking about my junk. You’re giving me performance anxiety.”
“The truth finally comes out,” I say, and we both laugh.
We joke around for another hour and I don’t believe I’ve ever laughed so much in my life. Then, when I realize that it’s after three and I have to leave for class in less than five hours, we say our goodbyes. I could do this friends thing if it’s what he wants. I’d like more, but if that’s my only option, I could make it work, at least until Sarah’s wedding. Who knows what will come when we’re together on a tropical island for a week? Until then, I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. He’s hilarious.
Chapter 14
Liam
I PULL UP her contact on my phone and I can almost smell the sweet perfume of her shampoo. The picture of the two of us at the club messes with my head. I like hearing her voice. I never know what to expect with her, and not in the crazy girlfriend way. She’s very realistic, but still unpredictable. My hackles don’t go up with her like they do with some girls when I am in the “getting to know you” stage. No matter what I tell people, I do get to know a girl to a certain level before I bring her to my bed. I don’t need to know her middle name or anything like that, but I do need to know my reputation won’t be tarnished by a psycho smearing my name online. That’s why waking up next to Tina bothered me so badly. I knew what she was capable of saying in social media. Maybe the fact I haven’t claimed Meg the way I’ve claimed most girls I interact with gives us more to talk about. It isn’t all about sex. She’s different.
Between Friends (Between the Raindrops #3) Page 13
