Shaking her head, she sighs and shoves me away from her. “You’re annoying, you know that right?”
“And you’re short,” I smile. “Which is why I call you titch.”
Her brown eyes narrow. “I always hated that.”
“At first, but you started to like it.” I grab the remote. “You got Netflix?”
“No.” She snatches the remote from my hand. “And you just thought I liked it.”
“Your memory has gone to shit.” I stand up and make my way to the entertainment center on the far wall. “I vividly recall the first time I called you ‘babe.’ You snarled and said you didn’t like it.”
“I didn’t.”
“You said it was weird.”
“It was.”
I turn around and smile at her. “You said you liked being my titch.”
A slight smile shapes her lips, and I can see a tiny piece of her wall break down. “I said a lot of things to you, Tyler.”
Spinning back around, I scan over the DVDs. “What the…” I grab Never Say Never and laugh as I turn to hold it up to her. “What the fuck is this, Jemma. Justin Bieber? What happened to the girl who liked Slipknot and Lincoln Park?”
“That’s Heather’s. She has a thing for him. I don’t know.”
“Sure.” I put the movie down. “Hmm, none of my movies I see.”
“Really?”
“Too soon?” I laugh, stopping when my eyes land on one specific title. “You…” I snag the DVD of Howard the Duck, pop it open, and walk to the TV. I press open and slip the disc into the DVD player before making my way back to the couch.
“If you just put Bieber in, I’ll choke you.”
“No, just wait. It’s way worse than the Biebs.”
“You did not just call him the Biebs.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “I did.”
The old-school Universal emblem comes across the screen, and I smile.
“What did you put in,” she asks.
“Stubborn and impatient…”
Seconds later the theme music starts, and the title flips across the screen. She’s smiling. Really big.
“God,” she laughs and flops back against the couch. “I haven’t watched this movie in ages.”
“Yeah, me either.”
This movie is shit. It’s awful, but for whatever reason we used to watch it over and over when we were kids. We both sit, staring at the screen and there’s this nervous energy, just like there used to be between us when we both got to the age where we realized boys and girls could do a lot more than be friends. I remember that moment, and the thing is, it was when we were watching this very fucking film. We were in her basement, sitting on the couch like we always had every other time we’d watched this horrible film, but, this time, every few minutes, I’d scoot a little bit closer to her. A little closer. And closer—until our legs were touching.
I glance over at her and this feeling—like I said, she feels like home…
Halfway through the movie, my hand is on her thigh and she’s stiff as shit. “Want me to move my hand?” I ask.
Before she can answer, the lock clicks and her roommate walks in. The second her eyes land on me, she scowls. “What the…”
I stand up and stretch. “Just leaving,” I say, glancing back at Jemma. “Thanks for letting me take a piss.”
She smiles. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Sure thing. See you later.”
Her roommate shoots me an evil glare as I move toward the door so I wink at her. I shut the door behind me and drag in a deep breath. This is a start.
“Another martini?” the bartender asks as he reaches for my empty glass. My head is already swimming,
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, come on, titch. Have another,” Tyler says.
I glance around Tyler. Benson’s leaned against the counter, chatting up some really young girl. Vee’s on the dancefloor with Brandi—this is just a few coworkers going out for Happy Hour. That’s it. I’m still not exactly sure how he talked me into this, but what this is not—it is not a date.
A petite brunette squeezes between Tyler and Benson. I watch her gaze drift between the two of them. “Oh, wow!” She says, a deep smile setting her face. “I know you two.”
“Oh, really?” Benson says, smiling like a pervert.
“Yeah. Benson Long and,” she bites down on her lip as she coyly bats her fake eyelashes at Tyler, “And Mr. Johnny Depth.”
Tyler rubs his hand over the back of his neck and Benson throws his hands in the air. “Mr.? He gets the mister?”
She giggles. “You guys do some amazing work.”
Unaware that I am doing it, I roll my eyes. I turn to face the bar and flag down the bartender. Grinning, he leans over the bar. “Change your mind, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think another martini would be good.”
He nods and grabs the mixer. The brunette is smiling at Tyler, swaying from side to side and giving him some serious fuck-me eyes. Benson says something to her, and she giggles. It’s this high pitch, hyena sounding noise. She places her hand on Tyler’s arm, feeling over his muscles—still giggling. I roll my eyes again because I’m evidently thirteen. I turn back to the bar and it’s while I’m staring at the illuminated bottles of liquor, I realize she recognized them—as porn stars. And I am with said porn stars. People recognize them, then they see me with them. Oh, fucking great! The bartender slides my drink in front of me and just as I’m taking my first sip, I feel fingers skim along the small of my back.
“I thought you said you didn’t want another drink?”
I turn around to find Tyler smirking.
“I changed my mind.” Taking another gulp, I shrug. The girl is staring at us while Benson attempts to sweet-talk her.
“Told her you were my girlfriend,” Tyler says, grabbing my martini and taking a drink.
“What? Why?”
Laughing, he grins. “Well, one, because it annoys you. Two, she’s like a grown-up version of Ellen Frampton.”
A short-lived giggle floats from my mouth as I watch her. “God, she is. I hated Ellen Frampton.”
“I know. I liked that you hated her.”
I narrow my gaze at him.
“I did,” he says. “You were always so jealous, titch.”
“No, she used to get naked in front of her window for you. It was disgusting.”
“Oh, and you didn’t do the same thing?” He laughs.
“No, you fucking pervert.”
“That’s a lie. I beat off several times to you prancing around in front of your window naked when we were teenagers.”
I shake my head. “That’s fucked up.”
He cocks a brow. “It is what it is,” he says, taking my martini to have another sip.
“There’s an entire bar behind you.” I grab the drink from his hand. “Order your own martini.”
He drops his chin to his chest, laughing before he glances back up from his lowered head. “It’s so fun to piss you off. I almost forgot how much fun it was.”
“You’re such an ass.”
“I’m an ass, you’re jealous.”
“Fuck you.”
“I appreciate the propositions, but really, they are inappropriate.”
“You’re inappropriate.”
“Your face is inappropriate.”
Glaring at him, I groan. “Your two-inch dick is inappropriate.”
He throws his head back laughing. “Your one-inch mouth is inappropriate.”
The man next to us shoots an annoyed look in our direction. I dump the rest of my drink into my mouth and swallow, trying not to laugh because we are so juvenile.
Tyler leans up against the bar and grabs me by the waist, nodding toward the brunette. “But what is really inappropriate is that you are jealous of that girl.”
I attempt to pull away from him. “I hate you.”
“Oh, come on now. Just pretend you like me so I don’t look like a liar.”
“Well, you are. We’re how old, Tyler? Have your balls not dropped enough for you tell the girl you’re not interested?”
His eyes narrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “This is more fun.” His fingers dig deeper into my waist, and now we’re staring at each other. My heart’s slamming against my chest. One hand skims along my side. Tyler bites down on his lip as he pushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “This is how it’s supposed to be with us.” He cups the back of my head in his hand. “Push and pull. You know that, titch.”
Part of me knows he’s right. As much as I want to pretend, time did nothing to make me love him less. I watch his eyes slowly flick down to my lips, and I catch his Adam’s apple move as he swallows. The hustle and bustle of the bar around us fades into a faint hum. All I can focus on right now is him. On us. On how fucked up this is.
His fingers twist in my hair as he inches his face toward mine. “I pull….” His mouth is right in front of mine. I can feel their warmth. “You push,” he says, his lips so close to my mouth I can taste his words.
I know better than this. I do. The thing about Tyler is, I’ve always known better, but he has a magnetic pull that just won’t let me get away. He gently rubs his thumb over my jaw, and it’s like that motion forces my eyes to shut. His full bottom lip rolls over mine, and my body goes limp in his hold. “You gonna push, titch?” he whispers before releasing me from his grip.
My eyes fly open, my heart pounding in the back of my throat, and that fucker is smiling from ear to ear.
“Hey, Johnny,” Benson calls as he shoulders his way through the crowded bar area, the brunette clutching to his arm. “We’re gonna go over to the Lotus Club. Wanna come?”
“Nah. I think we’ll just head home.”
Grinning, Benson’s gaze swings over to me. “Okay.”
Brandi and Vee are right behind him now. “You’re not gonna come?” Brandi whines. “Oh, come on, Johnny. Please.”
“No, just wanna go home.”
She pouts before turning around and following the rest of our group out of the door. And now it’s just him and me. No coworkers. And all I can think about is kissing him.
We stumble toward the curb, both shitfaced, and I hold my arm up to hail a cab. Jemma walks a few feet away from me and does the same thing.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“What does it look like? Trying to hail a cab.”
“Well, that’s what I’m doing.”
“Congratulations.”
A cab whizzes past both of us. “Would you fucking get over here?”
“Why?”
“It’s not a contest.”
“I know, but you see, we are going to two different places. Hence, we need two different cabs.”
Groaning, I drop my hand and walk toward her. “You know I’m not gonna let you take a cab by yourself.”
“Jesus Christ, Tyler. I’m not going to get murdered in a fucking cab.”
“I know because you aren’t riding by yourself.”
She sighs, dropping her hand and crossing her arms over her chest. “You are so fucking annoying.”
“Thank you.”
I can feel her glaring at me when the cab pulls up to the curb. I open the door and hold it for her before sliding in behind her.
“I’m not going to your house.”
“That’s fine.”
“One ten south west,” she says as she buckles her seatbelt. “And,” she glances up at me. “You are not coming inside my house. Not even to piss.”
I hold my hands up. “That’s fine.”
The car drives off. We sit in silence for the first few minutes, then she starts laughing.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head, trying to contain her laughter. “It’s just…my life.”
“What?” I wrinkle my brow.
“My life—it’s fucking hilarious.”
“Really? Drunk epiphany?”
“Yeah. I get a part on a kid’s show. A part I hated by the way. I start dating this rocker, end up getting fired because of dating him—”
“Good video by the way.” I wink.
“Oh, fuck off.” She swats at me, but misses. “Have you Googled your name lately? At least mine was real and not full of cheesy lines. ‘Take it,’” she deepens her voice in an attempt to sound like a man. “Take my massive cock.” She laughs. “Oh,” now she’s adopted this high-pitched, breathy tone to her voice. “Oh, Johnny. Go Deeper, Johnny Depth. Plunder my booty Captain Jack Spermo.” She has to stop because she’s giggling so hard she can’t catch a good breath.
“Oh, so I see you’ve been watching my videos. A closet fan, are we?”
“Oh, it’s comedy relief for me.”
I glare at her.
“Anyway. The fact that I was out, in a bar, with a herd of porn stars and people actually came up and recognized you.” She shakes her head. “Unbelievable. Oh, and let’s not forget, you are my ex. Fucking x-rated. Oh, this shit is ex-rated, alright.”
“And now who is using cheesy lines?” I chuckle.
She pulls in a few breathes before tossing her head against the back of the seat. “Life is weird, huh?”
“Yeah. It is.”
We sit in silence for a few moments. I stare at her, watching the street lights bounce off her high cheekbones. Jemma is stunning, and those obvious things, the beautiful things anyone in their right fucking mind couldn’t miss, of course, I love those, but it’s the other things, her little quirks, her flaws that make her who she—that’s what I can’t get over. There is something so deeply woven into her that I find irresistible. It’s the way she snorts when she fucking laughs. The way her eye twitches when she gets angry. That scar on her knee from where she fell off her bike when we were kids. Her confidence and insecurities. The way she makes me feel like nothing else in this world matters but her.
Any girl can be pretty. Any girl can be sweet. But only Jemma can be Jemma.
“I regret it,” I blurt out without realizing it.
“What?” She looks at me. “You regret what?”
“The past four years.”
A soft smile tugs at her lips. Her gaze drops to her lap, and she begins fiddling with her purse.
“All those years…” I pause because I’m drunk. She’s drunk. And drunk confessions can lead to some awkward moments once everyone’s sobered up, but I don’t fucking care. I just want to tell her. “All of those years of growing up together, I never missed anything, and now, I feel like I’ve missed everything because I have.”
She doesn’t look up and for a moment I worry it was too much. “Tyler,” she exhales. “People grow up. They drift apart.”
“People do. We shouldn’t have though.”
“What do you think would have happened had we stayed together?”
I shrug. “Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t be Johnny Depth.”
She smiles and God, I want to fucking slam my mouth over hers right now. When the car rattles over a speed bump, I realize we’ve pulled up in front of her apartments. The brakes squeak as the cab rolls to a stop.
She reaches for the door. I want to grab her and pin her down on the seat. I want to make her feel what she does to me. I want to show her why we shouldn’t have drifted apart. I want to fuck myself so deep inside of her that she can’t shake me from her thoughts.
She pushes the door open. “Goodnight. Thanks for making sure I didn’t get murdered.” She laughs as she closes the door.
I am just as fucked as I was all those years ago when I was a zit-faced kid trying to figure out how to make her date me. Except this time, it’s a clusterfuck.
I shut the door behind me—softly, but Heather still hears it and sits bolt upright on the couch.
“Wha the fu…” She rubs her eyes and glares at me before looking at her phone. “One forty-five? You fucked him, didn’t you?” She tosses the throw off her lap.
“No.”
“Do not fuck the porn star!�
�
“What the hell, Heather. I’m not.”
She’s rubbing her eyes again. “You want to…”
“No…” I say, tossing my purse on the floor. “I don’t.” I just lied because I do, I so do, and I fucking hate it. The thing is, yes, I’m smarter than that. He fucks women for money. It’s gross if you really, really think about it—but then if you don’t really, really think about it, if I didn’t know him—it would be just a little hot.
“Well, I’d want to fuck him…” She stands up and stretches. “I think this is a terrible, horrible, no good idea.”
“Of course you do.”
“I do.” She stumbles toward the hall. “You loved him—”
“Loved!” I stress. “LOVED him. Past tense. Not present tense.”
Heather snorts. “Um-hmm. Loved him. Fucked him. What the hell ever, Jemma. I know more about him than I do that guy you dated for a year… hell…” she tosses her hands in the air. “What was his name? Dale or some shit?”
I shake my head. “Try Tristan.”
“Fuck.” Her eyes narrow. “Really, Tristin? That sounds like something my mee-maw would call her one-eyed Pomeranian—anyway, I know more about Tyler than I do that fuckface. You cannot be friends with an ex. An ex that does porn. An ex that you watch fuck other girls. An ex that tongue fucks a pussy like Captain Ahab trying to spear Moby-fucking-dick.”
I glare at her. “I hate you right now.”
She steps close to me and glares. “You smell like a guy.”
“I rode home with him. In a cab.”
“Road head?”
“What the—no. I did not give him road head in the back of a fucking cab so the grungy looking cabbie can jerk one off while driving down the road.”
She laughs. “That would make a good porn. Suggest that to your boss and see if you can get a royalty cut.”
“Oh, God. Maybe you should go into directing porn.”
“Maybe.” She laughs. “Where did you guys go anyway?”
“To a bar.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrows her eyes. “To a bar?”
“Yeah, with some people from work. It’s not a big deal.”
“Jemma, I’m just saying, this is bad. Like super bad. You are gonna get hurt.” I walk to the hallway, and she follows me. “Hurt I say. I love you. I don’t want you hurt because then I’ll kill a motherfucker and orange is not the new black on this ass.”
Exrated Page 11
