by S. R. Watson
“No occasion. Just felt like doing something nice.” She downplays her little ‘I want some dick’ setup, so I let her think she’s being obtuse.
“What’s that I smell?” I take a seat next to her, and her gorgeous, enigmatic face lights up.
“Pizza,” she explains enthusiastically. “But not just any pizza. Homemade pizza.”
“So you made this pizza?” I look at her suspiciously, continuing to give her a hard time.
“You sure have a lot of questions. Yes, I made it. Homemade pizza is the best. You’ll see.” She leans over to grab the pizza from the picnic basket, and the roundness of her ass against the fabric of her dress makes me want to take a bite of something else. “I had to cut the slices into squares to fit in this baking dish after it came out of the oven. You know, to keep it warm until you guys got back. I tried to time it as close as possible to when you got home.”
“How did you know when we’d get back or that we wouldn’t stop for a bite to eat afterward?”
She pushes my shoulder. “Psssh. Mr. Inquistive, I couldn’t be sure you’d come straight back, but Lily messaged Xander to get a heads-up on when he was heading back. I just crossed my fingers you’d be with them.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I’m glad I didn’t ruin your surprise. It’s sweet, so thank you.” I sound nauseating even to myself, but I genuinely appreciate her thoughtfulness. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about how this little dinner would end. Maybe we could check off beach sex from both of our lists. I’m sure she’s never done so before now. “Pass me some of that homemade pizza, then.”
Her eyes gleam against the flickering candlelight as she watches me sink my teeth into the warm, cheesy goodness. She kept it simple, only adding pepperoni, but it’s perfect. Garlic toasted crust with just the right amount of spices means I could probably eat my weight in these slices. She passes me a glass of merlot before she grabs her own slice.
“Don’t you two look cozy,” a familiar voice cuts through our moment. When the fuck did Melissa get here? I wasn’t scheduled to pick her until tomorrow.
Lourdes straightens, guilt etched into the rise of her eyebrows. She’s not pleased with the intrusion.
“Melissa. I didn’t hear you come up. When did you get back? I thought you weren’t flying back until tomorrow.” I don’t know why the hell I’m rambling. It’s not like she walked up on us having sex. Thank God.
“Obviously,” she deadpans. “Did I interrupt some romantic rendezvous?”
The question is directed at me, but her daggers are aimed at Lourdes.
“Of course not.” Lourdes’s head snaps in my direction, but I press on—working to salvage my plans. “I saw the glow from the house, so I came down to investigate.”
“Oh, and you just happened to stumble upon this lovely setup for two, right? Lourdes was just waiting for someone to come out to join her.”
“First of all—” Lourdes begins, but I cut her off quickly. This will only escalate if I don’t stop her, and my plan to find out what Melissa is up to will be ruined.
“Lourdes had a date tonight, but the douche didn’t show. She had plans to meet some dude she’d been talking to on Cupid Match. This wasn’t for me. I just thought it’d be a shame to let the pizza go to waste.”
Lourdes looks away from us and my overt manipulation of the truth. Melissa smirks, unconvinced, but decides to let it be.
“I agree. It would be such a shame.” She takes a seat in front of Lourdes and me, grabbing the wine glass from my clutches. “Sorry to hear about your date girl, but hey … his loss, right? I mean, look at all you’ve done for a first date. Hell, what would you have in your bag of tricks for a second date?”
Lourdes takes a sip of her own wine, but I don’t miss her subtle flinch. Guilt swirls in my gut. She doesn’t deserve this. I totally dismissed her, and then Melissa added a crushing blow by joining us and her jab.
“It’s fine. Maybe I dodged a bullet. Some people may not be worth the effort, so when they show you who they are, it’s best to believe them the first time.”
Her gaze pierces mine as she gulps the rest of her wine. She stands, dusting the sand that has accumulated on her dress.
“Where are you going? Don’t let me run you off. This is your setup, after all. I’m just joining my guy here.”
“Melissa, stop,” I snarl.
“Oh dear, you’re not running me off. Like Diesel explained, he just happened to come out here to see what the glow was. Now that you’ve joined your guy, just thought I’d keep this lovely setup from going to waste.” She leans down and places the pizza between us. “Enjoy.”
She walks away, and I have an overwhelming urge to go after her. Fuck. I look back at a smiling Melissa—devious and contrived.
“I don’t know what the real story is here, but I know that wasn’t it. Her spirits were too broken for the truth to be anywhere near this scenario.”
“You don’t fucking get to question me. This is not an inquisition. You’re not in a place to even be jealous if this was more. You fucked up and have a ways to go to make things right. I don’t have to appease you with lies.”
This is only partly true. I have every motivation to feed her lies. I need to keep her threats at bay and unravel her motives. Keep your enemies close and all that.
“Whatever. You don’t have to keep reminding me that I need to fix what I destroyed. I made a mistake, one that I deeply regret, but that girl wants you. I know what it looks like because I feel the same. She can’t have you. I will do whatever it takes to make things right again.” She blows out a frustrated breath. “If what you say is the truth, then she’s lying. There was never a date with a guy from Cupid Match. No sane person goes through this much trouble for some random stranger they’ve yet to meet. You meet at a public place to see if that person is even worth a second date. I call bullshit. This setup was intended for you.”
She grabs a slice of pizza and sips on the wine she took from me. “The pizza is good, though. Nice try on her part. Glad I came back early.”
It takes everything in me not to snatch the pizza from her—the pizza, by her own admission, made for me.
“Why did you come back early?” I have to school my features so that I don’t show my annoyance and concern for Lourdes.
“My mom has a little flair for the dramatics. She had to get her gallbladder removed laparoscopically and insisted I be there in case she didn’t make it out of surgery. The procedure is pretty routine, but her Wikipedia and Google searches turned her into a basket case.” I have no idea what half the shit is that she’s spewing. The call came from her father, not her mother. She has no idea that I know. She continues with her lies, and I pretend to listen intently. “Of course, everything went fine, and they discharged her later that day at her insistence. She wanted to get as far away from the hospital as possible, happy to have escaped the many complications from her search.”
“Well, I’m glad your mom is fine. Just know that you can’t be all accusatory. I’m not your guy. I’m giving you more leeway than I probably should. My brother couldn’t even stand to stick around. His disappearance is his disapproval, so don’t try to take advantage of my kindness. See the situation for what it is—a fucking third chance.”
She nods her understanding. I gave her the scenario she needed to hear—a real reason that I’m allowing her to stay. Tonight’s cluster fuck has been saved, at least from her perspective. Now I need to fix things with Lourdes. I said I was going to set things back on course tomorrow, but I can’t leave things this way. I know my dismissal of her tonight hurt. I stand and start packing everything up.
“What are you doing?” Melissa asks, confused.
I refuse to have a romantic evening with her and make a mockery out of Lourdes’s intent. “You were wrong,” I start. “Lourdes did have a date tonight, and I wasn’t a very good friend. I let your jealousy and accusations distract me from doing the right thing.”
“Which is?
” She crosses her arms, a pout forming on her lips.
“Be a friend that she expected me to be. She was a friend long before you came back around. She and Lily both are. She is the kind person who would show this much kindness to a stranger, and she didn’t deserve your digs.” I continue packing up everything as she stands and tries to hold on to me. “I’m going to go find her and apologize.”
“I’ll go with you,” she suggests. “Apologize for my jealous behavior.”
“It won’t be received the same. I’m the one who’s supposed to be her friend—not you. You can apologize on your own, so it’s more genuine.”
She’s not happy with my suggestion, but she knows better than to keep pushing. I tweaked the truth, but it was there all the same. Above all else, I failed to be a friend. That dismissal was necessary, but I don’t know how I’m going to explain around that. All I know is that I have to try.
The reddish-orange hues of the evening sky have long faded, replaced with twinkling stars lighting up the night. I inhale the fresh air, letting my feet roam where they may. I’ve always been a fan of walks to clear my mind. The song of the crickets and swaying trees are a welcome sound to my solitude. I don’t want to think of the mind fuck I just left back there. I knew standing by Diesel’s side would be no easy task, but the sucker punch was just as numbing. There is no other way to see it than he took her side. At that moment of decision, her feelings were the ones worth sparing. I question what the fuck I’m trying for. What is my loyalty really worth if it goes unnoticed—unappreciated.
I insert the earbuds that I snagged from the house before I left. Xander and Lily were so immersed into The Notebook, they barely acknowledged my presence. I’m ambivalent. I both envy and am equally happy for what they have. It’s such a beautiful thing when the feelings are mutual.
I hate these depressing thoughts eating away at my sanity. I turn the volume up when I hear Billy Idol’s “Eyes Without a Face.” I hum along, desperate to drown out anything unrelated to the melody. The roads are surprisingly quiet. Most of the rentals are some distance from our private one, giving me some indication of how far I’ve walked. The beach homes I’m surrounded by are not as exorbitant as the one we’re staying in but still amazing to look at. Still, there aren’t many people out even though it’s still fairly early. I take a few corners, enjoying my tour of beach homes.
A loud rumble above the sound of my music has me turning to see where the noise is coming from. A motorcycle nears, and I move closer to the lean of one of the houses to make sure I’m out of the way. Only when the rider slows and comes to a rolling stop next to me do I freeze—realizing the rider is Diesel.
He pulls the helmet off and runs a single hand through his hair. His face contorted in dissatisfaction.
“I’ve combed nearly this entire damn neighborhood looking for you,” he growls.
“Well, as you can see, I’m fine. I’m taking an evening stroll.” I give him my best fuck off stare before continuing. “You know, just trying to forget about the date who stood me up.”
Something passes over his stupidly handsome features, but it’s gone as quick as it appeared.
“I’m sorry about that,” he relents. “That’s why I came to find you. That is, until I found out that you left the house in the dark. Alone. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I wanted to take a walk. And that I didn’t answer to anyone, so I could do what the hell I wanna do.”
I watch as he flexes his fists, reeling in his control instead of saying what’s on his mind.
“Listen. I get that you’re not happy with me at the moment. Don’t put yourself in danger to spite me.”
“I’m a grown ass woman who is not afraid of the dark. I’ll take a walk anytime I want.” I know that I’m egging him on, but it makes me feel better, so I’ll egg away. He doesn’t get to have it both ways. He can’t dismiss me and then expect me to give what he wants any kind of consideration.
“A grown woman, huh? Well, fucking act like it. Stop putting yourself in these unnecessary situations. You’re not invincible!”
“Whatever.” He’s fuming now if that clench of his jaw is any indication, but so am I. He hurt me tonight, and I feel like being petty. I know how he regards control, and I refuse to give it to him.
“What the actual fuck? Do you want to get raped or something?”
The blood freezes in my veins. “It wouldn’t be the fucking first …” I stop mid-sentence, realizing I’ve already admitted too much.
He is off his bike in a nanosecond. I try to storm off, but he catches up to me and spins me around with such force that I almost stumble.
“What the hell did you just say?”
I try to walk away again, but he grabs my arm. His grip act as a warning.
“Nothing. Why don’t you go back to Melissa before you have to invent another lie to explain your disappearance?”
“I don’t give two shits about Melissa at the moment—”
“But you do care about her,” I taunt, cutting him off.
“You’re not going to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Change the damn subject. What were you going to say, Lourdes? That it wouldn’t be the first fucking time? Tell me that’s not what the hell you were going to say!”
“That’s not what I was going to say,” I deadpan.
He scrubs his face with his hands. “The all black, the introversion, the fucking brokenness when I first met you. I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots before now.”
“I have no idea what you’re going on about, but I’m growing bored with this conversation.”
His eyes look through me. Sadness reflects at me mixed with pity and regret. I hate that combo. This is why I keep my fucked-up past to myself. I survived. I don’t want to ever feel like that again—helpless.
“Don’t do that, baby. Don’t deflect.”
He loosens his grip on my arm to pull me into his embrace. His cologne intoxicates me, makes me feel safe—like he’s home. Only he’s not. He’s Melissa’s home at the moment. I don’t want him like this … out of pity. I wiggle away from him and wipe the stupid tears that manage to fall. His face crumples, but he lets me go.
“You’re wrong,” I assure. “I was going to say, it wouldn’t be the first time a woman was raped. I know the risks, but they’re minimal out here. Look around. See how quiet it is?”
I sniffle, and he flinches.
“Then why are you crying?” he asks, unfooled.
“Because …” I pause. “You’re only here out of some misplaced need to apologize. Your cards were shown tonight—your hand revealed. And guess who has the trump card? Melissa. You had a choice to make on whose feelings to spare, and you chose her. Now I have to come to terms with the position that I hold. A nobody.”
The tears fall freely. Even though the words that rolled off my tongue were meant to be a diversion, I felt every syllable. My heart bleeds with this admission. The thoughts that I tried to push out of my mind when I started this walk have just exposed themselves.
“You know that’s not true. I’m not out here out of some misplaced need to apologize. I do owe you an apology. I failed to be a better friend. I should have handled the intrusion by Melissa better.”
“A friend, huh? And there it is.”
“There what is?”
“My demotion.”
“Stop, please.”
“Considered it done. I’m stopping.”
My heart ricochets against my ribs, splintering into pieces with that dubious admission. He must feel it too.
“Don’t give up on me, Lourdes.” He blows out a cleansing breath and modifies his request. “Don’t give up on our friendship.”
There is so much I can say, but sometimes, you have to know when to fold your losing hand.
“Sure thing. Look, I’m going to head back. I’ll see you later.”
“I’m not letting you walk alone,” he insists. I start headin
g back the way I came. “Can you get on the bike?”
“I can’t make you head back without me, but I’m not getting on that bike. I want to walk, so that’s what I’m going to do. See how that works both ways?”
“I’m not going to argue with you over this.”
“Suit yourself.”
He grabs his motorcycle as I walk past him. He pushes it alongside me in silence. He looks absolutely ridiculous, yet the effort is noted. I only wonder if it’s a day late and a dollar short.
We arrive back at the house in no time. I just need to get to my room. His presence is like a heavy cloak, suffocating and unwavering. He parks his bike next to the house as I all but sprint up to my room. I throw on a tank and sleep shorts just prior to Melissa entering unannounced. I know this can’t be good. I look around her to see if Diesel is coming in with her.
“He’s downstairs,” she says as she closes the door, answering my unasked question.
“What do you want?” Fuck pleasantries. She isn’t here for anything good.
“He denies you, you know? He doesn’t claim you or any past romantic involvements with you.”
“Again,” I say more forcefully, “what do you want?”
“It doesn’t matter. I know the signs. You want him. Somewhere along the line, he gave you false hope. He thinks of you as friend, but you see him as more. Buying your time. Closing in with false stories of stood up blind dates. You totally have the hots for him.”
This clueless bitch couldn’t be any further from the truth. I smirk.
“I guess you have it all figured out then.”
At this point, I’m just trying to push her buttons. She obviously came up here to push mine. I could fuck her whole world by spilling what we were up to in the bed she sleeps in with him—since clearly my wanting him is one-sided.
“More than you know. But guess what. Our history runs deeper than anything you can imagine. The things we’ve explored together would blow your little vanilla mind. It takes a certain type of woman to even keep his attention, and I’m the only woman who’s ever wrecked him by leaving him. What does that tell you?
