No one clapped when he finished and I felt bad for him. Two girls came up next and sang some country song I didn’t recognize. They weren’t as bad as the last guy but they still sucked. Jeesh, this was becoming painful.
Nobody at our table was paying a bit of attention as the acts filed up one after another. They continued to chat amongst themselves and get more and more drunk. I was completely confused. I thought this is why they had chosen to come here.
I was about to ask what the deal was when Jordan got to his feet, put two forefingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle. Mitch and Cole joined him in a riot of cheering. Maysie was beaming as she got to her feet to clap.
I watched as someone made their way to the stage with a guitar case in hand.
I should have freaking known.
Garrett set the case down on the stage and slowly and purposefully unhooked the latches to open the top. He pulled out the well-worn Taylor acoustic I recognized as the one he played at his house. His hand smoothed down the fret board lovingly as though this inanimate object meant more to him than anything else.
He hooked the guitar strap around his neck and under his arm before sitting on the stool and resting the instrument in his lap. He blew out a breath to move his blond hair out of his eyes. He put a pick between his teeth as he began to turn the tuning pegs.
“Playing without backup this evening?” I asked Mitch dryly, trying like crazy to disguise the uncomfortable thudding of my heart at seeing Garrett on the stage by himself and strangely vulnerable. He looked so much like that other Garrett from weeks ago. The one I had found so compelling.
Mitch’s eyes slid to me as he tried to assess whether I was being a bitch or not. It was an understandable confusion considering most of the time I was being just that. “He’s been playing here every month for years. He was doing it awhile before the rest of us figured out where he was disappearing to,” Cole piped up, answering my question.
Gracie clapped her hands and looked as though she were about to swoon as she watched Garrett tune his guitar. “Isn’t he amazing? Seriously Riley, he’s so awesome!” she remarked, patting my arm a little harder than she probably meant to in her zealousness.
“Wow, when did you become Garrett Bellows’ number one fan?” I asked sarcastically. Gracie was too drunk to notice how irritated I sounded, though my overly astute roommate picked up on it instantly and gave me a funny look.
“I just think he’s so freaking sexy. I mean look at him,” Gracie said breathlessly. She leaned in close and said in a loud whisper in an effort to be discreet and failing miserably. “I’ve been trying to get him between my legs for months. And I plan to seal the deal tonight.”
Ugh. I felt sick all over again. Though I had the consolation of knowing that Gracie and Garrett hadn’t slept together…yet. Though the exact reason I was pleased by that knowledge was a bit unclear in my deep pit of denial.
“I think the only thing you’ll be doing tonight is passing out and hoping you don’t choke on your own vomit,” I bit out angrily. Gracie giggled as though I had just made the funniest joke ever.
The soft strains of music caught my attention as Garrett began to strum a few chords. He pushed his hair back from his face and looked out into the crowd, finding our table and giving his friends a big grin. His smile lit up his face and made my breath catch in my throat. He pointed at his bandmates and made some gesture with his hand that the other three imitated, followed by a fresh round of yelling and cheering.
Without an introduction, Garrett began to play a song. It took me awhile to recognize it. Huh, he was playing an unplugged version of Soundgarden’s Black Hole Sun. And damned if his voice didn’t give Chris Cornell a run for his money. Garrett’s voice was melodic and pleasing to the ear with a slight rasp that gave his singing a raw edge. Why in the hell had Cole become the lead singer when Garrett had a voice like that?
After he finished that song he launched into an up tempo rendition of Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb. It was weird but oddly catchy. I found my leg bobbing up and down in time to the music. I looked around the bar and saw that aside from our table, no one else seemed as entranced with the set as I was. Conversation carried on in spite of Garrett’s supreme talent. People were so freaking rude.
Garrett ended the Pink Floyd song with a screech along the strings and then promptly jumped into a new set of chords that melded in with harmonics beautifully. I remembered the gentle melody all too well. It was the same tune he had played for me before. Back all those weeks ago when I stupidly thought there might be more to him than I had originally thought.
Then he opened his mouth and began to sing. And I forgot to be bitter. I forgot to be annoyed about seeing him with Gracie. All I could think; all I could feel was complete and total awe.
I hadn’t expected it
I thought you were a joke.
Your whispered words
Wrapped around my throat.
I hated that I loved it
The way you reached inside
Clawing through the wreckage
And the pieces that have died.
You don’t even know it,
You’re blind to what you see
The disillusioned lies
Bleeding out of me.
Quiet slumbers before the storm
Violent eyes, passionate cries,
Resisting and tormenting wanting more.
There is no beginning without an end,
No tomorrow, no future,
losing it all again.
Our story is a nightmare,
Written in stone,
Nothing can change it,
I’ll still be alone.
You want me to need you.
You’ll be waiting awhile,
Piercing my world
with the ice of your smile.
Your touch is toxic
Your heart’s a mess
Which is why you’ll always be
My perfect regret.
My perfect regret.
Regret…
Garrett’s voice faded into a soft hum as he strummed his guitar in a complicated dance along the strings. His song gave me chills. Seriously, I had goose bumps on my arms. The hair was literally standing up on the back of my neck.
When Garrett had finished, Cole let out a whistle. “Damn, that was a new one. Good shit,” he said, getting to his feet with the empty pitcher. I swallowed thickly, wondering, perhaps a bit vainly, whether I had been the muse of that particular song. The words rang a little too close to home for my liking.
Garrett played a few more covers and one more original song. When he was finished, our table erupted in applause and I clapped along with them. Garrett put his guitar back in the case and walked over to our group. Jordan clapped him on the back and Maysie gave him a hug.
Gracie tried to get to her feet, finally succeeding after much effort. “Garrett!” she squealed and practically fell on him as she attempted to wrap her arms around him. He laughed and helped her back into her seat.
“A little too much to drink again, huh, G?” he said with an obvious affection that annoyed the shit out of me. G? Garrett called her G? His use of my nickname for her bugged me more than it should. He accepted praise from the rest of his friends and purposefully ignored me the entire time. Okay, so this is how it was going to be obviously. How quickly the two of us fell back into our comfortable pattern of loathing and disdain for one another.
Garrett sat down across from me and Cole poured him a beer, which he accepted with a thanks before finishing it in one gulp. Vivian gave him a one armed hug, which he returned easily. I was the only one with my awkward hat on, feeling all kinds of socially dysfunctional.
“Good job,” I finally interjected because I couldn’
t stand the thick layers of discomfort a moment longer. It wasn’t Garrett’s discomfort. It was clear he couldn’t give a shit whether I was here or not. The discomfort was mine alone and I thought I was going to gag on it.
Garrett looked at me over the rim of his mug as he took a drink of beer number two. His blond eyebrow arched as he set the glass down on the table. I gave him a weak impression of a smile. “Really, that was great. I wish you guys played that kind of music all the time. I might actually start to enjoy your shows,” I said, hoping my lack of composure could be hidden by a hefty dose of sarcasm.
Garrett didn’t respond, he only stared at me, his face void of all emotion. No verbal joisting. No snappy comeback. No barely laced annoyance. Just a big heap of nothing. And that bugged me…a lot.
I was starting to hate the lack of anything resembling an expression on his face.
Mitch took pity on the gaping sea of disquiet brewing between his bandmate and me and rustled my hair. “No way, Riley. We have an image as hardcore bad asses to protect,” he said and I smiled at him in appreciation. A silent thank you for rescuing me from Garrett’s icy attack of silence.
“Of course, can’t forget about the all important bad assery,” I agreed, my eyes flicking back to Garrett who had turned away from me. Like I wasn’t even there.
“I really dug that Perfect Regret song, dude. Is that new?” Jordan asked Garrett, who gave him a shy smile. See, there it was again! That lovely, unguarded side of Garrett that I wanted to wrap in a blanket and cuddle to death.
“Yeah, it’s new. I’ve been messing around with the chords for a while. But I just wrote the lyrics a few weeks ago,” Garrett told Jordan, his eyes flickering to me briefly before sliding away.
Ha! I knew it! That damn song was totally about me! Wait a second. I thought back over the lyrics and started to feel more than a little pissed off. Because as far as songs go, that one wasn’t the most flattering he could write. In fact, it sounded more like a great big musical kiss off.
Well, forget him!
The truth was Garrett and I had never gotten along. But at least before our disastrous tumble in the sheets and subsequent almost romantic moment we had been able to coexist. Even if that meant it was the acknowledgement of one another through a series of barbs and insults.
The frosty snubs and hateful songs weren’t something I was okay with. It made me feel as though I had done something wrong. And I didn’t like questioning my choices on any level. I had done enough of that recently, I sure as hell wasn’t willing to start again over Garrett.
So I spoke to everyone but Garrett. And Garrett looked at everyone but me. The effort to pretend that there wasn’t this gigantic elephant in the room was exhausting. I knew by around midnight that I was done. I needed to go home and regroup. Mostly I just needed to sleep and wake up feeling like Riley Walker again.
I knew Maysie wasn’t ready to leave. She was most likely going back to Garrett and Jordan’s. I patted my jeans pockets and realized I must have left my cellphone in Jordan’s truck. “Hey Jordan, can I have the keys. I left my phone on the seat,” I asked. Jordan tossed me his keys and I hurried out of the bar.
Once I had my phone, I started looking up numbers for local cab companies. The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel made me look up. Garrett was headed toward me with his guitar case in hand. He stopped several feet in front of me and dropped the case to the ground. Shoving his hands into his jeans pocket he regarded me levelly.
“Guess you’re headed home,” he stated.
Wow, he was talking to me. What had I done to deserve such a privilege?
I continued to scroll through the taxicab listings, ignoring Garrett just as I had been ignored all evening. Hey, maturity is over rated.
“Cat got your tongue?” Garrett asked, his words sharp enough to cut.
I looked up at him, my mouth curling in sardonic disdain. “Oh I’m sorry, you’re right, ignoring someone is extremely rude.”
Garrett snorted and then gave me the sort of feral grin that was more a baring of teeth than anything else. “You just have to bust my balls, don’t you? Is it so hard to be pleasant?” he asked harshly. The veins on the side of his neck were bulging and I could tell he was pissed.
“And you just have to be an annoying assmunch, don’t you? Why do I get the feeling I’m being punished for something? If I’ve upset your sad excuse for male pride, please let me know,” I said just as hatefully.
Garrett took a step forward and I moved back, pressing myself into Jordan’s truck door. “If I wanted to punish you, Riley, I’d put you over my knee and spank the shit out of you. A red ass is the least of what you deserve,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes which had been coldly observing me, had turned hot enough to burn.
“What I deserve? I’m not the one who took advantage of drunk girl in a state of total vulnerability. The whole thing is predatory. You should be ashamed of yourself,” I said fiercely. My words seemed to shock Garrett because he stopped his slow advancement, his face blanking.
“Is that what you think? That I took advantage of you?” he asked softly and I knew the idea that I actually thought that hurt him. Hurt him deeply and that softened the hard layer around my heart just a smidge.
Garrett pushed his messy hair back off his forehead in a gesture I was coming to find meant he was flustered. “Shit, Riley. I was drunk. You were drunk. It happened. I never meant to take advantage of you. I just thought” he stopped abruptly and I knew that I needed to hear what he was going to say.
“Thought what?” I demanded, my tone leaving no room for refusal.
Garrett looked at the ground and I found his sudden unsurety disconcerting. Garrett was a confident guy. This person in front of me was decidedly uncertain.
“I don’t know. I thought you wanted to be with me. What a fucking joke that was. I should have fucking known better,” he laughed bitterly and bent to pick up his guitar case. His shoulders were tense and he wouldn’t look at me. Somehow, someway I had laid this man low and I felt an immeasurable amount of guilt about it.
“Come home with me,” I said and I wanted to bite my tongue. Where the hell had that come from? What was wrong with me? This was so not what I needed. This was not good for me in any way. But right now, this is what I wanted and that trumped any sense I had of adhering to my status quo.
I knew that my friend wanted him. That she was making a play for the very guy I was proposing to come home and knock boots with. Where was my sense of loyalty and friends before hos or whatever? I was being a slut. But I wanted this man to make me dirty.
Garrett’s head snapped up in total shock. “Excuse me?” he asked, staring at me as though I had been speaking gibberish. Oh god, I wish I had been speaking gibberish. Because I couldn’t take it back now. And that sick, masochistic, seriously deluded side of me didn’t want to. Because it had officially taken me over. There was no other explanation for the complete personality transplant I was experiencing.
All I knew was that he had touched a nerve. His earlier admission exposed a side of him I would never have thought existed and it struck a chord in me. He was again that boy in his living room, telling me I was beautiful.
I wanted him. Tonight. And I couldn’t think beyond that. The implications of my choice would have to wait for another day. Because something else was guiding my decisions right now. And it wasn’t my head.
I stepped into his personal space, not touching him, but close enough that I could if I wanted to. “Come home with me. Just one more night. I want to know if throwing away my morals was worth it,” I said wishing the words had sounded a little less prudish. But whatever, I sort of was a prude.
Garrett laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Are you serious?” he asked after quieting down.
“As a heart attack,” I replied. Part of
me knew he could reject me outright and make me look like a complete and total ass. But staring into his blue eyes I knew he wouldn’t. He wanted this, whatever it was, as much as I did.
He pulled out his keys and nodded his head in the direction of his van. “Come on then,” he said. He didn’t take my hand. He didn’t say another word, just headed to his vehicle, leaving me the choice to follow him or not.
You bet I followed him.
Clearly this whole no strings attached sex thing was a lot less awkward when you were falling down drunk. Or maybe it was just as awkward and I thankfully couldn’t remember any of it. I didn’t know what to say. Sure I had initiated this, but now that Garrett and I were heading to my apartment I felt like a tool.
I didn’t do casual sex. Every time I had been intimate with someone (not counting the guy who would be jumping into my hotbox in a matter of minutes) I had been in love, or at the very least, committed to them. It wasn’t in my psyche to be able to handle a quick round of wam-bam-thank-you-ma’am.
Case in point, the utter shitfest I had created after sleeping with Garrett the first time. So why, do you ask, was I allowing myself to slide vagina first back into another emotional landslide? Oh because I had somehow morphed into an absolute idiot. I was now a chick obsessesed with her own destruction apparently.
Because that was what the Garrett Bellows sexcipades promised.
My ruin.
Was I being overly dramatic? Perhaps. But there was something in the way I felt with Garrett that took me out of my comfort zone and thrust me, without preamble, into the cold, hard world of lust and want. I had never been ruled by my hormones.
I wasn’t a girl who made life decision based on what was going on between her legs. But Garrett made all sense of logic take a flying leap out the window. Or maybe it was the person I had slowly been turning into since Damien had dumped me. I felt a change at a molecular level that was both unsettling and exciting.
Perfect Regret ( BOOK 2) Page 10
