by Olivia Evans
“You want to hang out here today and watch football?”
“Sounds good to me.”
I spent the rest of the day sprawled out on the couch, popping aspirin, chugging water, and watching football. By six that night, I was convinced I’d either drunk the nastiest tequila known to mankind or I’d been poisoned. Either option was possible. Maybe both.
“God,” I groaned, sitting up and propping my elbows on my knees so I could rest my head in my hands.
“You need grease, man,” Drew said, leaning away from me like he could catch my hangover. I nodded in agreement. That was exactly what I needed.
“Why don’t you run over to Delfino’s and pick up a couple pizzas?” Rachel asked, sitting on the arm of Drew’s chair. I looked at her through my fingers, my face screwed up at the thought of having to move.
“There’s not a chance in hell of either of you going, is there?” I already knew the answer.
“Not a one,” Rachel singsonged like the smartass she was. I didn’t bother looking at Drew. Asking him to leave the house while a football game was on was like asking him to cut off his dick. It wasn’t going to happen.
“Fine,” I sighed, rising to my feet. “Will you call in the order, and I’ll go pick it up?”
Rachel nodded and grabbed her phone as I walked to my bedroom to slip on my shoes and grab my wallet. Fucking tequila. By the time I made it to the pizza place, I had a sheen of sweat across my brow. I was dizzy and felt like I was going to puke all over the floor. Maybe I really had been poisoned. I’d been waiting in line for a couple minutes when I felt someone wrap their fingers around my shoulder and tug.
I glanced back, ready to tell whoever was touching me to fuck off, only to be met with Skylar’s concerned face. Son of a bitch. This could not be happening. There was no way I could keep up with her smart mouth. I could barely remember to blink.
“You don’t look so good there, stalker,” she commented, a small smile on her face.
“How very astute of you.”
“Ouch, touchy.” She winced and pulled her hand from my shoulder. Fuck. I had to dial down my annoyance, or she was going to bail.
I turned to face her. “Sorry.”
“Are you sick?”
Sick sounded a lot better than hungover. Maybe I could play it up a little, get her to feel sorry for me.
“Yeah.” I ran my hand across my stomach for emphasis. “You want to grab a table and wait for the line to die down?” I started walking before she answered. I knew she’d follow. She fell into the chair across from me and studied my face.
“You sure you’re not just hungover?” she asked, her brow arched. Shit. I wondered if her coworker had mentioned seeing me out last night, and if that was a good or bad thing.
“Nah, I went out for a while with a buddy of mine, but I was already feeling kind of shitty, so I called it an early night.”
She nodded but kept her eyes down, watching her fingers as she shredded a napkin on the table. “Yeah, I heard you were out last night,” she said, her voice nonchalant. I tried to fight the grin pulling at the side of my mouth, but the way she narrowed her eyes let me know I was unsuccessful.
“Who’s the stalker now?” I smirked, no longer attempting to hide my smile. She balled up her napkin and threw it at me, a scowl on her face.
“Shut up. And I can’t help that your little performance last night had Laura gossiping about you to everyone at work this morning.”
Jesus Christ, would she ever stop being so damn defensive? Not that she shouldn’t be, but still, it wasn’t very conducive to my plan. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table and clasping my hands together.
“And why exactly do you believe what I said last night was a performance?”
She rolled her eyes. “Really, Brennan?”
What was I going to have to do to get her to agree to go out with me? She was so fucking stubborn. It was do-or-die time. She was either going to agree to go out with me or she wasn’t, but something had to give. I sat back in my chair and scrubbed my hand over my face before letting it fall to my lap.
“What do you want me to say, Skylar? That I’m sitting at home every night, pining for you? Doodling your name and drawing little hearts around it?” My voice sounded exasperated. I really hoped this wasn’t about to blow up in my face. “I like you. I’ve been pretty clear about that, but you won’t even give me a chance to buy you a cup of coffee. So yeah, I might have played it up a little for Laura to get your attention, because honestly, I’m starting to feel like you’re just dicking me around. Maybe you just like stringing me along.” I looked at my lap and tugged the hem of my shirt. There was no way I could look at her; even I was shocked at the bullshit that had just flown out of my mouth. She let out a heavy sigh before tapping her nails against the table.
“Hey, look, I’m not trying to string you along okay, I just…”
I waited a second for her to continue, but when she didn’t, I raised my head to look at her. She was studying me, her eyes intense.
“Don’t make me regret this,” she said in a low voice. A slow smile crept across my face when I realized what she was saying.
“Yeah?” I asked, grinning wider when she rolled her eyes and nodded.
“About fucking time,” I laughed, causing her to reach across the table and smack my arm.
“Hey, don’t make me take it back,” she warned, pointing her finger at me. I grabbed her finger and pushed her hand to the table, trapping it underneath mine.
“Nuh-uh,” I said, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. “Too late. You’re never getting rid of me now.”
“Because I’ve been so successful at getting rid of you thus far,” she drawled, leaning over the table.
“Now, Skylar,” I whispered, moving closer, our foreheads nearly touching. “We both know you don’t really want to get rid of me.”
She smiled, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth before releasing it slowly. “You have got to be the cockiest, most arrogant motherfucker I have ever met.”
“And yet, here you sit.”
She hummed in response. “And here I sit,” she echoed. We stared at each other for a minute, and I swear it felt like even our stares were challenging each other. Everything with this girl was a battle of wills.
“Dixon!” someone shouted from behind the counter, causing us to jump. I chuckled and pulled my hands away.
“Do you want to come back with me to my place? Watch football and eat pizza?” I asked, pushing back my chair and standing.
“I thought you were sick.”
“I’m feeling much better now. Maybe I just need to keep you around. I’m sure you taste better than any medicine I could take.” I grinned and maybe leered a little.
“I can’t,” she sighed, standing. “I have some friends waiting on me as well. I’m sure they’d be pissed if I didn’t show up with their ham and banana pepper pizza.”
She shifted her weight and glanced over her shoulder toward the counter where the guy who yelled my name was looking around the store. When his eyes landed on me, I nodded to let him know I’d be right there. I was thankful for the distraction, so Skylar didn’t notice how my hands balled into fists and my jaw tightened. I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised that she was here to pick up Matt’s favorite pizza. It shouldn’t piss me off that she just agreed to go on a date with me while picking up food for her boyfriend, but it did. Somewhere in the last few minutes, I’d forgotten why I was doing this, and that was un-fucking-acceptable. I smoothed my expression and cleared my throat.
“So, when do I get to take you out?” I asked with a smile as my body burned with resentment.
“How about we figure it out over coffee on Monday?”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you then.” I smiled. She smiled. We were both fucking liars.
September 20, 2015
We met for coffee this morning, same as always, but different. I was on edge, annoyed, and I couldn’t fig
ure out why. Things were finally going the way I wanted, but maybe that was what pissed me off. Maybe I wanted her to keep blowing me off, to actually be different, but she wasn’t. We made plans for the weekend, somewhere off campus—her idea, no fucking surprise there. But I would take her out, smile, and be fake, just like her. It was all about the end game anyway. Always the end game.
The greatest obstacle to discovery is not ignorance - it is the illusion of knowledge.
~Daniel J. Boorstin
September 2015
I stood in front of my closet, a towel around my waist, another thrown over my shoulder. I felt like I’d lost my balls standing there debating what to wear.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Drew asked, leaning on the doorframe. I flung the shirt in my hand on the bed and scrubbed my face in frustration. This had to be one of the most bizarre situations I’d ever found myself in, and as of late, that was saying something.
“I have a date,” I answered shortly.
“And I don’t have anything to wear,” Rachel mocked in a high-pitched voice as she strolled into my room and threw herself across the bed. I narrowed my eyes at her. I was in no mood for her shit. Drew let out a guffaw so loud I winced, momentarily forgetting the she-devil sprawled across my bed.
“Don’t you assholes have anything better to do?” I walked to my dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers. I thought they’d take the hint and leave, but both just stared at me, their expressions impassive. So, I did what anyone else in my situation would do; I dropped the towel.
“Brennan!” Rachel squeaked, covering her face with her hands.
“What the hell, bro!” Drew yelled at the same time.
I smirked, taking my sweet time to pull on my boxers. “Hey, I tried to warn you. It’s your own damn fault you didn’t take the hint and get out.”
“Ugh,” Rachel groaned, rolling to her side. “Jesus, how many of these things do you have?” I looked over as she pulled my journal out from under her. I stepped to the bed and yanked it out of her hand, giving her a scathing look.
“Privacy. Respect it,” I spat, throwing it on top of my desk.
Drew walked over to the desk and sat down, propping up his arm. What the hell was this, circle time?
“Why are you here?” I asked, impatient. I needed to figure out what I was going to wear, then do a sweep under the bed to see if I could find my fucking balls. Drew ignored me and turned his attention to Rachel, who had made a damn pallet out of pillows on my bed. Jesus.
“He’s always had these. Since he was…seven, maybe,” Drew mused, moving my journal to the back of the desk. I pulled a pair of jeans out of the dresser and tugged them on. I guess I was getting dressed with an audience.
“Hey, Drew, why don’t you explain to Rachel why I started keeping a journal in the first place?” His face paled as he swallowed thickly. Yeah, he was about to look like an asshole.
He darted his eyes to Rachel. “Shit.” I crossed my arms over my chest, aware that I still hadn’t decided what to wear, but I couldn’t bring myself to miss watching Drew squirm.
“Uh,” he started, clearing his throat. “Well, you know our grandmother had Alzheimer’s, right?” She furrowed her brow and nodded. “Well, when our parents explained what that meant to us, I decided to play a trick on Brennan.” He reached up and rubbed his neck, a telltale sign that he was nervous. He should be.
“Play a trick, how?” Rachel asked, sitting up.
“It was stupid,” he huffed. “Brennan had this really cool Batmobile car that I wanted, so I told him it was mine when he caught me playing with it. When he argued and said it was his, I told him that he caught Alzheimer’s from Grams and he must not remember giving it to me.” He winced when Rachel gasped.
“Drew, that’s terrible.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was six. But since then, he’s written down everything about his day in one of those fucking notebooks.”
“It just became a habit,” I cut in, not wanting to sound like a pussy for still doing it. Rachel rolled her eyes and walked to the door.
“You two are ridiculous,” she sighed before heading down the hall.
I turned back to the closet again, chuckling when I caught Drew flip me off.
“So, you’re really going through with it?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?” I grabbed a black T-shirt and a long-sleeved gray button-down. This would have to do. I looked at Drew, whose face was the picture of judgment.
“Never mind. Where are you taking her?”
I scowled as I sat on the bed and pulled on my socks. “I have no fucking clue where we’re going or what we’re doing.”
Drew’s brows rose in surprise. “Come again?”
“We met for coffee on Monday before class, just like we’ve been doing.” I was annoyed just thinking about it. “I asked for her number and where I could pick her up, thinking maybe I’d find out a little more about her since she’s always so fucking shady, and do you know what she said to me? She said, ‘I have some conditions for this date,’” I mocked, standing from the bed and pacing the length of my room.
“Conditions?”
“Yes. She said we were meeting at the coffee shop, and she got to plan the date. I mean, what the fuck kind of shit is that?” I pushed my hands through my hair and pulled in a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what kind of shit that is,” I continued, matter-of-fact. “It’s what a smart fucking girl who doesn’t want to get caught by her boyfriend does.”
I shook my head in disgust. I might sound like an asshole, but I felt no remorse for what I was doing. Skylar made me wonder if Terri had been this sneaky, conniving. If Terri covered her tracks half as well as Skylar, then the shit she could have done behind my back made me want to vomit.
“Damn,” Drew said quietly.
“I know, she’s—”
“Got your number,” he laughed, cutting me off.
“What?” I yelled, spinning around to face him. Not that he heard me since he was doubled over with laughter.
“Dude,” he choked. “This girl sounds like a handful. I can’t wait to meet her.”
I ground my teeth together and balled my fists. “Why the fuck would you want to meet a girl who is cheating on her boyfriend? A girl just like Terri.” I watched as Drew’s expression sobered.
“I’m sorry, man,” he mumbled. “I hope when this is all said and done, you’ll have found whatever it is you’re looking for.” He stood from the chair and clapped my shoulder before leaving the room.
I sighed and looked at my watch, cursing when I realized it was already after six and I needed to leave. I grabbed my keys and took off toward the coffee shop, my conversation with Drew playing on a loop in my head. I didn’t need to be in this frame of mind when I saw Skylar. I was certain it would be hard to look at her with anything other than resentment, and that wouldn’t be very helpful.
I spotted her sitting at one of the tables out front of the shop wearing jeans and a casual sweater. She had her phone out and looked to be sending a text or something the way her fingers moved across the screen. I took a deep breath and pushed all the bullshit out of my mind, instead focusing on how hot she looked. Because that fact was undeniable—she was smoking, and I really couldn’t wait to get her naked. She looked up and smiled before sliding her phone into her back pocket and standing.
“Ah, you decided to show after all,” she joked, walking over to me.
“Of course, I did. Did you think just because you emasculated me by planning our first date that I’d turn into a pussy and stay home eating ice cream and watching chick flicks?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Stop,” she sighed, bringing the back of her hand to her forehead and swaying. “I might pass out swooning from the sweet things you say to me.”
Smartass.
“Pfft, don’t act like you don’t love that shit. Plus,” I whispered, curling my finger in her belt loop and pulling her closer. “Sweet words are nothing compared to the sw
eet things I could do to you with my mouth.”
“You, sir,” she said, reaching down and pulling my finger from her belt loop, “are no gentleman.”
I chuckled. “I never claimed to be.”
She smoothed her hair back from her face and cleared her throat, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Are you ready to go?”
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
She tugged on my shirtsleeve and shook her head. “Oh hush, you big baby. Let’s get going.”
“I take it you’re going to drive too?”
She grinned and pulled on my sleeve again before walking toward the parking lot. I sighed before jogging up behind her. Damn, she looked hot in those jeans.
“Will you at least pretend like this is a date and let me open a door for you or something? Christ,” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle of what I assumed was her car. She stopped abruptly, pulling her hand away from the door and making a sweeping gesture in front of her.
“Thanks,” I snarked, opening the door. I jogged around the car and climbed into the passenger seat, noticing the interior. It was a fucking mess. I opened my mouth to comment at the same time her hand shot out in front of my face.
“My car is a disaster. Your commentary is not necessary,” she cut in before I could even say anything. Well, that was rude.
Once we pulled out of the parking lot, we talked about classes and other school-related topics, but whenever I tried to ask anything personal, she changed the subject. It was starting to piss me off how guarded she was. As far as she knew, I had no ulterior motives, so unless she planned on this being a one-time thing, I didn’t get it.
I hadn’t told her much about myself either, and if I wanted her to open up, I’d have to give her something. I’d have to pretend like everything was exactly how it looked—this was a real date, and I was really interested in her.
“My brother Drew wants to meet you,” I said casually before immediately wanting to punch myself in the face. Why the fuck did I just say that to her? I cut my eyes in her direction and noticed her eyebrows had risen nearly to her hairline.
