by Josephs, Mia
“It’s not like you were looking to get married, Nathaniel.”
Anger pushes through me in a rush. I stand and grab my clothes, very purposefully not looking at her. Now I’m really wishing I’d have taken the time to shower before crashing, but whatever. I slip on my shirt and start buttoning. Just wanting out. Home. Anything. My chest cracks and divides and it has nothing to do with last night and everything to do with Viv. I’d never purposefully be part of putting someone else in the shitty position I was in. Ever.
“You’re pissed,” Darrian says. “Why are you pissed?”
I stuff on my shoes and head for the door.
“Nathaniel!” She runs up behind me and grasps my arm. “We had sex. I needed last night. You were kind of my last…fling, you know, before settling down. Thank you.”
I work my jaw a few times. I should be proud or happy she chose me. I’m a guy. We’re supposed to be thrilled when a night of sex comes with no strings. “No one should be in your boyfriend’s place right now.”
Her eyes widen in shock and I jerk the door open.
Her fingers dig into my shoulder. “You won’t tell him, will you?”
I shake my head, making sure I don’t look at her again before walking away.
Everything I think says I shouldn’t be feeling torn up right now, but everything I’ve experienced says I should. I hate that such a great night had to turn to shit first thing in the morning.
And because once I’m down, I tend to wallow, I pull out my cell in the elevator and scroll to the texts I’ve gotten from Viv. Starting with the apologetic ones to the ones accusing me of stealing her favorite LPs (which I totally did) and her grandmother’s earrings and necklace set (I’m more ashamed of taking these, but I knew they’d be the only thing that might get me a face-to-face with her) and then the texts degrade into rants on why I have to be so immature about the situation.
Honestly, I still want to pitch a five-year-old fit. We’d been talking marriage, and she was screwing my best friend. Instead, I buy a bottle of Daniels at the liquor store and a few packs of cigarettes and don’t even bother to roll down my car window to smoke. I hate feeling pathetic. Before thinking, I pick up my phone and dial the girl who might be able to tell me why Darrian felt the need to screw around on her boyfriend.
“Nate! Dammit!” Viv yells into the phone the second she picks up.
“Yeah. Hey… It’s been a while since we talked. I just…” Wanted to torture myself further? I’m driving aimlessly after sex with someone who used me and when I didn’t take time to shower and when I feel like I should be enjoying the no-strings situation I found myself in, but I’m not.
“I want my stuff back, Nate. I’ve left you messages. You don’t take my phone calls. Your mother is becoming my friend at long last while she tells me how miserable you are, and all I can think is that you deserve it because you took my grandmother’s jewelry!”
There’s really no defense and I find myself cringing, hating her voice so angry. “I’m not that miserable.” Only in this moment, I am.
She pulls in a long breath and I’m holding mine to see how this conversation’s going to go. “Nate. Please. I don’t get why you took the set.”
“I don’t get why you were having sex with Shane.” Immature, but touché!
“Is it always going to come back to this?” She sounds bored. She should not sound bored when she’s talking to the guy whose heart she ripped out.
“When this is how you end a two year relationship, yes.” Why, why, why, wasn’t I good enough? Why did we end? That is what I really want to ask, but it makes me feel like a girl just thinking it. I know, I know. I’m sexist. Whatever.
“Keep the damn LPs, but I’m going to sue you for my grandmother’s jewelry. She’s all I have left of my family.”
It’s all I have left of you.
But my patheticness in thinking the jewelry is all I have of us is beyond words. “Fine,” I mumble. “I’ll put them in the mail tomorrow.”
“Fed Ex. Nate. With as much effing insurance as they’ll do.”
“I’m not sure if Fed Ex—”
But the line goes dead.
That didn’t go like I hoped, but then it’s sort of stupid to have any hope outside of what just happened. Still. I’ve run and re-run everything between us before the split, and we weren’t fighting. We were settled. Happy. Relaxed with each other. It was all good. Well, I guess better for her because she was doing Shane on the side. My chest cracks again so I grab the bottle of Daniels.
What is wrong with me?
Chapter Seven
Brooke
8:45
I am on my game this morning. Two cups of non-fat caramel macchiatos for Ms. Marks and myself, and a straight black coffee—gag—for Nate. Ms. Marks let me have an advance paycheck this time around and holy shit, did I hit the jackpot or what? No phone call to Mom and Dad, and the feeling I got when I checked off Pay Rent! was beyond happiness. I snotty cried all over my phone.
And I’m dressed in a black pantsuit that makes my ass look even better than my rockstar jeans. My breasts look freaking amazing too. I’ve got my hair pulled back, perfect makeup, and my phone full of appointments. I rock this wedding planner stuff.
Walking tall into the main office, a smell so pungent snakes up my nose and almost makes me lose the bagel I had for breakfast.
Oh no. No, no, no. Nate is not ruining my perfect morning. He’s passed out across the leather seats, his nose pressed into a crease between two chairs, and his arm dangles from the edge, a cigarette butt in between his index finger and bird.
How did he ever find that position comfortable? I suck in a quick breath and hold it so I don’t have to smell any more of his after smoke stink and set the coffees on the glass table. Better take off my beautiful new blazer, too. I’m not letting him near that while he’s in this state.
“Nate.” I snap my fingers in front of his face. Nothing. He’s drooling all over our nice chairs! Damn it, he needs a lesson in professionalism.
I squat down so I’m level to his face, take another breath, and smack his cheek. “Nate!”
His eyes pop open, completely bloodshot and crusty. I shake my head as he slowly takes a sitting position. He takes one look around the room, then groans and his face goes back into the leather.
“Seriously?” I smack his cheek again which earns me another grunt. “Get the hell up.”
“Why?” he muffles into the seat. “There’s no point.”
“Um, yes there is.” I grab his shoulders and heave him upright. He squints and groans at me, while I spread the contents of my purse on the chair next to his ass. “We have an appointment in less than ten minutes.”
“Who cares about that shit?” he says as I take my wet naps and scrub his scruff. He swats at my hands, but even though I’m a teeny tiny girl and he’s this muscular man, I’m a lot stronger than him at the moment. I take his wrists and force them to his sides, then pull another wipe to get the edges of his mouth. Oh, his teeth are a wreck! Good thing I keep emergency ready-to-go toothbrushes in here as well. I pull that out and force his mouth open, and he talks around the toothpaste as I scrub off the remnants of his night. “Webbings, commibment, lobe… it’s all shibby shib shib.”
“I care about that shit.” Especially if it’s getting me a paycheck. “And so does your mom, who should be here any second.” I take my coffee cup, frowning as I yank the top off and hold it out to him. “Spit.”
He lets it all fall out, ruining my morning coffee buzz, but oh well. I pull out my Clear Eyes bottle and straighten up on my knees to reach his face. “Tilt your head back and don’t blink.”
He slams his head against the wall, and he must be completely beyond caring since he doesn’t even flinch as I flush his eyes with the drops.
“Why do you care about it?”
“What?” I sigh, grabbing my comb and travel gel.
“You haven’t had any success in relationships. Why the hell d
o you care about love? It’s not like anybody really commits themselves to another person. There’s always someone else. Why go through the big show?”
My hands pause on his head, but only slightly. I drag the comb through a few times, then grab my gel, shaking as I squirt it in my palm.
8:54
“What makes you think people can’t fully commit to each other?” I ask, smoothing his hair over to style it business appropriate. It’s surprisingly soft, considering the position I found him in. I take extra care with it, even though we’re running short on time.
“I haven’t witnessed or been a part of anything to make me believe otherwise.”
I move my gaze from his dark hair to his dark eyes. The red is slowly disappearing from the drops, but there’s a sadness in them I don’t think anything in my purse can fix. I give him a semi-smile, and my fingers linger in his hair.
“Neither have I,” I tell him honestly. Dad and Mom got together while Dad was dating someone else. And all my relationships haven’t gotten past level three. “But I have to believe that they can.”
“Why?”
I let my hands fall from his hair. “It’s part of the plan. After level three, there’s exclusivity. You date steadily for a year before you move in together. You learn each other’s living habits for another year. If things are still going strong, you get married another year after that. You have your first kid by the time you’re twenty-seven. You both work steady and stable jobs, and you have a wonderful pre-school and daycare that help develop your child’s mind and social skills.”
“And you hold Tupperware parties and eat mini sandwiches,” he grumbles.
I roll my eyes and grab the wet naps to wipe the gel from my hands. “I’m not saying it will be perfect, but I have a plan for it. It’s what I want in life. So I have to believe that plan will work.”
“You know, I had that plan with Viv. Trust me, it sucks.”
His eyes gloss over before he slams them closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. I have the sudden urge to wrap my arms around his head and hold him to me—to somehow help. If I was a guy friend, I’d probably smack him on the back and say, “Pull yourself together, man.” But I’m not even sure if I’m a friend at all.
I open my mouth. “Who’s Vi—”
My phone buzzes, jolting me from his torn face to the clock.
9:00
Damn it. It still smells like a bar in here, and for once in my life, I’m grateful someone is late. I grab my mini perfume and spray it all over Nate, then stand upright to get the rest of the room.
He just sits there as I jam my emergency kit back in my purse. Once I get everything in a nice position, including Nate, I set his coffee in his hands.
“Drink,” I order. Then I adjust his collar, button that top button, and he must be really out of it to not even move to get it undone. I take a step back and admire my work. Add groomer to my résumé.
Except, he still looks miserable. And even though I know it won’t fix anything, I take a deep breath, satisfied with the perfume scent, and give him a hug. “Pull yourself together, man,” I joke. I can be a guy friend if he needs me to be. My stomach gives a happy twirl when he lightly chuckles and wraps one hand around my waist to squeeze me back.
“Thank you.”
I want to back away, because we’re still seriously running behind schedule, but he pulls me into him so hard I fall in his lap.
I’ll give him a pass. He’s hungover—or still drunk—so the way his face presses into the curve of my neck is completely because he has no idea what he’s doing.
“Viv is my ex.” He sighs. “We had it all mapped out. The wedding and our lives after. And she was sleeping with my best friend the whole time.” He tugs me harder. “The whole time. Okay. Not the whole, whole time…but I think a lot.”
My phone buzzes again.
9:05
But I can’t let go of him. Not when he’s like this.
“I’m sorry.” Because what else do I say? I rub his back, still feeling a bit weird perched on his lap, but I can’t find a smooth way to get off, so I stay put. “Don’t think that every relationship will be like that. Give it time. Maybe it won’t be shit anymore.”
He sighs again, but loosens his grip, and I take the opportunity to slide from his lap and put my jacket back on.
“I doubt it, but thanks anyway.”
I feel like arguing, but my damn phone goes off again.
9:10
Okay, where the hell is everybody?
He smirks at the look I give my phone.
“It’s Friday,” he says.
“Oh, good for you. You’re coherent enough to know what day it is.”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “Fridays, our schedules go from ten to seven instead of nine to six.”
I blink a few times and he laughs as I flick through my phone. Did I actually schedule something wrong?
***
“I’m so sorry,” I say, grappling for my keys to let Nick in. I told him to meet me here at 7:30, thinking I’d be off and home by 6:30, have an hour to get my sexy third date look on, and order takeout. Instead I’m rushing out of a cab, my updo completely harried and gross, my beautiful pantsuit is amazing for work, but doesn’t scream, “It’s time to take this up a notch!” and my stomach is growling like an earthquake again.
“It’s fine.” He leans in, and his lips are on my neck as I unlock the door. I bite my smile back as tingles shoot up and down my spine. The second we’re inside, he’s on me and my smile’s gone. No, give me a second, please! I’m not in cute underwear. I smell like Nate’s hangover. My tummy keeps going off and I can’t hit the snoozer on it anymore.
“Um,” I mumble around his lips, “will you give me a few minutes?”
He backs off, but there is a giant strain on his face like he’s really frustrated. I deliver a small kiss near his ear to reassure him it’ll be worth it if he gives me a second to prepare.
“Will you order food while I go change?”
He looks at me like he’d rather go with me to change, but he’s not going to see this body until it’s level-three ready.
“Sure.”
I turn on my phone, and go to my highlighted list of takeout places. He takes it from me with a sigh, but makes himself comfortable on my couch while I speed walk to my room.
My eyes go to the royal blue cocktail dress—Tasha’s. She’s amazing and let me borrow it. My pant suit is probably the only clothing I’ll be able to spend money on for a while. But as long as I don’t have to call Mom and Dad for more cash, that is okay with me. I wish I could take a shower, but I’ll have to nix that.
I have one pair of black lace underwear. It still has the tag, because a guy hasn’t made it to date three since I bought them. The last candidate got to the end of date two, and he told me he was looking forward to “having fun” with me. Um, no thanks.
Nick and I have got this. He’s getting frustrated over me being late. I mean, I may as well be dating myself here.
I yank the tag off the panties and Snickers instantly jumps after it. It’s driving me nuts that it’s not in the garbage right away, but watching his cute, furry body bounce around and play, I tell myself I’ll find the remnants of it later and toss it.
After primping my cuteness, I put on my sex kitten walk and slide into my living room. I get the appropriate response of the mouth pop and brow raise, but then he says, “Are we going out?”
“No,” I say with a sly smile.
He’s off the couch before I can sit down. His mouth is hot and hard against mine, and I should be happy about this, but I’m thinking, I haven’t eaten yet. And I just put this on. Doesn’t he want to look at how sexy I am while we laugh and joke over Chinese food?
“Hey, um, Nick?” I ask when his lips move from mine down my neck and to my cleavage. My stomach is going haywire, and not in that turned on way. More like get-food-in-me-now way. “Can we…eat first?”
He stops, resting his he
ad near my cheek. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I throw out a shy smile. “I’m really hungry.”
“And after we eat…?”
The plan. “We can watch a movie.” Movie always equals make-out, which leads to the bedroom. It’s in every dating manual known to man.
He lets out a breath. “Brooke, I like you.”
“I like you, too.”
“But I can’t deal with this much longer. Can’t you just, let go for a second?” He kisses my collarbone, and I want to feel something there that’s stronger than the growling in my stomach, but I don’t. “Besides, I didn’t call for food.”
He what? “Why didn’t you order any food?”
“I figured we’d do that afterward.”
“After what?” I push him back, even though I know damn well what he’s talking about. I mean, I shouldn’t be so pissed because I’m planning for the same thing, but date three is going awful so far. I’m not even in the mood. I just want something to eat and relax for a damn minute. Maybe Nate was right about letting things go naturally instead of forcing it. Because I think if I were to force sex at anytime tonight, it’s going to be awful because my head isn’t on right now. And I want this to last past the sex.
“Come on, you know where this is going.” He kisses my jaw. “I want you. Can you just let loose for one second in your life, and I promise I’ll order you a whole damn buffet when we’re done.”
He so does not get me. I have to stick to schedules. I always thought when I met the right guy, he’d understand that. Or he’d make me want to adjust my scheduling to fit around him. But I’m feeling none of that with him. “Nick, I think you should go.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m not feeling it right now. So unless you want to sit and eat with me, watch a movie and relax, you can go.”
His brow crinkles. “Are you serious?”
I give him a curt nod. This is his chance to level up or get out. If he sticks around, then I’ll know this is much more to him than the lay.
But he doesn’t. He grabs his jacket and goes to my door, spouting off something about “high maintenance chicks.” When the door shuts behind him, I get my phone, order my own damn food, and rip my black panties off. With the way my love life goes, I don’t think anyone will be seeing them any time soon. I’m back down to level freaking one.
