21. First Impressions are Sometimes Right

twenty-one

Jack

Iam a fucking idiot.

That’s all I keep saying to myself after the events of last night. I never should have kissed Liz. Hell, I never even should have asked her to dance.

I need to be staying away from her. That’s hard when her hot body is pressed up against mine as we move to the music.

What the fuck was I thinking?

When I saw her dancing with Jamie, I just lost it. I tell myself that it’s just because I’m worried about anything happening between the two of them…although I don’t know which one I would be worried about more. It would be awkward if it ended badly because Jamie works with Liz’s brother. That wouldn’t be an ideal situation for anyone.

Yes, that’s what I’m telling myself.

I refuse to believe that jealousy comes into play here at all because Liz may be fun to look at, but that’s where the attraction ends. I’ve been with enough women where the attraction was purely superficial. Unfortunately, in those situations, it took me far too long to realize that fact, and I got fucked in the process.

I have no intention of letting that happen again.

So, why the fuck did I kiss her?

Maybe it was just to shut her up.

She’s like a little Pitbull, going after what she wants until she gets it. I’m sure a woman like that isn’t used to being told no.

Get used to it, princess. You’re going to keep hearing it from me.

I do my best to work through the day without thinking about her, but I fail every time. Maybe I should give things a chance with Misty just to get Liz out of my head.

Listen to me—now, I really am talking crazy.

Liz has me losing my fucking mind. Can’t she just go back to Los Angeles?

Jamie interrupts my work when he pokes his head into my office. “Do you have a second?”

“Of course. Come on in,” I say, wondering if after I left, he ended up getting into Liz’s pants.

When he sits down, I ask, “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Liz.”

Here it comes.

“What about her?”

He fidgets with the key ring that’s attached to his belt. “Look, boss, I didn’t know you were into her, or I wouldn’t have gone after her.”

“What?” I ask much louder than I mean to.

“Clearly, there’s something going on there.”

“Jamie, I can assure you that there is nothing going on there.”

He smiles. “Maybe not yet, but I saw the way you two looked at each other. She wasn’t looking at me like that, Jack.”

“Like what?”

“Like she wanted you to rip all her clothes off and fuck her seven ways to Sunday.”

I lean back in my chair. “You’ve lost your mind. She and I don’t even get along.”

“Then, maybe you two just need to hate fuck or something. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I just want you to know that I’m stepping back.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He nods. “I want to. Besides, she’s not my type anyway.”

I find that hard to believe, but he’s already standing up, getting ready to walk out.

Before he leaves, he says, “Hey, we are all going to Andre’s Tavern tonight to play some pool. You want to come?”

I think for a moment, trying to think if I want to make up an excuse. But honestly, I have nothing else going on.

“Sure,” I answer. “Pool and a couple of drinks sounds like fun.”

“Don’t fuck this up,” Adam tells me as I line up the shot that could win us the game.

We are playing against Dylan and Jamie and so far have been wiping the floor with them.

Always a sore loser, Jamie says, “After this game, I’m probably going to head out.”

Of course, you are. If you were winning, you’d want to stay here all damn night.

Dylan rolls his eyes, knowing Jamie is the only reason they are losing. “Dude, coming out to play pool was your idea.”

“I can’t help it if I’m tired!” Jamie practically shrieks.

I take a deep breath and hit the 8 ball. It slowly rolls in, and we win. Adam and I high-five while Dylan curses and Jamie sulks.

True to his word, Jamie leaves within a couple of minutes, and we are left with just three.

Adam asks, “Should we do a little one-on-one, and then the winner plays the other one?”

“Sure,” Dylan and I both agree.

While I’m getting the table set up for the next round, Adam points to the bar, “Hey, Dylan, isn’t that one of your sisters?”

We both look up to see which sister he is referring to. But I should already know…because the universe has a sick sense of humor.

Liz is sitting by herself at the bar sipping on what looks like a rum and Coke.

“Did you know she was coming out tonight?” Adam asks Dylan.

“No. She doesn’t tell me much about her life. To be fair, I didn’t tell her I was coming out tonight either.”

Adam sips his beer. “How is it having her home?”

Dylan shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t see her much, so honestly not too different—aside from the fact that everyone asks me a million questions about where she’s been and what happened to her.”

I still haven’t said much because I don’t know what more I can add to this conversation aside from telling Dylan that his sister is a giant pain in my ass.

Adam says, “She looks lonely, man. Do you think we should ask her if she wants to come over and hang out with us? We could use another for pool.”

I have to stifle my loud groan because Dylan is already walking over to get her.

So much for a nice, quiet night with the guys.

An hour later, we have already played a couple of rounds, and much to my surprise, Dylan and Liz have beat Adam and I both times. Even though I’m sure she’s a few drinks ahead of the rest of us, Liz isn’t bad at pool.

Mostly, we just make small talk and give each other shit. I try not to focus on how great her ass looks in the jeans she’s wearing or how when she bends over the table, her thong pokes out from the top of them.

I’m trying to be good here, but fuck.

After we finish the second game, Liz asks, “Who wants to do some shots?”

All of us politely decline because I can’t even remember the last time I did shots—probably because I blacked out afterward.

No thanks.

She goes to the bar, and the three of us all exchange a worried glance.

Dylan says, “My plan was to get out of here, but I don’t know that I feel comfortable leaving her here alone when she’s getting shitfaced.”

Knowing I will regret the next words that come out of my mouth, I say, “You go ahead. I planned on having one more beer anyway. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You sure?”

Not at all.

“Yeah, go.”

When Liz returns from the bar, I see that she has two shots in her hands.

“I said I didn’t want one,” I tell her.

“Who said either of these were for you?”

Then, I watch her down them both, making a face after each one.

“How much have you had?” I ask her.

She starts to count on her fingers. What exactly is she counting? I’m not sure. And it doesn’t matter because she quickly gives up.

“Doesn’t matter,” she slurs. “Because I am feeling no pain.”

“Is that right?”

She moves toward me, practically pushing her chest into mine. “That’s right. I’m not even upset anymore about the fact that you didn’t come running this morning.”

“You were upset?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Her face contorts in disgust. “No! I just…I mean…I was just expecting you. That’s all. It was rude of you not to come.”

Before I can say anything more on the subject, she’s already moved on to something new. “I want to hear some music.”

“There’s music playing,” I tell her.

“Not this country garbage. Something with a beat.” She takes off toward the jukebox. I watch her fiddle with some cash for a minute before the machine finally accepts it.

A rap song starts playing through the speakers, and a collective groan fills the bar. Liz doesn’t even seem to notice.

On her way back to me, she stops behind the bar top and grabs a bottle of tequila. “It’s okay,” she tells the bartender. “My parents own the place.”

When she’s before me once again, she holds her head back, opens her mouth, and pours some of the liquid down her throat.

She’s going to be hurting tomorrow.

But tonight, she seems to be all about having fun.

“Give me a boost,” she says.

“To where?”

She points to the pool table.

“You want me to lift you onto the pool table? No, I don’t think so.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you ever even consider breaking the rules?” Without my help, she manages to get onto the table. It’s a little like watching a seal try to crawl back from the beach into the ocean. But she finally makes it.

When up there, she starts dancing to the music she just put on. I try not to pay attention to how good her hips look as she moves.

A couple of people walk over to us—Max Kudrow being one of them.

He looks up at her. “Why would you turn on this trash music? We were all having a good time without it.”

“This music is better.”

“Says who?”

She smiles. “Says the rest of the world.” When she takes a good look at him, she says, “Hey, don’t I know you?”

“Yeah. I’m Max. We sort of hooked up on prom night.”

“Oh, yeah!” She says as the realization hits her.

“Man, how the mighty have fallen.”

“What?” Liz asks, trying to make it out over the music.

He shouts so she can hear him. “Just thinking about how sad it was that the girl who had everything going for her is drunk dancing on top of a pool table.”

I think that something about his comment is going to snap her out of whatever drunken state she’s in, but it seems to make her even crazier.

“You know what I think is sad?” She leans forward to make sure he hears her. “That back at prom, you thought your tiny limp dick gave me anything remotely close to an orgasm.”

He’s so taken back that he’s literally stunned into silence.

I’m surprised when I see Misty walk up from behind him. I had no idea she was even here.

“Do you have to come in here and drag everyone down just to make them feel as awful as you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Misty Jacobs. I haven’t seen you since you were standing in my shadow in high school.”

Misty clenches her jaw. “Guess things have changed quite a bit, huh?”

“No. Not really.” She sees that everyone has gathered around the pool table and is now staring, waiting to see what kind of rant she’s going to go on next. And she doesn’t disappoint. “You all know that there’s a big wide world out there, right? Outside of these mountains, there’s a hell of a lot more than flannel and deer heads and country music. Why wouldn’t you want to experience all of that? Why would you want to stay here with your sad lives—”

I see that she’s starting to rile the crowd up, and quite frankly, I’ve heard enough. I pick her up off the pool table and throw her over my shoulder.

“Come on, princess. Time to go sleep it off.”

All the way out of the bar, she’s trying to punch me in the back. “Excuse me, Paul Bunyan! Put me down!”

“Nope. You can’t be trusted when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m fine!” She squeals.

“Tell me the letters of the alphabet backward.”

“Z…Y…X…Uhh. Look, that’s not fair. I’m not sure I could do that when I’m sober.”

Finally, she gets tired and stops hitting me and just lays there, hanging upside down like a limp noodle.

“You alive, princess?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“You know, you can’t just talk to people like that,” I tell her.

“Why? They say far worse about me behind my back.”

“Liz, you don’t seem like the type who would give a shit about what people say about you behind your back.”

“It just gets old especially when I’m sure that what they’re saying is wrong.”

“That still doesn’t give you the right to talk to them like they’re something you stepped in.”

All my words are met with is a strong silence.

“You know, Liz, just when I think that there’s something decent under your bratty exterior, you prove me wrong.”

“Back at you, buttercup,” she says, poking her finger into my back. “Could you stop swaying so much? My stomach doesn’t feel so good.”

“We are almost to the inn.”

“I don’t need an escort,” she argues.

“Oh, yes you do. I’m worried you’ll burn the whole damn town to the ground.”

“Ha! Don’t tempt me.”

A couple of minutes later, we walk into the inn. I say hi to the girl sitting at the counter and ask which way is Liz’s room.

Liz answers for her, “Up the stairs. All the way at the end of the right hallway.”

It isn’t until we are inside that I set her on her feet.

“You should go to bed,” I tell her.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she quips.

“Whatever. Good night.” I go to leave, but she stops me.

“Jack?”

“Yes?”

“You know how we kissed last night?”

I run my hand over my beard. “Yeah, I vaguely remember.”

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know. Alcohol, I guess,” I lie.

“So, you didn’t feel anything?”

In this moment, I could tell her that I did feel something. I could tell her that it took every ounce of willpower I had to walk away from her. But seeing what she was like tonight proved every one of my theories about her correct.

So, instead, I say, “No. I didn’t feel anything at all.”

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