37. “I’m a Mess” - Bebe Rexha
“I’m a Mess” - Bebe Rexha
Heath
I haven’t been on the water for two days, thanks to the big storm that rolled through and stirred the ocean like a witch’s cauldron.
Unfortunately, hitting the surf today has done little to eliminate the dull ache that’s taken up residence in my chest like a stray dog making himself at home under a porch.
Rather than jeopardize my status as the world’s biggest asshole, I’ve only solidified it by not confessing to everyone what actually went down between Walker and me.
They all still think she left for some inane reason, leaving the rest of us behind without a single word of explanation.
If they knew I cheated on her, it would change everything.
But Walker was right. I’m a fucking bloody coward.
I slap the water with my open palm. The sting distracts me from the pain in my chest for one second, but then it’s right back, tripping me up and keeping me from fully inflating my lungs.
I carry my board back to the shop, where Seeley has already closed up for the day. I shouldn’t have stayed out so late, but I kept hoping that the next wave would be the one to dispel this stupid ache. If anything, it’s only increased in intensity.
I can’t keep my brain from imagining what Walker is doing. Has she already returned to Oxford? Maybe she took a red-eye so she could get away as quickly as possible.
Seeley tosses me a towel as I walk through the back door. I always forget to bring one. Her gaze lingers on me as I prop my board up and dry off. Only once I’ve finished and thrown the towel into the laundry hamper do I meet her eyes.
“You going to tell me what’s wrong?” She hovers her hand over the till, ready to cash out for the day.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So I’m supposed to stand here while you thrash your way through my shop?” She gives the hamper a pointed look. I follow her gaze. My towel is draped over the side, hardly in the basket at all.
I close my eyes so she won’t see me roll them and toss it in. “Happy?”
“I’d be happier if you’d tell me what’s up with you.” She begins to set out stacks of bills on the counter in front of her.
“I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than usual.
She slaps a wad of money onto the counter. “Don’t play this game with me.” Her cheeks flush even through her tan.
“Seeley, I swear to god—”
“I thought we were friends.”
I flick the wet strands of hair out of my face. “Of course we are.”
“Then quit bullshitting me. Something’s wrong. You haven’t been yourself all day.”
I haven’t been myself for much longer than that. “Just a shitty weekend, is all.”
She walks around the counter. She’s wearing a purple sports bra and denim shorts.
The painful throb in my heart grows stronger as she approaches.
When she’s standing right in front of me, she stops and places a warm hand on my bare chest. “ Mine wasn’t so great either.
” Her voice is low-pitched, and my dick pulses with piqued interest.
Attaboy.
It’s been roughly seven months since we last hooked up.
Being with Seeley is easy, because she has no expectations.
She doesn’t expect me to call, and she doesn’t get upset when I’m too busy for more than a wave as I head through the shop.
I know what she likes. Bonus points for the fact that she isn’t hard to please.
She rises onto her tiptoes, palm still pressed against me, and seals her mouth over mine. She tastes like those lemon drops she keeps on the counter for customers, which she has a personal weakness for. Her body burns hot beneath my hands, which have found their way to her waist on instinct.
I tug her closer, eager for the feel of her breasts against me.
She lets out a raspy breath as I trace the curve of her spine with my thumb.
Blood rushes south at the sound. My dick is ready for this.
After my embarrassing fail on Saturday night, it’s comforting to know that he still knows how to perform.
I pull back, but only so I can pepper her jaw with kisses.
She tilts her head to give me better access, and I nibble on her earlobe in response.
Her scent is different. Not a clean coconut, but a tropical mixture, the kind you’d get from a bottle of sunscreen.
It smells nice, but it’s not what I’m expecting.
Her neck is too tempting, and I place a soft bite in the space behind her ear. She doesn’t gasp, doesn’t even give a sharp inhale. I do it again. Still nothing. That’s weird, but whatever. Maybe she’s not into it this time.
I move to slide my fingers into her hair, but it’s stuck in a tight ponytail. When has she ever worn—
Fuck.
She’s not Walker, you fucking moron .
I pull back abruptly. I don’t need a mirror to tell me that my face is flaming, but the one behind the counter mocks me anyway.
Seeley’s brows have risen until they’re nearly to her hairline. “What’s going on, Heath?”
I shake my head and look at the floor. I can’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry for what? For kissing me? For stopping?”
“For—” I shove my hand into my hair. “For all of it?”
“Look, I know something’s wrong. I just thought I could help you forget for a little bit.”
I thought so too, but it seems Walker plans to haunt me everywhere I go. “And I appreciate it. But I can’t. I’m sorry.” I exhale loudly. “It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Fair to me?”
“Yes.” And her.
“I’m not looking for anything serious. I thought that’s what we both wanted—a casual fling that we can pick up and lay down whenever we want.”
I nod, eyes still on the floor. “Yeah, I thought so too.”
“Then you don’t need to worry about hurting me. I’m pretty indestructible.”
Hundreds of images flash through my mind: girls leaving my hotel room in tears, angry text messages when I didn’t call after three days, even the handful of slaps I’ve sustained and deserved.
“I think it’s better if we stay platonic friends.” I venture a look at Seeley’s face. It’s blank, without a hint of disappointment.
“If that’s what you want.” She retreats behind the counter. Several seconds later, she thumps a bottle of tequila onto the wooden surface. “As a platonic friend, maybe you wanna talk about it?”
She pours us each a shot, and we throw them back in sync. When she holds the bottle up in question, I nod. I can do one more .
“So, who is she?” she says.
I halt with the glass halfway to my mouth. My eyes catch on Seeley’s for two seconds, then I throw back the shot. I slam down the glass and wince.
She ducks under the counter again, and I really hope she’s not going to produce a different alcohol. I need to be able to drive home. She slaps my keys down, and the sound jolts me.
“It’s her, isn’t it?”
Fuck. I’m going to need an Uber after all.
“I’d like another please.” I scoot my glass across the counter.
“I knew it!” She says it like she’s just beaten the Cortana level in Halo 3 . “She’s the one on your keychain.”
I wiggle my empty shot glass in front of her, and she dutifully refills it.
“You are not driving home,” she says.
“No shit.” The tequila burns down my throat.
“I saw the way you looked at her that day, like a kid catching his first wave.” She points the mouth of the bottle toward my chest. “You can’t fake that kind of look.”
“You’d be surprised.”
She shakes her head, sending her ponytail whipping around her shoulders. “You can’t fool me, Heath. There’s a reason you carry her picture around with you. And there’s a reason you’re drinking all of my tequila.” She frowns at the nearly empty bottle.
“Save me the speech, Seeley.”
Her shoulders lift like she couldn’t care less about what I want. “She’s a lucky girl.”
“She doesn’t think so.”
Seeley scratches at a mark on the counter with her blunt thumbnail. “You sure about that?”
Considering Walker threw me out of her house and is probably on her way back to England, yeah, I’m pretty sure. “She made her feelings clear.”
“Do you believe everything people tell you?”
“Do you always ask this many questions?” I swipe the bottle from her hand and tilt it toward my lips.
“As my platonic friend and employee, I care about you.” She grabs the tequila while I’m midgurgle. “And that’s why I’m cutting you off.” She caps it and sticks it back under the counter.
A dull haze is starting to creep over my senses. I need to stop using alcohol to numb the pain. It only makes me feel stupid. “Just leave it alone, See. She said she doesn’t want anything more to do with me. Seems pretty final to me.”
“Did you tell her how you feel?”
An abrupt laugh tears out of my chest. “You mean that I love her and that I’m a fucking mess when she’s not around? Yeah, sure did.”
I hate the look of pity that comes into her eyes.
“I always knew this would happen, okay?” I say. “I’m a huge fuckup, and I knew someday I’d disappoint her so much that she’d be done, once and for all. It was nice while it lasted, but now it’s over.”
“You can’t seriously believe that.”
I spread my arms wide. “I have no reason to believe anything else.”
“You are not a fuckup.” She comes around the counter toward me, and I put a hand out to steady myself. Her fingers curl around my cheeks. “You are good and funny and loyal.”
I drop her gaze. Something pinches in my chest. “Too bad she doesn’t agree.”
“A person’s depth is harder to hide than you think, Heath.”