Chapter 42
James
Drinking. Snorting coke. Fucking.
I’d checked all the boxes. There was just one left, the most complicated one.
From the outside looking in I looked like I led an aspirational, charmed life.
But the reality was awful. So predictable, almost clichéd.
To everyone else, I was a bad boy dedicated to indulging in drugs, alcohol, and sex.
My popularity was due to a specific list of things: money, girls, and the right dose of egotism justified by being so good looking that it made everyone obsessed with me.
Is that who I was? Was I convinced that that’s who I was?
Not even I knew. My head was ruled by chaos.
My emotions were confusing; I was unstable and I sought out attention continuously.
My body wasn’t used to reacting alone but receiving continuous hits to placate all the excessive stimuli going berserk in my brain.
Drugs were my salvation and my perdition.
Edward was never still. Edward talked too much. Edward moved around too much. Edward didn’t sleep much.
My true essence had been repressed for so long that even I didn’t know who I was anymore. But I was sure about one thing: I didn’t give a fuck about what anyone else said about me. My only strategy was the one that allowed me to survive.
Because I’d already died once.
I gritted my teeth at the thought. I needed to overdo it. And diversions. More diversions. Even more extreme distractions. I needed something else. Something more.
Taylor came to greet me wearing a red silk pajama set.
“Jamie, welcome back. Where were you?”
I recognized the smell of the reposado tequila on her breath. She loved to take shots of it with her friends. It stung my nostrils and made me nauseated. She gave me a crooked kiss, putting my chin into her mouth instead of my lips. She was trashed, maybe more wasted than I was.
“Enough.” I groaned reluctantly.
“You went out like that?” she asked, looking at my tracksuit pants.
“So? Where’s that asshole dad of yours?”
He was a warmongering hunting and gun nut, a colossal dickhead in every sense of the word.
“Do you think I’d invite you if he was home?
” Taylor mimicked my voice, as she fixed her long blond hair in the hallway mirror.
I stopped asking questions about her bizarre behavior.
First she screamed at me that she wanted nothing to do with me.
Then after a few days she invited me over.
Or maybe I knew exactly why, but I preferred to fool myself and pretend she cared about me and not about the hour of fun I managed to give her when I graced her with my presence.
I passed beside her, letting my fingers run slowly through her straight hair, caressing her without her noticing because she was too busy admiring herself.
I decided to ignore my reflection. Sometimes it gave me the chills; other times it disgusted me.
I made myself at home, walking through the hall to the living room where a fireplace created an intimate, cozy atmosphere. Sitting on a Persian rug, Tiffany was in her underwear, completely focused on rolling a joint. There it was, the something more.
When she noticed me, she magically lost interest in what she was doing.
“And you’re like that?” I asked dryly, leering at her bra, which pushed up her rounded breasts.
She smiled at me mischievously. “You know how it is, I was expecting you.”
“What’d you say?” Taylor came into in living room and intervened immediately.
“Nothing, I said you wrote me saying you wanted company, but you already have company. Tiffany’s here.” I pointed to the undressed girl.
Taylor didn’t seem to pay attention to what I was saying; as a matter of fact she pushed me on the couch. Tiffany came closer to her and whispered in her ear.
“Okay, let’s play a game.” Taylor giggled, but her expression changed when she heard the rest of the sentence. “No, Tiff. That isn’t a game, it’s just an excuse for you to make out with my boyfriend.” She bristled.
That piqued my curiosity. “What game is it?”
I saw a bolt of excitement in Tiffany’s eyes. “We take turns blindfolding each other, and we have to guess who’s kissing us.”
“I’m not opposed to it,” I announced, puffing my chest out as I stretched my arms out on the top of the couch.
“Tiff, cut it out. You’re too friendly when you drink too much.”
“What are you talking about? Jackson’s coming too.” Tiffany defended herself.
“Why are you still chasing after Jackson?” Taylor said irritatedly, scowling.
“I’m not. I invited him because I wanted to see him.” At that point she went to sit on the rug sulking, as Taylor jabbed at her tartly.
“Do you really believe Jackson will want to be with you eventually?”
“Why wouldn’t he be? Let’s hear it.” I came to her defense.
Tiffany listened and had great tits; I don’t understand what more Jackson could want.
“Nothing, it’s just that she doesn’t seem like his type.”
So after talking about kissing me, how did we end up talking about Jackson?
“I’ll get the nail polish.”
I remained on the couch enjoying Taylor kissing my neck, but I couldn’t stop teasing Tiffany as she left the living room.
“Don’t forget the blindfold.”
“I won’t.” She winked with a mischievous grin.
We heard the bell ring, and a little while later, Jackson came in.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded with an eyebrow raised.
“Tay told me you were here, I wanted to see how you were.”
I moved over on the couch and made room next to me.
“Tell him you came for the manicure.” Taylor laughed, sitting on my legs.
Tiffany came back with a case of nail polish. She was still in her bra and underwear, but Jackson didn’t even look at her.
“Pick a color, Jax. You, James?”
“Does it take a long time to dry?” I asked, scanning the nail polish bottles.
“Around ten minutes.”
“I have no interest in waiting. And you don’t have a black one,” I grumbled, pulling out a vape pen.
Jackson picked a red one.
“Come on, James,” Taylor cooed.
Taylor put her blond head on my chest. I felt a jump. She’d never been this affectionate with me. She was just wasted. Maybe she’d forgot to hate me.
“My hands are full, remember?” I grumbled, then turned on the vape pen and showed it to her between my fingers.
She grabbed my left hand.
“Your hands are so beautiful. Right, Jax?”
Taylor stared at him as Tiffany painted his nails.
“They don’t look like they’re painted right.” Jackson downplayed the compliment.
“You have to put the blindfold on for the game, Jamie.” Taylor’s usually biting and hostile voice was now as sweet as honey.
She went from treating me like shit to worrying about me like she really cared. But did anything she did surprise me? Everyone around me wanted something from me. Always.
“Don’t give me a hard time. Are we done talking about fucking hands?”
“What kind of game is it?” Jackson asked with his usual skepticism. The girls giggled.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll blindfold you now. All you have to do is guess.”
Tiffany finished painting Jackson’s nails then pulled out the sleep masks Taylor used. They were pink and had the word Princess on them.
Jackson stayed still as Tiffany blindfolded him. Then she waved her index finger in front of him to make sure he couldn’t see anything.
I put the vape between his lips and pushed a lock of soft hair back.
“Don’t touch my hair, Tiff,” Jackson spat, shaking his head in frustration. The girls giggled as I looked from the mask to my friend’s mouth, stopping to gaze at his lip piercing.
“Let’s start with Jackson,” cawed Taylor excitingly, motioning for her friend to kiss him first.
Tiffany put the nail polish on the table and approached the couch. Boring.
I stopped her with my arm before she could get next to Jackson’s face, and whispered in Taylor’s ear, “You kiss him.”
Her eyes went wide and her lips curled into a disappointed grimace.
It was good to remind Taylor every once in a while that even though she thought she was my girlfriend, we weren’t together. And I certainly wouldn’t feel even the least amount of jealousy watching her kiss my best friend. It was almost more titillating than me kissing her myself.
She was still perched on my knee when she flung herself toward Jackson and pecked him on the lips.
“Who was it?” she asked after.
“Uh, Tiff?” he guessed unwillingly.
“Wrong. It was Taylor. You can’t take off the blindfold until you guess right,” explained Tiffany solemnly.
I saw Jackson puff up his chest then exhale. It was Tiffany’s turn, but to my surprise she didn’t move. She turned around to stare at me. For a moment her eyes lit up, and she exchanged an electrified look with Taylor.
It took a second for me to understand.
Me? I mouthed, and they nodded in unison.
Let’s do it, whatever.
I approached Jackson expecting Tiffany to make a move.
But when it came time to kiss him, I vacillated.
My arm was folded on the backrest, and with my other hand, I brushed against his outstretched arm wrapped in his letterman’s jacket.
I hesitated for a few seconds as I noticed that his shirt smelled pleasantly like fresh laundry while his face smelled like something fresh and manly that mingled with the vape smoke and beer on his breath.
I wet my lips involuntarily then ran my thumb on his lower lip.
Jackson breathed in deeply and parted his lips, when finally I decided to kiss him.
I held back a hiccup because the tip of his tongue grazed my lower lip while his cold lip ring tickled me, sending a chill down my spine.
I was about to pull away, but when his tongue approached my mouth, I softened my lips and let him in.
His breath became labored as our tongues caressed each other.
He suctioned in the air, which caused me to stop kissing my best friend.
What the fuck?
I pulled my head back and wiped my lip with my hand. How could he not realize it was me? What was supposed to be a simple peck had turned out to be much more, even though it didn’t upset me.