CHAPTER 6 #2
“I didn’t know it was him at first.” I go on to elaborate about how I figured it out, hyping up how I waited in the hallway to avoid him as though I intended not to engage him.
And then I explain the weirdness that came after when he saw me.
The way he looked stunned and then just up and left like some damaged, closed-off version of the guy I used to know.
“So, when I saw it was him just now, I was trying to be nice and said hello,” I explain, sneaking a glance at the bar.
The view I’m treated to this time is a full frontal of Chris’ beefy thighs, spread open with his feet resting on the rungs of his stool.
He’s turned all the way around, openly watching me now as though he’s trying to decipher something.
I can’t decide if I feel like the luckiest prey he’s ever laid eyes on or the target of a soon-to-be murder.
“Why do you keep looking over there?” Jamie scolds.
“I’m not!”
I am. I’m literally still looking right at him.
“You are too! You’re practically eye-fucking him.”
That has me sitting upright on my stool to face my accuser. “What? I am not. He just keeps looking over here. It’s…distracting.”
At that, Jamie cranes his head around and catches the view that’s making my stomach squirm. He groans dramatically, turning back around and rubbing his eyes.
“I’m in the middle of an eye-fuck sandwich. I feel so dirty. Gross.”
My heart skips a beat. Is he eye-fucking me?
“There’s no eye-fucking going on,” I retort like I have an alternate personality from the one inside my head. “You’re just…being you.”
“You mean, observant?” he deadpans, cocking an eyebrow.
I can’t fight the laugh at his confident resolve. So, I just shake my head and take a drink, making sure to direct my gaze to a safe area.
“You know what? Fuck it.” He throws his hands up. Leaning back on his stool, he folds his arms over his chest. “You’re finally single. I say go ahead.”
“Go ahead, what?”
I cringe when he waves a hand toward the bar. As if I haven’t drawn enough of Chris’ attention to myself already.
“Now’s your chance to fuck him out of your system after all these years. Maybe it’ll be cathartic.”
The way my body lights up at his suggestion has to show on my face when I peek at Chris yet again. I wish I could crawl under the table, but I settle for shielding my eyes again. “Oh, my God. I’m not going to fuck him. He barely said a word to me the other day, and not much more just now.”
It’s a ludicrous idea, even coming from Jamie. Me and Chris…fucking now.
My cock doesn’t seem to think it’s a bad idea, but what does my cock know?
The fizzle… I need to remember my quest for finding myself and the eternal fizzle, one that doesn’t evaporate after dating.
“Besides, I’ve been talking to Miles,” I throw out to change the subject and maybe even to distract myself.
“Who?”
“I told you about this last week. You know, Miles.”
“You mean fucknugget? No!” he wails, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Would you listen to yourself! He’s already got you talking like him. You know?”
This again? Jamie must be mistaking him for someone else.
“Whatever. Well, he’s coming into town next week, so…I don’t need complicated right now.”
“Are you dating him?”
“No, we’re just going to get dinner or something. The center is going to have a fundraiser appreciation dinner, and he said he’d be my plus one for it.”
“Then it’s not complicated.” He rolls his eyes and leans forward.
“Listen to the expert here. Casual sex is never complicated. Dating is. You are a free, healthy, youngish man with lots of options.” He gestures toward the bar, making me cringe.
“Exhibit A—screw your college demons away.” Moving his outstretched hand toward my phone, he adds, “Exhibit Fucknugget—get a free meal and some terrible conversation, followed by, perhaps, a night of very boring sex.”
He ignores the unimpressed look I cast at him, sitting back and picking up his drink again. “However, if I were you, I wouldn’t do them in that order. Always save the hot, anger-bang sex for last.”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep inhale. I’m not even going to argue why sleeping with Chris wouldn’t be an anger bang because I don’t feel any of the hostility that situation would require. How does my friend make a living giving advice like this?
“How many followers do you have again?” I ask dryly.
“Six hundred thousand.”
“Baffling. Besides, I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to hook up with him after all the shit you gave me when we were in college.”
“You were a shy little sex zombie then.”
“Wow. Thanks. And now?”
“Now, you’re a successful, confident homeowner who doesn’t have to settle for fucknuggets or jocks that crawl in through your bedroom window.”
I scoff to assert my annoyance, but I can feel my face heat. Of course, he had to remember that embarrassing detail.
“As those are my only two potential suitors at the moment, apparently I do.”
“You’re missing the most important element.
They both want you.” I make a disbelieving face, and he rolls his eyes.
“They do. You’re a catch, Remy. Just remember that you have the power to say no to commitment after dessert.
There is nothing wrong with getting a little D without all the baggage that comes with it. ”
Frowning, I absorb how that sounds a lot like having casual sex and no long-term plan. He must see the conflict on my face.
“Hey, all I’m saying is that it’s okay to get sucked by a few frogs without co-leasing before you find your prince.”
I must be immune to his analogies at this point.
Either that or I’m so used to them that they’re starting to make sense because my gaze drifts to Chris again.
Could I really sleep with him again and not be haunted by visions of him moving around my kitchen with me or curled up on my couch? Ugh. I’m hopeless.
“What if…I don’t know how?” I ask warily, swallowing against a lump in my throat.
“Fuck.” Jamie sighs, pulling my attention back to him. I flash him a pained, yet appreciative smile for understanding the mess that I am. “All right, let’s get out of here.”
I nod, knowing deep down it’s probably for the best. Jamie throws back the rest of his beer and rises. I hear him curse softly under his breath, and then a deep voice rumbles to my left.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
My eyes work their way up the snug black T-shirt that’s now right in front of me until I’m staring into the determined-looking face of my weakness. It feels like a moment as we look at each other. A very loaded moment. Something inside me celebrates. He came over.
“Hey! Chris!” Jamie cheers, jostling me from my haze when he throws an arm around me.
“Hey,” I add, breathlessly, suddenly conflicted by my friend’s cockblocking. “Um…I think we were just leaving.”
Chris’ nostrils flare. I swear his gaze moves to where Jamie’s hand is squeezing my shoulder before looking back at me like I’ve committed a crime. Is he…jealous?
“Long time no see,” Jamie adds with more feigned enthusiasm, and I can detect a hint of saltiness over being ignored. Typical Jamie.
Gaze shifting, there’s no less agitation in it as Chris looks at my friend. “Jamie,” he grunts.
My pulse is on double-time, which I absently realize is silly for a thirty-seven-year-old man, but I can’t help it. Especially as Chris’ gaze crosses mine for an instant before he turns and walks away. Was that a flash of hurt in his eyes? What just happened?
“Wow, yeah. We need to leave,” Jamie mutters. “Come on, Romeo.”
His slap on my back brings me back to the present.
I nod and take a gulp of my beer to wet my throat.
Standing up, I dig my keys out of my pocket.
When Jamie starts across the bar ahead of me, I take the opportunity to locate Chris again.
He’s not at the bar, though. The sensation of loss that ripples through me fills me with regret.
Is he always going to disappear from my life like a wispy cloud on a strong wind?
As we near the door, I see it swing shut, a wide frame ambling through it. I nearly run into Jamie’s back. I can tell he’s slowing down on purpose, but I fiddle with my keys to play ignorant and walk around him. Something urgent in my steps for one last sight of Chris.
Outside, I’m surprised to find he hasn’t made more ground, descending the last step from the bar entrance. He sways for a second before moving forward across the gravel lot.
“Is he driving?” I murmur to Jamie as I watch Chris tug a set of keys from his jeans pocket.
“Hopefully only a bumper car at a carnival.”
It’s not the answer I wanted to hear. As we stall at the doorway, a sense of protectiveness prickles my skin, watching Chris’ fame shift further to and fro.
“Shit,” I hiss, remembering that horrid image of his fancy car on the news. I move without further thought, ignoring Jamie’s groan behind me. “Chris? Can we give you a ride?”
His footsteps stop abruptly, and he swings around, looking suspicious. His gaze flicks to Jamie and then back to me, frowning.
“Why?”
“You just…look like you shouldn’t drive.”
“Or…” Jamie chimes in, coming up beside me and throwing his arm around my shoulders again, “We can call you a cab, and then Sugar Britches and I can get home and snuggle.”
I’ve never seen a look more full of disappointment. “You married Pajamies?” Chris says accusingly.
What? Is that what he thinks?
“No!” I insist, appalled at the very idea, at the same time Jamie declares, “Yup!”
I whip my head to Jamie and flash him an aggravated look. I know he’s trying to save me from my own stupidity, but this is about a man’s safety, and…well, I don’t want Chris to think I’m married. Because…lying is bad. Shuffling out of Jamie’s grasp, I take a step forward.
“No,” I clarify, shaking my head. “He’s just in town visiting from California.”
“Oh, my God. You threw away a perfectly good out,” Jamie grumbles and starts around me toward my car as though I’m a lost cause.