Chapter 8
eight
PARKER
I woke with my head a mess, looking at a ceiling. The peeling, yellowed paint indicated I wasn’t in my bedroom. I sat up and stared at an unmade bed with bright Barbie pink sheets. I was fully dressed.
What the fuck happened?
Paige must have heard my stirring and entered.
“You fell asleep on the couch. You got drunk. And then were sick in Bianca’s shoes. We put you on the bed here, but you wound up on the floor. She slept in my room.”
She sensed my panic.
“You need to get it together, Westfall,” Paige sighed.
How ironic! A girl who could barely use a washing machine lectured me on getting it together . I picked myself up, thanked her for the hospitality, kissed any hope of ever sleeping with Bianca goodbye, and walked home. I began piecing the night together. It all started after the Latte Girl Incident Part Two. I drank to keep up with Bianca, who was impossible to beat. I could not hold my liquor that well and didn’t drink often because of how it made me feel.
“The prodigal son returns!” Niall declared as I arrived home .
“Yeah. And he needs to get his shit together,” I grumbled. “I have to go to a meeting in London later.”
“What for?”
“Gotta see our solicitor. Fucking nonsense. Who schedules a meeting for 3 PM like this?”
“Your solicitor,” Niall answered. “Makes me so glad not to be the eldest child.”
“Well, bully for fucking you.” I groaned, massaging my temples.
“You really cannot—and should not—get so pissed again.”
“Fully aware. Dreadfully embarrassed, mate.”
“C’mon. I’ll make you a tea,” Niall said.
I sat at the kitchen table while my friend took pity on me.
“What set you off?”
“Some bird,” I answered. “Some girl I ran into in the village. Entitled pain in the ass. I wanted to get a chance with Bianca, but she held me up. By the time I doubled back, that prat moved in, and I was a goner. So, I decided to drown my sorrows since I’d lost the battle anyway.”
Niall snickered and set my tea down to steep.
“Thanks, mate.”
“She’s not worth it,” Niall said. “Really. She’s not even that fit.”
He was lying. She was that fit.
“I find her clever. I appreciate clever.”
“She’s not even that clever, Parker. No more or less clever than half the girls you ignore. You want her because she always leaves you hanging. She’s not interested and never will be, but that’s not a knock on you, mate. That’s just how the chips fall.”
My buddy was right, but it was hard to swallow that pill. I wanted her to want me. I’d pined over her for more than a year. Nothing! She ignored me. I had to listen to reason. Anything else was insanity.
“I’m too old for this shit,” I grumbled.
“You are. You’re a man with a solicitor. What man with a solicitor has time for this ridiculousness?”
I snickered. “Thanks, mate.”
I drank my tea and set forth to be better. I took a short, annoying train ride to London. In transit, I prepared for a seminar I’d lead on a sheet of scrap paper. I should have brought my laptop with me. Instead, I stared out the window, kicking myself for what an asshole I looked like. I knew better in university. Now, I was a man who almost had a credential and was pining over some girl who used his affections as a chip to play to get the man she wanted. I needed a better perspective. I needed to stop thinking I could date.