Fourteen
Teagan
Class is finally over, and after getting through twelve hours of court, relief barely begins to describe it.
As we walk to our favorite sushi restaurant, Ryan snakes his arm around my waist. “We fucking rocked it,” he growls the reminder into my ear. He’s right, we did. And he hasn’t stopped celebrating since.
“Yep. Now, let’s get drunk.”
Ryan made this reservation the second we found out when our trial would be. This place has a two-year waiting list—if your dad isn’t on retainer with the owner. Just like mine, Ryan’s parents always know somebody who knows somebody, and it comes with major perks.
Inside, the black walls and floors of the lobby swallow the mood lighting from the geometric bamboo chandelier hanging overhead. In front of us, slender pendants hang like raindrops over the rest of the restaurant, every table and booth full of young, sexy people. The place has a type. Dressed in all white, losing my suit jacket, keeping the body-flattering dress beneath it, I know I fit the vibe, but after yesterday’s run-in with the security guard, I’m feeling the spotlight again—the one that follows you everywhere, making you hyperaware of how different you are from everyone else in the room. In the back of my mind I worry other people will notice it too. That is typical for me, especially with my family, and especially during summer when I’m surrounded by the guys, but it’s hitting a little harder right now.
We stalk up to the hostess. I look around for Jeremy, but when I see Ritchie instead, I get confused.
“Hey, Rich. What are you doing here?” I slip from Ryan’s arm to move into Ritchie’s instead. I hug him back, the added height from my heels making his head fall right beneath my chin.
“What do you mean?” He laughs with that goofy smile. “We’re here to celebrate our boy!”
Our boy? When did this become a celebration for only Ryan? “What?”
Jeremy finally makes his appearance. I try to give him a what the hell face but he won’t look at me. Beside him is Brett—the only other person invited—and behind him, Heath. My eyes widen.
He stops walking when he sees me. The same look of surprise graces his face. Why is he here?
“Hey, guys,” I greet them as a group. “Nice of you to join us.” I give Brett and Jeremy a quick side-hugs, but when it’s Heath’s turn, I don’t know what to do. We didn’t plan for this.
Awkwardly, we turn and wait for the hostess to gather our menus.
“This was the thing you had?” Heath whispers without looking at me.
I cross my arms. “Yeah, apparently you had a thing too.”
“Brett invited me yesterday. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Yeah, well, fucking surprise, I guess.”
Ryan turns around and frowns at us. “Can you two get along for one dinner, please? For me?”
~
Sandwiched between them, Ryan laughs it up with the guys to my right while Jeremy makes disparaging comments under his breath to my left. “Wasn’t this supposed to be your celebration? Like, for your class, not wedding shit again?”
“Yep.”
He takes an untouched piece of sashimi from my plate, and I don’t stop him. “Love that for you.”
Even though he’s pissy about everything I do for the wedding, too, I love it when he shit talks the rest of the group with me. When Chet isn’t there to balance the oppressive het-male vibes of our group, it’s borderline intolerable for both of us. All I wanted tonight was some sushi and sake, not more bros bro-ing while I’m trying to drink my day away.
“Tell us what we’re doing for the bachelor party, Best Ma’am,” Brett prods.
I’m not amused. The guys are three drinks deep at least, and Brett is always two drinks away from pissing me off. This will be fun. “Considering I thought this dinner was about something else, I didn’t bring the itinerary, but—”
“Are we going to that club?” Ritchie butts in.
That club is one of the most famous strip clubs in Vegas. Asking me if I want to see naked women dance for me is like asking if a golden retriever wants to play fetch. I snake my arm around Ryan’s shoulders to spare his feelings and keep him inculpable. “We’re going to have fun. It will be very classy ,” I say, then mouth Filthy where Ryan can’t see.
Ritchie pumps his fist like the baby-eating-sand meme. It will be fun until Ritchie fucks it up, which he will. After his shenanigans with Brett last summer, I question whether I should go to Martha’s Vineyard with Mary and the bridesmaids and send the guys off to Vegas without me. Dealing with a wine migraine is more comfortable than dealing with Ritchie. We’re basically family, but I would still enjoy watching him choke.
“You guys have to say congratulations to Teags too,” Ryan says. “We rocked our class final today.”
The others lift their glasses and murmur some sort of congratulations. “Oh, wow, the enthusiasm. Thanks, guys,” I coo. Where is my sake?
“You wouldn’t believe what happened, though,” Ryan continues. “When we were waiting to go in yesterday, a rent-a-cop started giving her shit in front of our other classmates. The guy tried to tell her she was in the wrong place, like she was a litigant rather than a lawyer. Teagan .”
He means it as a compliment, but it’s one I don’t want. The server arrives with the next round and I have to fight myself not to snatch it. I give Ryan a look that says Drop It , but he’s either not getting it or he’s not paying attention. He continues, “Dude was a racist prick. It’s crazy that shit is still happening.”
“When did it look like it stopped?” Heath laughs.
I give him a sideways glance. Being the mama’s boy he is, it doesn’t take much for Heath to pop off about racial inequalities. It’s one of his very, very few redeeming qualities.
“Well, I mean . . . you know what I’m saying.”
“I don’t,” I say. Ryan looks at me with a frown. “Do you think it’s rare for that to happen to me?”
“Is it not?”
I let out an exasperated breath. “It happened two weeks ago when I was going home. The woman in front of me closed the door in my face because she thought I was trying to sneak into my building. The one I’ve lived in for five years,” I say. “Before that, when I was helping Mary with your registry, the Bloomingdale’s associates reminded me where I was three times, and followed me around until Mary got there.”
Ryan looks like he wants to cry. “Are you serious?”
“Oh stop. We’ve all had times when people think we’re someone else,” Brett pipes up for no reason other than to tempt me. “Not everything is about race.”
“Oh, definitely not, babes,” I say with a sea of sarcasm. Trying to explain my life experience to an apathetic cis-het white man in the 0.1 percent simply isn’t worth my breath.
Heath turns to Brett. “Teagan is just as wealthy as we are, has gone to the same places we have, yet she is always the one who has her status and presence questioned. Why do you think that is?”
Brett rolls his eyes. “It could be for a million other reasons. The vast majority of people aren’t racist, it’s just a convenient card to play.”
I snort.
“Getting harassed is convenient for her?” Heath asks.
“Bro, no. Teagan is like a sister to me, and I’m sure it’s awful for that to happen, but I seriously doubt it was because of her skin color or sex. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You tokenize her all the time to explain away your ignorance, then you want to turn around and say none of it matters? The math ain’t mathing, friend.”
“I don’t tokenize her.”
“Oh yeah? Then tell me how you’re not racist without mentioning her.”
The guys awkwardly turn their attention, trying to carry on a different conversation while the bromance of the century has a lovers’ quarrel. I’m oddly transfixed.
“Bro, I’m not racist at all. Tea—well, it wouldn’t matter who it was. You know I don’t see color.”
“Wrong.”
“I don’t! Black, white, green, purple, there’s no difference. We all—”
“Wrong again.”
“Oh my god, dude,” Brett groans. “What makes you not racist, then? You can’t be racist when your mom is Polynesian or whatever?”
Or whatever is wild.
“I have my biases like everyone else, but I don’t need to know someone to believe they deserve the same basic level of human rights as I do. When you use her as an excuse, you’re showing you do.”
Brett searches for a rebuttal but doesn’t find one in time.
“Give it up, bro. You’re wrong,” Heath says. “Check yourself before you say dumb shit like that again.”
Brett’s brow wrinkles with anger. “Dude, shut the fuck up.”
“I’m not the one talking out of my ass! Why don’t you shut the fuck up?”
Brett shoves Heath with both hands. Heath falls back against Ritchie’s shoulder, causing him to fling his drink onto the table, Jeremy’s phone, and the front of my dress. I can’t cuss them out before Heath stands up and shoves Brett back, toppling him onto the table, a plate falling to the floor with a loud crash.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Ryan gets up and stands between them, parrying Brett’s next attack. They have most of the dining room’s attention already.
Jeremy sighs beside me. “This is some hetero shit. I’m out.”
“Please don’t”—he’s out of his chair before I finish—“leave me here . . .”
“Calm. Down,” Ryan says quietly but insistently. The guys are still staring each other down, Ritchie pulling Brett away while Ryan massages Heath’s arms to cool him off.
Some of the restaurant staff approach our booth. Ugh . “You all are so fucking embarrassing,” I seethe, dabbing the worthless cloth napkin against the stain on my dress. “Tuck your dicks away and leave!”
Ritchie drags Brett by the arm, Ryan holds Heath until they’ve gained enough distance. “I’ll stay,” Ryan says to me.
There is shattered ceramic and food on the floor, liquor dripping from the tabletop because he decided to invite the whole chaotic crew without telling me. His “help” is the last thing I need right now.
“This was supposed to be a dinner to celebrate, Ry. Go. I’ll pay and get this mess cleaned up.” I kiss his cheek to send him on his way. His mouth twists but he follows my direction, as he always does.
The restaurant manager looks at me with a cocked eyebrow. “I’ll take the check with hefty gratuity and whatever this mess will cost,” I tell him.
~
With everything taken care of, I can finally leave. Jeremy is long gone, and with him, my ride home. Outside, it’s dark, but the air is still hot. Only the occasional breeze wafting through the buildings provides any relief. It’s not quite enough to cool me off when I see who’s left.
Heath stands alone on the curb, casually looking at his phone as if nothing happened inside. There’s no way he is waiting for me. Someone else has to be here. I walk over and stand a distance from him. While I dig in my purse for my phone, he looks at me.
“Are you the last one here?” I ask.
“Yeah. Mary just picked Ryan up.”
“Awesome.” It’s not awesome. It’s more or less the opposite of awesome.
“You need a lift?”
“No. I’m calling an Uber.”
He chuckles. “You’re that mad at me? We do live close to each other, you know.”
I breathe in, trying to bide time while I think up an excuse. “I’ve had enough bullshit for one day. I’d really rather not.”
The silence that extends makes it seem like he accepts my answer. But then, “I’m sorry for what happened in there.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because I made a mess. Again.”
Returning my gaze to my phone, I brush it off. “You guys always fight when you drink too much. I’m sure you two will be back to being besties in the morning.”
“I wasn’t drinking.”
What? “Since when?”
“It’s summer. Gotta be swimsuit ready, and alcohol has a lot of sugar. That was soda water with lime.”
“You were sober?”
“Yeah.”
I shake my head with confusion. Defending me? For what? It won’t make me hate him any less. “I don’t know whether to thank you or smack you.”
He smirks and takes a step closer. “Why not both?”
I stop him with a hand against his chest. “Don’t pretend you’re kinky.”
“And don’t pretend you’re not.”
Why is there no winning with him tonight? Dude must want it bad if he’s willing to pull some shit against his homeboy and try to flirt with me. “What was this really about, Heath?”
“Huh?”
“All this. Tonight.” I gesture at the restaurant with a flourish of my hand. “You know you get laid regardless of what happens. What do you get out of pretending to give a shit?”
“I do give a shit, Teags. You know that.”
I watch his expression grow morose. If not for me, he would do it for his mom. He wouldn’t let anyone say anything about her. Ever. As he should.
“How is your mom?” I soften. “I miss her.”
His eyes snap to mine. He stares for a second before some levity returns to his face. “She’s . . . good. She misses you too.” It’s a nice lie, and one I’m happy to believe. “And I’m still sorry about tonight.”
“Well, I appreciate you standing up for me, but stop it. I’m a big girl. I can fight off preppy rich boys all by myself.”
“I know you can. Maybe I wanted to get a hit in on Brett for once.”
The way he stands with his hands in his pockets, the muscles in his chest and arms popping beneath his shirt, that little smirk painted on his face . . . he’s annoying, but it’s hard to remember when he looks like that.
“Take me home,” I say.
His smirk widens to a smile. “Okay.”
~
Heath snags a parking spot on the street behind my building. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been able to park on my block without fighting someone for the space, but everyone but me seems to get a win tonight.
“Thanks for the ride.” I try to sound less annoyed than I am.
“I’m walking you in.”
“The fuck you are.”
“It’s eleven thirty and you look rich as hell, Teags. I’m not going to ruin your night and let you get mugged.” He gets out of the car before I can protest. I yank the handle to keep him from opening the door for me.
He follows me around the corner and up to the entrance. I unlock the door, but even inside the safety of my foyer, he follows.
“Bye,” I say, but he catches my hand. I know what he’s going to say before I turn around. “Yes?”
He takes me by the waist and steps closer, his eyes heavy as he looks me up and down. “It’s still our day.”
“No. We canceled, and we didn’t give proper notice to reschedule. Clause 1b.”
“But I’m right here, and that dress . . .” His hands sink to my backside, pulling me against him and the growing erection he’s hiding. I press my hands against his chest to keep a bit of space between us. “We can’t break the rules one time?”
I look him in the eyes, scowling at his attempt. He’s an idiot, obviously, to believe anything will happen, but I’d be an idiot if I ignored how much my body wants him. His core is hard under the pressure of my palms, and he’s harder even lower. It’s dark outside, and today was full of every type of frustration I could imagine. The way he looks at me, his gray eyes dark and heavy as he wets his lips, makes me warm. It’s hard not to imagine him making the same face while he’s naked and between my legs.
I look at his hands when his fingers flex and grip me again, spreading me in a way that makes me ache for the image in my mind to become real, my body begging me to just give in and let him inside me. I hide a heavy breath.
“The ‘rules,’”—I slide his hands back up to my waist—“are a contract. We break it and the whole thing is over. Is that what you want?”
His smolder drops into a pout. “You know it’s not.”
“Then you’ll just have to wait.”
He hums a little groan of disapproval. The grip of his hands slides up to my ribs and back down to my waist, exciting my skin further. His penis throbs against my stomach. “What if I say please?”
I tilt my head with a sigh and run my hand over his cheek. If only you knew how badly I want to say yes , I think as I trace my thumb over his lips.
I lift my hand and lightly land it against his cheek again. “No.”
He grumbles when I pry myself from his grasp. “I hate you so much right now.”
“Good. Take it out on me tomorrow.”