1. A new year begins #2
“You’re wondering why didn’t I accept his drink?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, let’s just say I have no desire to take that tour again. ”
Evan tilted his head. It was obvious he wanted to ask for the particulars, but was holding back, so she decided to give him a watered-down explanation. However, before she could, the drummer was taking a seat next to her at the bar.
“Hi, Jules,” he greeted her.
“Eric,” she greeted him back, hoping that really was his name.
“It’s good to see you, again. You look great,” he said, his eyes roaming over her for a moment. “You know, I would’ve said ‘Hello’ the last time I saw you here, but you were with someone.”
Eric apparently was his name. She gave him a polite smile, then said, “You look great, too,” because he did, but deliberately left off any mention of it being good to see him again.
She prided herself on being as honest as possible, lying only when it was absolutely necessary—and this wasn’t one of those times.
“Why did you send my drink back?” he wanted to know.
Jules refrained from rolling her eyes, even though his question made her want to. He was acting like she’d sent back the Hope diamond, for Christ’s sake, and not a five dollar gin and tonic. “I couldn’t accept it, knowing it would probably give you the wrong impression.”
“The wrong impression?”
“That I might sleep with you again. Because that isn’t going to happen.”
Eric blinked at her, presumably trying to process her blunt words, and at the same time trying to understand why she was saying them. “Why not? I thought we had a good time.”
She inwardly sighed, because this was where things would get uncomfortable—for him, anyway. “ We didn’t have a good time,” she corrected him, looking directly in his eyes. “ You had a good time.”
His brows drew together in a frown. “What are you saying? That you didn’t have a good time?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
After a heavy pause, he said rudely, “You did a hell of a good job faking it, then.”
She leaned forward, keeping her expression neutral, as if he hadn’t just overplayed his hand with the ‘asshole’ card.
“I never fake anything, Eric, and that especially applies to sex. If you thought I enjoyed it, that’s because you weren’t paying attention—and when I say you weren’t paying attention, I mean you weren’t paying attention to anything other than getting yourself off. ”
“That’s bullshit. ”
“It’s not bullshit. I can’t speak for all women, but when I have sex with a man, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for equal oral reciprocation.”
His expression turned to one of mild indignation. “You’re upset because I didn’t go down on you?”
“More like … disappointed.”
“But I’d just met you.”
Jules gave him a look that said he needed to acquaint himself with the concept of irony. “And I’d just met you .”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
Jules could see him struggle to provide a reasonable answer when he obviously didn’t have one. “It isn’t different,” she pressed. “It’s just something that didn’t matter to you once you got yours.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s not?”
“No. Jesus, you’re making me sound like I’m a selfish asshole in bed, or something, and I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, then I guess that means you’re an unimaginative asshole in bed.”
“For Christ’s sake, I’m not an unimaginative asshole in bed, either.”
“Well, those are really your only two options, so …”
Eric’s face was a little flushed now, and she let him stew for a moment before continuing.
“I’m not a vessel to be used for someone else’s pleasure, especially not someone who can’t even be bothered to make sure I have an orgasm, too.
Which is actually pretty easy to do, by the way,” she added, seeing Evan move closer to her and Eric, as if trying to make sure to hear every word she was saying.
“I don’t give any man the honor of fucking me just so he can get off—I’m not that big of a philanthropist. I expect fucking to be mutually pleasurable, because otherwise, why do it?
I mean, would you give a woman full access to your body and be totally fine with her using it to have an orgasm, only to hop off when she was done, unconcerned that you didn’t have one? Of course not.”
Eric was now looking pissed, but she didn’t stop.
“Now, I can tell what I’ve said is not to your liking, and this is where you might be thinking I’m a bitch, or a rabid feminist who hates men, but I’m neither.
I simply don’t like to be dishonest, especially if it’s in the name of protecting a man’s ego, and especially in a sexual context.
So, if you think your prowess in bed is something to be proud of, as well as something I’m misconstruing, then by all means, defend it to me. Make me change my mind.”
“You could have said something at the time,” he bit out. “I would have …”
When he didn’t finish, she said, “You would have what? Gone down on me out of obligation at that point? Which would have been a few flicks of your tongue and probably not much else? No, thanks. That would’ve been worse than you not going down on me at all.
And I didn’t say anything because if you’re not interested in getting the most out of a sexual encounter with me, then I’m not going to try and convince you to do so.
I know my worth, and I’m pretty good at learning from my mistakes …
which means I know when to post an ‘L’ in the ‘Loss’ column and walk away. ”
Jules was in no way shocked when Eric said, “So do I,” before getting to his feet and heading back to his bandmates at the other end of the bar.
Now alone with Evan, Jules expected him to make a comment—or several—but instead, he got her a glass of water, then picked up a rag and started wiping things down behind the bar, while making his way over to where the band was. Amused and curious, she sipped her water and watched.
After only a few minutes, she saw Evan ditch the rag, go to the cash register, print up a bill and slap it down in front of the drummer, who looked first confused, then angry at whatever Evan was saying to him, while the other band members exchanged uncertain glances.
Whatever was happening between Evan and Eric seemed to escalate a little, their voices rising so she could hear them.
“You’re really going to do this?” Eric demanded. “Tonight?”
“Well, technically it’s now today , but yes, I really am,” Evan replied. “The others can stay, but you have to leave.”
“I’m the fucking drummer. Hard for them to finish the set without me.”
“That’s not my problem.”
Eric got to his feet, an aggressive expression on his face, and Jules watched as Evan calmly stood his ground. Eric said something she couldn’t hear, and then Evan responded with, “If you want to take this outside, we can.”
Jules’ eyes widened. Evan was possibly getting ready for a bar fight?
“You serious, man?” Eric asked. “I’d kick your ass.”
“Well, you could try. But you should know I’ve been in more than a few fights in my life, starting in high school, and I can hold my own.”
The two men held testosterone-fueled gazes for several seconds, until one of the band members said, “Fuck it, Eric. Let’s go.”
Evan backed away and went to the cash register to print up four more bills, then handed them out. They all tossed cash down, and when Eric did, he told Evan, “I want my fucking change back.”
After the band members were cashed out and Eric had gotten his change (which Jules could see was less than fifty cents), they went to the stage and began packing up their instruments and miscellaneous gear. They all seemed perturbed, but most of the ire appeared to be directed at the drummer.
As soon as Evan came back to Jules, she asked, “What was that all about?”
He shrugged. “The drummer was being a prick.”
“He was being a prick? That’s why you threw him out?”
“Yes. I don’t have to put up with pricks in my own bar, so … good riddance.”
“What was he being a prick about?”
Evan shrugged again, pretending to be busy cleaning the bar again.
“Hmm, well, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume it was about me?
Did he say something insulting?” When Evan didn’t reply, Jules said, “Like … I was a bitch and didn’t have that good of a pussy anyway, so it wasn’t a big loss that I turned him down, because he could hook up with someone hotter anytime he wanted? Something like that?”
Evan stopped and frowned at her. “Jesus, how much did you overhear?”
“Nothing.” She chuckled softly. “However, I did slap him down pretty hard, and I figured he would talk some shit about me to save face with his friends. Men aren’t overly complicated creatures.”
“That may be true, but we’re not all pricks.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Jules took a drink of water. “Anyway, I appreciate the gesture of defending my honor, but you really didn’t have to do that. I mean, there’s no way anyone in the band was going to believe what he said about my pussy, or that he’d find someone hotter than me.”
Evan side-stepped the joke. “I did have to do it, because no one talks about you like that in my bar.”
It was said with complete conviction, almost bordering on possessive fervor, and for a split second, she let herself appreciate it—and him.
His dark brown eyes that were too pretty for a man, his reddish-brown hair with its unruly waves which looked like it got styled with a towel, and his lean body in faded jeans and a Three Amigos T-shirt that fit him incredibly well, but which she knew he hated because of the caricature rendering of him, his brother, and sister on the front.
She saw the moment he thought about propositioning her.
Since the day they’d met on Paige’s birthday, almost twenty-one months ago, they’d been circling around the issue of their attraction to one another, with the sexual tension simmering like soup in a pot.
She’d known Evan was trouble that night and would have been all over him under different circumstances, but she’d refrained, and now, she needed to make sure he didn’t go there.
Was she attracted to him? Absolutely.
However, the time for them to have hooked up had passed, and since she and Evan were now in the circle of friendship with Paige and David, sleeping with Evan could cause a ripple effect, making things potentially awkward at future gatherings with the four of them when it didn’t last. Jules wasn’t willing to risk that, not even for what would probably be a memorable night of sweaty, needy, mind-blowing sex.
“Well, thank you,” she told him, before breaking their gaze and digging enough cash out of her wallet to pay her tab. After setting it on the bar, she got to her feet and gave him a warm, but polite smile, delivering the coup de grace before he could say anything.
“Good night, Evan.”