39. June
CHAPTER 39
JUNE
H oly fuck. Did that really happen? Did I actually have a foursome on Wendy’s pristine leather couch? Well, technically, Malcolm’s couch, but it’s more amusing to think I defiled her furniture.
I get up on unsteady legs, and immediately, the end result of our private party trickles down my legs. That’s the downside of not wearing condoms—the mess.
“Is there a bathroom here?” I ask.
“Yes, that door next to the bookshelf.” Ryan points in the right direction.
“Perfect.” I grab my basket-shaped purse from the floor where I dropped it and make a beeline for the bathroom.
I never took off my dress, and it’s now more wrinkled than a Shar Pei dog. It pairs nicely with my red face. My lipstick is gone, even the smear, but I still look like a clown. Thank God I packed a small makeup bag in my purse. But first, I need to clean myself down south. I never knew how messy sex could be until I started having good sex. It’s why I also carry wet wipes.
I mourn the loss of my brand-new panties. They weren’t cheap, and I loved them. Now I have to return to the party sans underwear. I don’t know why I bother to fix my face. I’ll be blushing the entire time.
About halfway through redoing my makeup, I hear voices that don’t belong to my boys. Shit. We have company. I hope Jake, Lachy, and especially fully naked Ryan had time to get dressed.
I stop what I’m doing and text Jake. I don’t want to risk sending a text to the group and having all of them check their phones at the same time.
He doesn’t text me back. Crap on toast. I focus on my current task, keenly aware that I need to do a good job now. I don’t want anyone suspecting what I was doing with the boys in Malcolm’s office.
Satisfied with my job, I walk out of the bathroom and stop in my tracks. Apparently, the party moved here, or a portion of the party at least—the one comprised of hockey players.
Some guys are sitting on the couch, smoking cigars, and others are playing pool. I hover by the bathroom door, panicking when I don’t immediately see Jake, Ryan, or Lachy. What the hell! This room is not that large. Did they leave?
The other players haven’t noticed me yet. No one bothered to turn on the main lights, and the room is still dimly illuminated. Maybe that’s why the boys left. Alone, I can lie and say I got lost. But why didn’t they warn me?
Finally, Banksy sees me lurking in the shadows. “Yo, June! Come over here!”
Shit. Here goes nothing. I put on a fake smile and approach him. He’s busy chalking a cue tip. “I got lost,” I blurt out.
He laughs, showing his dimples. “Okay? Do you want to play?”
Not if my life depended on it. Obviously, I don’t say that out loud.
I shake my head. “Not right now. Have you seen Jake?”
“Yeah, he went with Lachy and Ryan to the basement to get more booze.”
On cue, Jake comes up the stairs that I didn’t notice before, carrying a few bottles in his hands. Lachy and Ryan follow him, their costumes back on as if they never took them off.
Jake sets his load on the bar counter and walks over. “Hey, babe. What are you doing here?”
Okay, so we’re pretending we didn’t come into the room together.
“I got lost.”
He pulls me into a hug and kisses my neck, sending shivers down my body. “I’m sorry. There was no time to warn you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Hey, T-man, if the girls find out June was in here, they’ll be pissed,” one of the guys says, but I can’t see who from my position.
“Especially Wendy,” Malcolm mutters.
“Dude, that was rude,” Banksy retorts.
“Sorry. I just don’t want my balls busted, that’s all,” the first guy replies.
“It’s okay. I’ll go.” I step away from Jake.
“I’ll join you in a bit.” He cups my cheek, then kisses me.
“It’s fine. Truly.”
Before I go, I make eye contact with Ryan and Lachy. Both stare back at me with a tinge of remorse. I’m certain they would rather follow me, but that wouldn’t be suspicious at all.
When I leave Malcolm’s office, my phone pings with a text message. It’s from Jake.
JAKE: I had to tell the guys we wanted a break from the party. That’s why we were in here.
LACHY: Then they all declared it was the best idea of the evening.
RYAN: It turned into a thing.
JAKE: I tried texting you from the basement, but there was no reception.
I keep walking as I text.
ME: Don’t worry about me. I can survive the party on my own.
“June, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I freeze on the spot and face Wendy, who’s flanked by Fiona and Maya. “You were?”
“What happened to you?” Fiona looks me up and down.
“What do you mean?” I look at my dress and realize I skipped a button, and the front is crooked.
“You look like you were having a little too much fun.” Wendy arches a brow.
My face starts to burn. Shit. And here I thought I could simply return to the party and no one would notice a thing. Worst of all, all the guys saw me like this. Let’s hope they were too drunk to notice my wardrobe malfunction.
“Uh…”
Maya smiles tightly. “It’s a party, Wendy. Aren’t we supposed to have fun?”
“I suppose.” Wendy gives me another scathing glance, then walks away with Fiona.
I smile at Maya. “Thanks for that.”
Maya moves closer, and all the friendliness is gone from her expression. “Don’t thank me. I saw you disappear with Lachy. It makes perfect sense why you lied and said he was seeing someone.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. She’s figured me out.
“Maya, I?—”
“If you want to screw Jake’s best friend behind his back, that’s your problem. I’m not going to say anything. But stay the hell away from my husband.”
My jaw drops, and words fail me. Not that I think anything I could tell Maya now would matter. She believes I’m someone who would not only cheat but would also go after other people’s husbands. I doubt that if I told her the truth, it would change her image of me. It’d probably just make it worse.
Suddenly, I feel like the walls are closing in. I can’t stay at this party for another second. I veer for the front door, and before I walk out of the house, I feel tears rolling down my cheeks. I don’t stop walking until I’m in the car.
Only then do I look at my phone, not knowing what to tell the boys. To say Maya thinks I’m a whore who will come after her husband sounds dramatic. And that would probably cause friction between them and Banksy.
ME: I’m not feeling well. Can we go home?
LACHY: What’s wrong?
ME: Just a headache.
I hate lying, but I don’t want to tell them what happened over text.
JAKE: We’re coming for you.
ME: I’m in the car already.
RYAN: You’re worrying us, Peaches.
I bite my lower lip. Hell, that’s not what I intended. My guilt doubles. If we weren’t hiding our relationship, the whole convo with Maya wouldn’t have happened. She probably would still tell me to stay away from her husband, but at least she wouldn’t be thinking Lachy is a backstabbing asshole. The idea that anyone would think Lachy or Ryan would betray Jake like that is a million times worse than people judging my choices. I love them too much to allow that to happen.
I can’t avoid the inevitable any longer. I’ve reached the end of the line.